ted. The sadness that had so long been almost second
nature to the girl steadily deepened, and Mrs. Osler, ever kind and
watchful of her charge, noticed the depression settling on her, and
with motherly solicitude--she had no children of her own--insisted on
the only remedy she understood--physic. And the girl submitted to the
kindly treatment, knowing well enough that there was no physic to help
her complaint. She knew that, in spite of his tender messages and
assurances of affection, Tresler could never be anything more in her
life than he was at present. Even in death her father had carried out
his threat. She could never marry. It would be a cruel outrage on any
man. She told herself that no self-respecting man would ever marry a
girl with such a past, such parentage.

And so she waited for her lover's return to tell him. Once she thought
of writing it, but she knew Jack too well. He would only come down to
Forks post haste, and that might upset his plans; and she had no
desire to cause him further trouble. She would tell him her decision
when he had leisure to come to her. Then she would wait for the
government orders about the ranch, and, if she were allowed to keep
it, she would sell the land as soon as possible and leave the country
forever. She felt that this course was the right one to pursue; but it
was very, very hard, and no measure of tonics could dispel the
deepening shadows which the cruelty of her lot had brought to her
young face.

It was wonderful the kindness and sympathy extended to her in that
rough settlement. There was not a man or woman, especially the men,
who did not do all in his or her power to make her forget her
troubles. No one ever alluded to Mosquito Bend in her presence, and,
instead, assumed a rough, cheerful jocularity, which sat as awkwardly
on the majority as it well could. For most of them were illiterate,
hard-living folk, rendered desperately serious in the struggle for
existence.

And back to this place Tresler came one day. He was a very different
man now from what he had been on his first visit. He looked about him
as he crossed the market-place. Quickly locating Doc. Osler's little
house, he smiled to himself as he thought of the girl waiting for him
there. But he kept to his course and rode straight on to Carney's
saloon. Here, as before, he dismounted. But he needed no help or
guide. He straightway hooked his horse's reins over the tie-post and
walked into the bar.