I ask you, by your love
for me, to aid me in this, the first thing of importance I have ever
asked you."

Miss Shellington drew reluctantly away.

"I can't, I can't! My very soul revolts at the idea." Then, gaining
strength of voice, the girl, marble-white, exclaimed, "If you're not
jesting, and are still determined to follow out your plans," she caught
her breath in a sob and whispered, "then, like my brother, I shall have
to ask you to leave, please."

A frown darkened Everett's face, followed by an expression of ridicule.

"Is this your love for me? You would let two strange squatter children
come between us? Am I to understand it so?"

"You may understand this: that, after knowing that their father is
wicked, that he would have sacrificed his daughter to a vile man,
without marriage to lessen her suffering, after knowing that he tried to
make a thief of his noble-hearted boy,--I say, after knowing all this,
if you can still insist upon helping him, then I would not dare--to
trust--my life with you!"

Everett's rage blotted out all remembrance of how he left the house; but
there was a vivid picture in his mind of a woman, pale and lovely,
opening the door and dismissing him coldly. He remembered also that she
had shut the door as if it were never to be opened again to him. His
only consolation was that before long he would be able to face Fledra
Cronk and prove his power to her. With this thought came the
satisfaction of knowing that he would be able to wring Horace
Shellington's heart.

After closing the door upon her lover, Ann stood breathless. The light
had suddenly gone from her sun--the whole living world seemed plunged
into darkness. Everett was gone, gone from her possibly forever. His
face had expressed a determination that proved he would not change his
mind. Why had he reasoned himself into thinking that justice could be
served in the squatter's cause? Everett must have a motive. Her judgment
told her to accuse the man she loved; her heart demanded that she excuse
him. For one instant her generous spirit balanced the squatter
children's welfare and her own future. She had promised to protect
Fledra and Floyd, promised them and Horace. Only a broken prayer escaped
her lips as she turned and walked quickly down the hall. She did not
wait to knock, but twisted the door-handle convulsively, and appeared
before her brother without a plea for pardon for her unannounced
entrance.

"He's gone forever!"