would
flash at times with an emotion that contradicted her dejected
attitude. It was an emotion born of self-exaltation, for had she
not mothered a _man_?--albeit that manhood was revealing itself in
scorning the traditions and customs of her ancient race.

And young George was returning from his father's house to the
Mission with equally mixed emotions. He knew he had dealt an almost
unforgivable blow to those beloved parents whom he had honored and
obeyed from his babyhood. Once he almost turned back. Then a vision
arose of a fair young English girl whose unhappy childhood he had
learned of years ago, a sweet, homeless face of great beauty, lips
that were made for love they had never had, eyes that had already
known more of tears than they should have shed in a lifetime.
Suppose some other youth should win this girl away from him?
Already several of the young men from the town drove over more
frequently than they had cause to. Only the week before he had
found her seated at the little old melodeon playing and singing a
duet with one of these gallants. He locked his teeth together and
strode rapidly through the forest path, with the first full
realization that she was the only woman in all the world for him.

Some inevitable force seemed to be driving him
towards--circumstances seemed to pave the way to--their ultimate
union; even now chance placed her in the path, literally, for as he
threaded his way uphill, across the open, and on to the little log
bridge which crossed the ravine immediately behind the Mission, he
saw her standing at the further side, leaning upon the unpeeled
sapling which formed the bridge guard. She was looking into the
tiny stream beneath. He made no sound as he approached. Generations
of moccasin-shod ancestors had made his own movements swift and
silent. Notwithstanding this, she turned, and, with a bright
girlish smile, she said:

"I knew you were coming, Chief."

"Why? How?" he asked, accepting his new title from her with a
graceful indifference almost beyond his four and twenty years.

"I can hardly say just how--but--" she ended with only a smile. For
a full minute he caught and held her glance. She seemed unable to
look away, but her grave, blue English eyes were neither shy nor
confident. They just seemed to answer his--then,

"Miss Bestman, will you be my wife?" he asked gently. She was
neither surprised nor dismayed, only stood silent, as if she had
forgotten the art of speec