to the life of the white man. In dark
houses shall you live, in hard labour shall you grow old. The white
stars, the great stars of the north, the clear winds that are the
breath of the Great Spirit, the noise of the buffalo-herd, the shrill
cry of the eagle, the note of the twanging bowstring--all these shall
be to you as a forgotten tongue. In the plains and the forests man
sees the foot-marks of the Great Spirit, hears His speech in the heart,
and beholds His presence in all things. And you shall know them no
more."

Dick nodded. "I shall know them no more," he answered, a little sadly,
"but I think the Great Spirit can be heard and known as well in my life
as in yours, Peter."

The next day Dick went on alone. He had no very distinct plan in his
mind, but he was too much ashamed of himself to go directly to the
homestead, and face the grave, displeased looks which he felt sure
would be his portion, and deservedly so. Instead, he skirted round the
edges of the familiar fields, and struck upwards through that little
rocky ravine which cut through the fertile acres.

As he walked cautiously amongst the dead fern and bracken, stooping
beneath the swinging, leafless branches, sinking knee-deep in the
drifted, dead leaves, he wondered what chance he would get of speaking
to Stephanie. Every familiar tree and fence, every detail of the
ground, everything which he had known before and now saw again, gave
him a feeling of half-painful pleasure which astonished him, for he had
not realised that anything about the farm had grown dear to him. And
the dearest thing of all--what of Stephanie? He almost ran along the
bottom of the narrowing ravine, brushing through the bushes, leaping
the fallen and rotting trees, yet his instinct of caution kept his
progress quiet.

The ravine ended in a steep bank, and Dick climbed up it swiftly in the
deep, dead leaves, breathless, and looked, and looked again. Beyond
the stump fence, on the gradually rising ground, stood Stephanie. Her
eyes and mouth had a wistful look, but she did not seem unhappy. She
was standing a little turned away from the ravine, watching the distant
forests beyond the farm-buildings--watching them dreamily, and a little
sadly. She had neither heard nor seen Dick. And he knelt in the deep
leaves, and looked at her, and looked. All his shame and repentance
surged upon him overwhelmingly, and kept him dumb and helpless, unable
to move.

Everything