but out in the golden October weather among the pines. Bob Flick
was returning to the desert the next day, so she had nothing to fear
from him.

Several days, almost a week, passed, and then a letter from Hanson,
telling her of Mrs. Hanson's departure, and assuring her that he meant
to come to Colina, that he would not stop to consider any risks he might
be taking, and that he was equally indifferent to her possible
prohibition. He was coming, coming on the morning train the next
Thursday, and this was Saturday.

She drew a long breath and pressed the letter to her heart. She would
never yield to him, never; not so long as that barrier to a marriage
between himself and herself--Mrs. Hanson--remained a legal wall between
them, but, oh! if she was to live, she must see him now and again, at
long, long intervals; but nevertheless occasionally.

The listless melancholy of months fell from her, and those about her,
noting the change, laid it to Bob Flick's influence and to the fact that
she was almost continually in the saddle; also Hughie and Gallito
congratulated themselves that she was speedily forgetting Hanson. Her
whole demeanor had changed, she even condescended to banter Jose, and
she took his jibes in good part; and in the evenings when Jose and
Gallito, Mrs. Nitschkan and Mrs. Thomas, had sat down to the silence of
their cards, and Hughie played softly on the piano in a dim corner, she
talked to Seagreave; in fact, their conversations became more prolonged
every evening.

One morning, a few days before Hanson arrived, she had chosen to stroll
up the mountainside, instead of riding as usual. Absorbed in her glowing
anticipations, she had walked almost above timber line, then, presently,
just as she realized that she was growing tired, the trail had led her
to an ideal and natural resting place, a little chamber of ease. It was
an open space where the pine needles lay thick upon the ground, so thick
that Pearl's feet sank deeply into them as she entered. All about it
were gnarled and stunted pine trees, bent and twisted by the high
mountain winds, until they appeared as strange, Japanese silhouettes
against the deep, blue sky. It was delightfully warm here, where the sun
fell so broadly, and Pearl threw herself down upon the pine needles. The
wind sighed softly through the forest, barely penetrating her retreat,
and finally, under the spell of the soft and dreamy atmosphere, she fell
asleep. After a time she wake