anadian half-breed guide, with the copperish red of aboriginal America
on his high cheek bones, and the warm glow of sunny France in his keen
black eyes. Guiding his horse with the left hand, his right led the
dappled mustang belonging to the third figure; a tall,
broad-shouldered man wearing an overcoat that reached to his knees, who
walked with his hand on the bridle bit of a white mule, whereon sat a
woman, wrapped in silver fox furs from throat to feet. A cap or hood of
the same soft, warm material was worn over her head, where a roll of
dark auburn hair coiled at the back; and around her white temples
clustered rings and tendrils of the glossy bronze locks that
contrasted so singularly with the black arch of the brows, and the
fringe that darkened the luminous gray eyes.

One month had elapsed since the Umilta Sisters of the "Anchorage",
following Sister Ruth, walked in the star-lit dawn of a November day,
to a neighboring church, and watched Doctor Grantlin lead down the
aisle, a pale, trembling woman whose hand he placed in that of the man,
waiting in front of the altar. The Sisterhood had listened to the
solemn words of the marriage service, the interchange of vows, and the
benediction, while priestly hands were laid tapon two bowed heads.

When the rising sun greeted the husband and wife, they were speeding
westward, on the first stage of their long journey.

To-day, the quest would end; and into Beryl's face had crept the
wistful yearning that was a reflection of that strange blending of
patience and longing, which made her so beautiful in her husband's
eyes; so strong in faith, so serene in waiting resignation. Suddenly
the monk drew rein, threw up his drooping head, and listened. Clear and
sweet as the silvery chime of bells ringing in happy dreams, floated
through the crystal air the sound of the Angelus; and fainter and
fainter fell the echoes, dying in immeasurable distance. Low bent the
shaven head, and through brown, fingers stole the consecrated beads,
while with closed eyes the prayers were uttered; and in the pause, the
guide made the sign of the cross, and Mr. Dunbar instinctively took off
his hat.

"Six hours' steady climbing is a severe tax. Are you very tired?" he
whispered, laying his arm around Beryl's waist, and lifting his
brilliant eyes eloquent with an infinite tenderness.

With one hand on his shoulder as he stood beside her, she leaned down
until her lips touched the black hair tos