spite of the bravest heart that ever loved and suffered. God
help her; God help us all!"

XX

THE GEOLOGIST

It was Miss Craigmiles herself who gave Ballard the exact date of
Professor Gardiner's coming; driving down to the construction camp alone
in the little motor-car for that avowed purpose.

A cloud-burst in the main range had made the stage road from Alta Vista
impassable for the moment, leaving the Arcadia Company's railroad--by
some unexplained miracle of good fortune--unharmed. Hence, unless the
expected guest could be brought over from Alta Vista on the material
train, he would be indefinitely detained on the other side of the
mountain. Miss Elsa came ostensibly to beg a favour.

"Of course, I'll send over for him," said Ballard, when the favour had
been named. "Didn't I tell you he is going to be _my_ guest?"

"But he isn't," she insisted, playfully. Bromley was out and at work,
Wingfield had entirely recovered from the effects of his electric shock,
and there had been no untoward happenings for three peaceful weeks.
Wherefore there was occasion for light-heartedness.

Ballard descended from the bungalow porch and arbitrarily stopped the
buzzing engines of the runabout by cutting out the batteries. "This is
the first time I've seen you for three weeks," he asserted--which was a
lover's exaggeration. "Please come up and sit on the porch. There is any
number of things I want to say."

"Where is Mr. Bromley?" she asked, making no move to leave the
driving-seat.

"He is out on the ditch survey--luckily for me. Won't you please 'light
and come in?--as we say back in the Blue-grass."

"You don't deserve it. You haven't been near us since Mr. Bromley went
back to work. Why?"

"I have been exceedingly busy; we are coming down the home-stretch on
our job here, as you know." The commonplace excuse was the only one
available. He could not tell her that it was impossible for him to
accept further hospitalities at Castle 'Cadia.

"Mr. Bromley hasn't been too busy," she suggested.

"Bromley owes all of you a very great debt of gratitude."

"And you do not, you would say. That is quite true. You owe us nothing
but uncompromising antagonism--hatred, if you choose to carry it to that
extreme."

"No," he returned gravely. "I can't think of you and of enmity at the
same moment."

"If you could only know," she said, half absently, and the trouble
shadow came quickly into the backgrounding depths of t