oken it, but
you do not care--you could have been master of my brain and soul
whenever you pleased---"

"Ah yes, dear!" he interrupted, with a smile--"That would be so easy!"

The touch of satire in these words was lost on her,--she took them
quite literally, and a sudden softness sweetened her anger.

"Yes!--quite easy!" she said--"And you would be pleased! You would do
as you wished with me--men like to rule women!"

"When it is worth while!" he thought, looking at her with a curious
pitifulness as one might look at a struggling animal caught in a net.
Aloud he said--

"Yes, Manella!--men like to rule women. It is their special
privilege--they have enjoyed it always, even in the days when the
Indian 'braves' beat their squaws out here in California, and killed
them outright if they dared to complain of the beating! Women are busy
just now trying to rule men--it's an experiment, but it won't do! Men
are the masters of life! They expect to be obeyed by all the rest of
creation. _I_ expect to be obeyed!--and so, Manella, when I tell you to
go home, you must go! Yes!--love, tempers and all!--you must go!"

She met his eyes with a resolved look in her own.

"I am going!" she answered--"But I shall come again. Oh, yes! And yet
again! and very often! I shall come even if it is only to find you dead
on this hill--killed by your own secret! Yes--I shall come!"

He gave an involuntary movement of surprise and annoyance. Had Mr.
Senator Gwent discussed his affairs with this beautiful foolish girl
who, like some forest animal, cared for nothing but the satisfaction of
mating where her wishes inclined.

"What do you mean, Manella?" he demanded, imperatively--"Do you expect
to find me dead?"

She nodded vehemently. Tears were in her eyes and she turned her head
away that he might not see them.

"What a cheerful prospect!" he exclaimed, gaily--"And I'm to be killed
by my own secret, am I? I wonder what it is! Ah, Manella, Manella! That
stupid old Gwent has been at you, stuffing your mind with a lot of
nonsense--don't you believe him! I've no 'secret' that will kill me--I
don't want to be killed; No, Manella! Though you come 'again and yet
again and ever so often' as you say, you will not find me dead! I'm too
strong!"

But Manella, yielding to her inward excitement, pointed a hand at him
with a warning air of a tragedy queen.

"Do not boast!" she said--"God is always listening! No man is too
strong for God! I am not