CHAPTER XIII.

Two men were walking near a cottage in the winter sun-light of the early morning. There came to the door a young woman, who looked pale and tired. She carried a bowl of milk to a little calf, and on her way back to the cottage she paused, and shading her eyes, that were red with weeping, lingered awhile, looking far and near. Then, with a sigh, she returned indoors and worked restlessly at her household duties.

"It breaks my heart to see my wife do that," said the taller man, who carried a gun. "All day long she comes