ite snowcaps of the purpling hills. What a
scene to her unaccustomed eyes. The breadth of it. The immensity.

She drew a deep breath and sat up.

She was dressed in a simple white shirt-waist and blue serge skirt,
and her masses of red-gold hair were loosely coiled about her
well-shaped head. The eager light of interest in her violet eyes lit
her beautiful young face, lending it an animation which added a
wonderful vitality to her natural beauty. The firm, rich lips were
parted eagerly. The wide-open eyes, so deeply intelligent, shone with
a lustre of delight there was no mistaking. Her rounded bosom rose and
fell rapidly as the glad thought flew through her brain that
this--this was her new home, where she was to forget the past and shut
out all recollection of that evil shadow which had so long pursued
her.

Yes, this was the beginning of her new life. Joan Stanmore was dead,
and out of the ashes had arisen Joan Rest, ready to face the world in
a spirit of well-doing bachelorhood. Here, here in the wild mountain
world, where men were few and apart from her old life, she could face
the future with perfect confidence.

She breathed a deep sigh of contentment and lolled back in the rocker,
dropping her eyes from the snow-crowned hills to the precious little
farm that was all hers. Then, in an instant, she sat up again as the
tall figure of a young man appeared round the corner of the barn.

For some moments she followed his movements wonderingly. He walked
straight over to the hay corral with long, easy strides. There was
none of the slouch of a man idling about him. His whole attitude was
full of distinct purpose. She saw him enter the corral and mount the
half-cut haystack, and proceed to cut deeper into it. A moment later
he pitched the loose hay to the ground, and himself slid down on to
it. Then, stooping, he gathered it in his arms and left the corral.

Now she saw his face for the first time. It was dark. Nor could she be
certain that his coloring was due to sunburn. His eyes were dark, too,
and his hair. He was a good-looking man, she decided, and quite young.
But how tall. And what shoulders. She wondered who he was, and what he
was doing on her farm.

Then, of a sudden, she remembered she had spoken of a hired man to
Mrs. Ransford. Had she----?

Her reflections were cut short by the sudden appearance of the
farm-wife from the house. The old woman trotted hastily across the
yard toward the barn, her fa