w you are not
repeating the same mistake? The fancy which deceived you then may do
the same again."

"How do I know?" Geoffrey's voice rang convincingly as he turned upon
the questioner, stretched out an arm towards her, and then dropped it
swiftly. "I know what love is now, because you have taught me.
Listen, Miss Savine, I am as the Almighty made me, a plain--and
sometimes an ill-tempered man, who would gladly lay down his life to
save you sorrow; but if what you say divides us is all there is, then,
as long as you remain Helen Savine, I shall cling fast to my purpose
and strive to prove myself worthy. Again, you were right--how could
you be otherwise?--but I shall yet convince you that you need not
shrink from me."

"It would be wiser to take a definite 'no' for answer," said Helen.
"Why should this fancy spoil your life for you?"

"You cannot take all hope from me," Geoffrey declared. "Would you
suspect me of exaggerated sentiment, if I said my life has been yours
for a long time and is yours now, for it is true. I will go back to
the work that is best for me, merely adding that, if ever there is
either trouble or adversity in which I can aid you--though God forbid,
for your sake, that should ever be so--you have only to send for me."

"I can at least sincerely wish you success in your great undertaking."
Helen offered him her hand, and was conscious of a faint
disappointment, when, barely touching it, he turned hurriedly away.
She watched him cross the lawn towards the stables, and then waited
until a rapid thud of hoofs broke the silence of the woods.

"Gone, and I let him carry that hope away!" she said, still looking
towards the forest with troubled eyes. "Yesterday I could never have
done so, but yesterday he was gone, and now----"

Helen did not finish her sentence, but as the beat of hoofs died away,
glanced at the hand which for a moment had rested in Geoffrey's. "What
has happened to me, and is he learning quickly or growing strangely
timid?" she asked herself.

Thurston almost rode over Julius Savine near the railroad depot, and
reined in his horse to say:

"I have my answer, sir, but do not feel beaten yet. Some unholy luck
insists that all my affairs must be mixed with my daily business, and,
because of what was said in the canyon, I must ask you, now of all
times, to let me hold the option of that partnership or acceptance of
the offer I made you until we vanquish the river."

He wen