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CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE WHITE MAN OF THE WOODS.
"Like a rock that breasts the sea,
Firm he stood in front of foes;
To his friend a sheltering tree,
That in changeless beauty grows.
Firm alike to friend and foe,
Firm in gentleness and faith,
Firm in 'yes,' and firm in 'no,'
Firm through life, and firm in death."
Sir Henry Parkes.
"The flying rumours gathered as they roll'd.
Scarce any tale was sooner heard than told;
And all who told it added something new,
And all who told it made enlargements too;
In every ear it spread, on every tongue it grew."—Prior.
Beside the lonely beach the doctor sat, with elbows on knees, his eyes sweeping, for a thousandth time, the unbroken horizon, that never revealed speck or sail. As the soft breeze whispered amongst the palm-leaves, and the waters gently lapped the coral shore, the desolate man often dreamed that he heard his daughter's voice singing in the distant vale.
"If I might look upon her face, and know that she was happy!"
Starting to his feet he paced the gleaming sand, stretched forth trembling hands across the deep as though he would draw to him the loved forms he sometimes fancied he saw before him.
"Too hard, too hard to bear!" he groaned, pressing
