ry evening brought Buck's strong presence to the
farm for a brief visit. And each visit was a dream of delight to the
simple, loving girl. All day long, as she labored through her
household cares, and the affairs of the farm she lived in, she dwelt
on the memory of the morning visit, or looked forward to her lover's
coming as the sun reached the western skies. Every night, when she
sought the snow-white ease of her bed, it was to spend her few
remaining minutes of waking dwelling on the happiness of past moments,
and ultimately to anticipate in dreams the delights of the morrow.

So the days sped rapidly by and the time for Aunt Mercy's arrival drew
on. And with each passing day the shadows receded, her trepidations
became less and less, until they almost reached the vanishing-point.
She felt that in Buck's love no shadow could live. With him at her
side she need have no fear of evil. He was exalted by the very
wholesomeness of his mind and heart, and the strength and confidence
that was his, far, far above the level of hideous superstitions and
happenings. His love for her, her love for him were too great, far too
great, for disaster to ever touch them.

Then came Aunt Mercy.

She came in the middle of an oppressive afternoon. The days of late
had assumed an extraordinary oppressiveness for the season of the
year. She came amidst the peaceful calm when all farm life seems to be
wrapped in a restful somnolence, when the animal world has spent its
morning energies, and seeks rest that it may recuperate for the
affairs surrounding its evening meal.

With her coming Joan's first realization was of dismay at the manner
in which she had underestimated the woman's personality, how strangely
absence had distorted her view of the mind behind those hard, gray
eyes. And with this realization came an uneasy feeling that the power
and influence which had sent her rushing headlong from her home, to
seek the peace of the wilderness, was no fancy of a weak, girlish
mind, but a force, a strong, living force, which made itself felt the
instant she came into the woman's uncanny presence again.

She was just the same unyielding creature she had always known. Her
peevish plaint at the journey, her railing at the stupidity and
impertinence of the teamster, her expressed disgust at the country,
her complaining of everything. These things were just what Joan must
have expected, had she not lived away from her aunt, and so lost her
prope