most part but by the Indian or trapper, and
considered a fit dwelling place only for the Hudson Bay officer kept
there by his loyalty to "the Company," or the half-breed runner to whom
it was native land, or the more adventurous land-hungry settler, or the
reckless gold-fevered miner. Only under some great passion did men
leave home and those dearer than life, and casting aside dreams of
social, commercial, or other greatness, devote themselves to life on
that rude frontier. But such a passion had seized upon Shock, and in it
his mother shared. Together these two simple souls, who were all in all
to each other, made their offering for the great cause, bringing each
their all without stint, without measure, without grudging, though not
without heart-break, and gaining that full exquisite joy, to so many
unknown, of love's complete sacrifice.

To none but themselves, however, was the greatness of the sacrifice
apparent. For when the carriage arrived with Mrs. Fairbanks and her
daughters there was no sign of tears or heart-break in the quiet faces
that welcomed them. And Mrs. Fairbanks, who had come prepared to offer
overflowing sympathy to the old lady "deserted" by her "fanatical" son,
was somewhat taken aback by the quiet dignity and perfect control that
distinguished the lady's voice and manner. After the first effusive
kiss, which Mrs. Fairbanks hurried to bestow and which Mrs. Macgregor
suffered with calm surprise, it became difficult to go on with the
programme of tearful consolation which had been prepared. There seemed
hardly a place for sympathy, much less for tearful consolation, in this
well-ordered home, and with these self-sufficient folk.

"We thought we would like to come over and--and--help, perhaps drive
you to the station to see your son off," said Mrs. Fairbanks, who was
readjusting her scenery and changing her role with all speed.

"That was kind, indeed," said Mrs. Macgregor, "but Hamish will be
walking, I doubt, and I will just be waiting at home."

She had the instinct of the wounded to hide in some sheltered and
familiar haunt.

"I shall be glad to remain with you, Mrs. Macgregor, if I can be of any
service," repeated Mrs. Fairbanks.

"It will not be necessary; everything is done, and there is nothing
needed."

The voice was more than quiet, as if it came from a heart whose passion
had been spent.

"It is very kind, indeed, and we are grateful," said Shock, feeling
that his mother's manne