th his two great hands on the chair-arm and his chin dropped on
his chest. Fleda's hands were clasped in her lap, and her big eyes never
left the woman's face.

"Before a month was gone I had married him," the low, tired voice went
on. "It was a gay wedding; and my father was very happy, for he thought
I had got the desire of a woman's life--a home of her own. For a time
all went well. Dennis was gay and careless and wilful, but he was easy
to live with, too, except when he came back from the town where he sold
his horses. Then he was different, because of the drink, and he was
quarrelsome with me--and cruel, too.

"At last when he came home with the drink upon him, he would sleep on
the floor and not beside me. This wore upon my heart. I thought that
if I could only put my hand on his shoulder and whisper in his ear, he
would get better of his bad feeling; but he was sulky, and he would not
bear with me. Though I never loved him as I loved my Boy, still I tried
to be a good wife to him, and never turned my eyes to any other man."

Suddenly she stopped as though the pain of speaking was too great.
Madame Bulteel murmured something, but the only word that reached the
ears of the others was the Arabic word 'mafish'. Her pale face was
suffused as she said it.

Two or three times the woman essayed to speak again, but could not.
At last, however, she overcame her emotion and said: "So it was when
M'sieu' Felix Marchand came up from the Sagalac."

The old man started and muttered harshly, but Fleda had foreseen the
entrance of the dissolute Frenchman into the tale, and gave no sign of
surprise.

"M'sieu' Marchand bought horses," the sad voice trailed on. "One day he
bought the mining-claims Dennis had been holding till he could develop
them or sell them for good money. When Dennis went to town again he
brought me back a present of a belt with silver clasps; but yet again
that night he slept upon the floor alone. So it went on. M. Marchand,
he goes on to the mountains and comes back; and he buys more horses,
and Dennis takes them to Yargo, and M. Marchand goes with him, but comes
back before Dennis does. It was then M'sieu' begun to talk to me; to say
things that soothe a woman when she is hurt. I knew now Dennis did not
want me as when he first married me. He was that kind of man--quick to
care and quicker to forget. He was weak, he could not fasten where he
stood. It pleased him to be gay and friendly with me when he w