atalism which is common alike to Latin and to Oriental. It rescued him
more than once from something like nervous breakdown, calmed him
suddenly, lifted his burdens from outwearied shoulders, and left him in
peace to wait until some action should be possible. Then, in such hours,
he would fall to thinking of the girl for whose sake, in whose cause, he
lay bedridden, beset with dangers. As long before, she came to him in a
sort of waking vision--a being but half earthly, enthroned high above
him, calm-browed, very pure, with passionless eyes that gazed into far
distance and were unaware of the base things below. What would she think
of him, who had sworn to be true knight to her, if she could know how he
had bungled and failed? He was glad that she did not know, that if he
had blundered into peril the knowledge of it could not reach her to hurt
her pride.

And sometimes, also, with a great sadness and pity, he thought of poor
Coira O'Hara and of the pathetic wreck her life had fallen into. The
girl was so patently fit for better things! Her splendid beauty was not
a cheap beauty. She was no coarse-blown, gorgeous flower, imperfect at
telltale points. It was good blood that had modelled her dark
perfection, good blood that had shaped her long and slim and tapering
hands.

"A queen among goddesses!" The words remained with him, and he knew that
they were true. She might have held up her head among the greatest, this
adventurer's girl; but what chance had she had? What merest ghost of a
chance?

He watched her on the rare occasions when she came into the room. He
watched the poise of her head, her walk, the movements she made, and he
said to himself that there was no woman of his acquaintance whose grace
was more perfect--certainly none whose grace was so native.

Once he complained to her of the desperate idleness of his days, and
asked her to lend him a book of some kind, a review, even a daily
newspaper, though it be a week old.

"I should read the very advertisements with joy," he said.

She went out of the room and returned presently with an armful of books,
which she laid upon the bed without comment.

"In my prayers, Mademoiselle," cried Ste. Marie, "you shall be foremost
forever!" He glanced at the row of titles and looked up in sheer
astonishment. "May I ask whose books these are?" he said.

"They are mine," said the girl. "I caught up the ones that lay first at
hand. If you don't care for any of them, I w