wood smiled appreciatively.

"Nothing could be more painful to me than to miss an opportunity of
making Nick furious," he said; "but I have not lived fifty years without
having learned to immolate myself and my dearest ambitions upon the
appropriate altars."

After which eloquent summing-up, he turned the conversation into another
channel.

It was not long after this that Stanwood found himself experiencing a
peculiar depression of spirits, which he positively refused to trace to
its true source. He told himself that he wanted his freedom; he was
getting tired of Elizabeth; he must send her home. It was nonsense for
her to stay any longer, spoiling her complexion and his temper; it was
really out of the question to have this thing go on any longer. Having
come to which conclusion, it annoyed him very much to find himself
enjoying her society. His depression of spirits was intermittent.

One morning, when he found her sitting on the saw-horse, with the new
bronco taking his breakfast from a bag she held in her lap, the sun
shining full in her clear young face, health and happiness in every line
of her figure, a positive thrill of fatherly pride and affection seized
him. But the reaction was immediate.

He turned on his heel, disgusted at this refutation of his theories. He
was wretched and uncomfortable as he had never been before, and if it
was not this intruding presence that made him so, what was it? Of course
he was getting tired of her; what could be more natural? For fifteen
years he had not known the pressure of a bond. Of course it was irksome
to him! He really must get rid of it.

His moodiness did not escape Elizabeth, nor did she fail to note the
recent accentuating of those lines in his face, which had at first
struck her painfully, but which she had gradually become accustomed to.
In her own mind she concluded that her father had lived too long at this
high altitude, and that she must persuade him to leave it.

"Papa," she said, as they stood for a moment in the doorway after
supper, "don't you think it would be good fun to go abroad this autumn?"

His drooping spirit revived; she was getting tired of ranching.

"A capital plan, my dear. Just what you need," he replied, with more
animation than he had shown since morning.

"Let us start pretty soon," she went on persuasively, deceived by his
ready acquiescence.

"Us? My dear, what are you thinking of? I' m tired to death of Europe!
Nothing would