fore he would have counted
this walk to St. James one of the events of his life. Now it had lost
its fascination. Despite his efforts to destroy the vision of the
beautiful face that had looked at him through the king's window its
memory still haunted him. The eyes, soft with appeal; the red mouth,
quivering, and with lips parted as if about to speak to him; the bowed
head with its tumbled glory of hair--all had burned themselves upon his
soul in a picture too deep to be eradicated. If St. James was
interesting now it was because that face was a part of it, because the
secret of its life, of the misery that it had confessed to him, was
hidden somewhere down there among its scattered log homes.

Slowly he made his way down the slope in the direction of Strang's
castle, the tower of which, surmounted by its great beacon, glistened in
the morning sun. He would find Strang there. And there would be one
chance in a thousand of seeing the girl--if Obadiah had spoken the
truth. As he passed down he met men and boys coming up the slope and
others moving along at the bottom of it, all going toward the interior
of the island. They had shovels or rakes or hoes upon their shoulders
and he guessed that the Mormon fields were in that direction; others
bore axes; and now and then wagons, many of them drawn by oxen, left the
town over the road that ran near the shore of the lake. Those whom he
met stared at him curiously, much interested evidently in the appearance
of a stranger. Nathaniel paid but small heed to them. As he entered the
grove through which the councilor had guided him the night before his
eagerness became almost excitement. He approached the great log house
swiftly but cautiously, keeping as much from view as possible. As he
came under the window through which he had looked upon the king and his
wives his heart leaped with anticipation, with hope that was strangely
mingled with fear. For only a moment he paused to listen, and
notwithstanding the seriousness of his position he could not repress a
smile as there came to his ears the crying of children and the high
angry voice of a woman. He passed around to the front of the house. The
door of Strang's castle was wide open and unguarded. No one had seen his
approach; no one accosted him as he mounted the low steps; there was no
one in the room into which he gazed a moment later. It was the great
hall into which he had spied a few hours previous. There was the long
table wi