f losing in a moment the self-control which years of
civilization had instilled within him. Having been literally goaded to
madness, little wonder that he too was on the verge of succumbing to the
customs of the land, and was beginning to feel a secret longing to shoot
and swear and swagger and destroy. Knowing her father to be as good as
his word, and to possess the courage of a lion when aroused, Bessie
found herself forced to capitulate a day earlier than she otherwise
would have, for, incensed though she was, not even a woman of her grit
and spirit could possibly have held out much longer under conditions
that turned night into day.

It was galling in the extreme to be compelled to surrender so soon, but
there being no alternative, she was obliged to accept the humiliation
with the best grace possible. Accordingly, she appeared in the garden
late on the afternoon of the fourth day where she espied the object of
her wrath and annoyance seated comfortably on the grass at the foot of a
pear tree, and as usual--smoking. The sight of him was hardly conducive
to soothe the feelings of one who inwardly was a seething volcano, and
she vowed that she would pay him out to the full before she was done
with him.

He seemed greatly surprised by her appearance, and hastily throwing away
his cigar, rose to his feet with the intention of speaking to her, but
without noticing him, she made her way to the farthest corner of the
garden and seated herself in a large rustic chair that stood in the
shadow of the high wall which surrounded the garden. She knew he would
not be long in renewing his persecutions. And angry though she was, she
could not help wondering at the novelty of the situation. She, Bessie
Van Ashton, placed at the mercy of an obscure person, a rustic nobody!
Like every other woman, she had dreamed of such a man as this, one that
would seize and carry her off; but then the time and place were other
than the present, and he resembled more closely the type of man with
which she had been familiar all her life. The spirit of antagonism which
he aroused was due rather to pique than to dislike, for in spite of his
audacity she could not help admiring his spirit.

Her sense of injury was poignantly enhanced by the fact that she
recognized herself to be the true cause of her trouble. Had she not led
him on this thing might never have happened; and yet, she was neither
sorry nor repentant for what she had done. Had any other m