osition when Tresler found himself allowed to move about
his room, and sit in a comfortable armchair in the delightful sunlight
at his open window. Nor was he kept in ignorance of the doings of the
raiders. Diane and he discussed them ardently. But she was careful to
keep him in ignorance of everything concerning herself and her father.
He knew nothing of the latter's objection to his presence in the
house, and he knew nothing of the blind man's threats, or that fearful
attack he had perpetrated in one of his fits of mad passion.

These days, so delightful to them both, so brimful of happiness for
him, so fraught with such a blending of pain and sweetness for her,
had stolen along almost uncounted, unheeded. But like all such
overshadowed delights, their end came swiftly, ruthlessly.

The signal was given at the midday meal. The rancher, who had never
mentioned Tresler's name since that memorable night, rose from the
table to retire to his room. At the door he paused and turned.

"That man, Tresler," he said, in his smooth, even tones. "He's well
enough to go to the bunkhouse. See to it."

And he left the girl crushed and helpless. It had come at last. She
knew that she could keep her lover no longer at her side. Even Doc.
Osler could not help her, and, besides, if she refused to obey, her
father would not have the slightest compunction in attending to the
matter in his own way.

So it was with a heavy heart she took herself up-stairs for the
afternoon. This _tete-a-tete_ had become their custom every day; she
with her sewing, and the sick man luxuriating in a pipe. Tresler was
still bandaged, but it was only lightly, for the wound was almost
healed.

The girl took up her position as usual, and Tresler moved his chair
over beside the little table she laid her work on, and sat facing her.
He loved to gaze upon the sad little face. He loved to say things to
her that would rouse it from its serious caste, and show him the
shadows dispelled, and the pretty smile wreathing itself in their
stead. And he had found it so easy too. The simplicity, the honesty,
the single-mindedness of this prairie flower made her more than
susceptible to girlish happiness, even amidst her troublous
surroundings. But he knew that these moments were all too passing,
that to make them enduring he must somehow contrive to get her away
from that world of brutality to a place where she could bask,
surrounded by love and the sunshine of a happy