ad been a
little selfish in his choice of an occupation, that he sacrificed her
inclinations to his own. She did not guess,--how could she?--his dreams
for her. She did not see the future through his thoughts, but through
his words. A negative hopelessness settled down on her, which soon her
strong spirit, worthy counterpart of her brother's, changed to more
positive rebellion. Thorpe had aroused antagonism where he craved only
love. The knowledge of that fact would have surprised and hurt him, for
he was entirely without suspicion of it. He lived subjectively to so
great a degree that his thoughts and aims took on a certain tangible
objectivity,--they became so real to him that he quite overlooked the
necessity of communication to make them as real to others. He assumed
unquestioningly that the other must know. So entirely had he thrown
himself into his ambition of making a suitable position for Helen, so
continually had he dwelt on it in his thoughts, so earnestly had he
striven for it in every step of the great game he was beginning to play,
that it never occurred to him he should also concede a definite outward
manifestation of his feeling in order to assure its acceptance. Thorpe
believed that he had sacrificed every thought and effort to his sister.
Helen was becoming convinced that he had considered only himself.

After finishing the letter which gave occasion to this train of thought,
Thorpe lit his pipe and strolled out into the darkness. Opposite the
little office he stopped amazed.

Through the narrow window he could see Radway seated in front of the
stove. Every attitude of the man denoted the most profound dejection. He
had sunk down into his chair until he rested on almost the small of his
back, his legs were struck straight out in front of him, his chin rested
on his breast, and his two arms hung listless at his side, a pipe half
falling from the fingers of one hand. All the facetious lines had turned
to pathos. In his face sorrowed the anxious, questing, wistful look of
the St. Bernard that does not understand.

"What's the matter with the boss, anyway?" asked Thorpe in a low voice
of Jackson Hines, when the seven-up game was finished.

"H'aint ye heard?" inquired the old man in surprise.

"Why, no. What?"

"Busted," said the old man sententiously.

"How? What do you mean?"

"What I say. He's busted. That freshet caught him too quick. They's
more'n a million and a half logs left in the woods tha