duced in her a shudder of repulsion, of
positive loathing. She could no longer endure the clasp of his hand, and
in spite of herself she was forced, by contrasting experience, to
acknowledge the allurement which lay in Ben Fordyce's handsome face and
strong and graceful body.

"I must go away--for a while at least. I'll go back to the ranch and
think it over."

And yet even the ranch was partly Haney's! How could she escape from her
indebtedness to him? To what could she turn to make a living? To leave
this big house and her horses, her garden, her dresses and jewels,
required heroic resolution, but what of the long days of toil and
dulness to which she must return?

Worn with the ceaseless alternations of these thoughts, she fell into a
dream that was half a waking vision. She thought she had just packed a
bag with the gown she wore the night she came to Haney's rescue, when he
came shuffling into her room and said: "Where are you goin', darlin'?"

She replied: "To the ranch--to think things over."

The tears came to his eyes, and he said: "'Tis the sun out of me sky
when ye go, Bertie. Do not stay long."

She promised to be back soon, but rode away with settled intent never to
return.

No one knew her on the train, for she had drawn her veil close and sat
very still. It seemed that she went near the mine in some strange way,
and at the switch Williams got on the train to stop her and persuade her
to return. He was terribly agitated. "Didn't you know Mart is sick?" he
said, in a tone of reproach. It seemed as if a broad river of years
flowed between herself and the girl who used to see this queer little
man enter her hotel door--but he was unchanged. "You can't do this
thing!" he went on, his lips trembling with emotion.

"What thing?" she asked.

"Fordyce tells me you're going to throw poor old Mart overboard."

"That's my notion--I can't be his wife, and so I'm getting out," she
answered.

"But, girl, you can't do that!" and he swore in his excitement. "Mart
needs you--we all need you. It'll kill him."

"I can't help it!" she answered, with infinite weariness in throat and
brain. "I pass it up, and go back to my brother."

"I don't see why."

"Because I've no right to Mart's money."

"You're crazy to think of such a thing. You a queen! Who's goin' to
catch the money when you drop it?" he asked, and helplessly added: "I
don't believe you. You're kiddin', you're tryin' us out."

"I'm doing nothing