ing provided the counsel, was not slow in following it
up with the necessary opportunity. Judith was sitting with Creed alone,
on a Wednesday night--he had come to them the preceding Tuesday. Her
uncle being worn out had planned to sleep till midnight, thus dividing
the watch with her. About eleven o'clock Creed opened his eyes and asked
in what seemed to her a fairly natural tone for a drink. She brought it
to him, and when he had drank he began speaking very softly.

"I'm glad I came back to the mountains," he said in a weak, whispering
voice. "I promised you I'd come, and I did come, Judith."

"Yes," answered Judith, putting down the glass and seating herself at the
bedside, taking his hand and stroking it softly, studying his face with
intent, questioning eyes. "You know where you are now, don't you,
Creed?"

He smiled at her.

"I'm in the front room at your house where we-all danced the night of the
play-party," he said. "I loved you that night, Judith--only I hadn't
quite found out about it."

The statement was made with the simplicity of a child--or of a sick man.
It went over Judith with a sudden, sweet shock. Then her jealous heart
must know that it was really all hers. Nerve racked as only a creature of
the open can be after weeks of confinement in a sick-room, torn with the
possessive passion of her earth-born temperament, she stood up suddenly
and asked him in a voice of pain that sounded harsh and menacing,

"Creed, whar's Huldy?"

"I don't know," returned Creed tremulously. The blue eyes in their great
hollows came up to her face in a frightened gaze. Instantly they lost
their clearness; they clouded and filmed with that look of confusion
which had been in them from the first.

"You're married to her--ain't you?" choked Judith, horrified at what she
had done, loathing herself for it, yet pushed on to do more.

"Yes," whispered Creed miserably. "Sit down by me again, Judith. Don't be
mad. What are you mad about? I forget--there was awful trouble, and
somebody was shot--oh, how they all hate me!"

The fluttering moment of normal conditions was gone. The baffled,
confused eyes closed; the thin hands began to fumble piteously about the
covers; the pale lips resumed their rapid motion, while from between them
flowed the old, swift stream of broken whispers.

Judith had quenched the first feeble flame of intelligence that flickered
up toward her. She remained a moment staring down at her handiwork, t