The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. "He will live," answered Ruth. " "The ways of Providence are inscrutable," observed Wood. Whenever McClintock had guests, he loafed with them on the west veranda in the morning. Just how particular are you? Will he have to bring recommendations?" "He will not. "Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her. "He must be somewhere hereabouts," cried one of the horsemen, dismounting. " "Ha!" ejaculated the other.
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