the woman stood looking at it, a sneer curving her
lips.

CHAPTER XVI

WHEREIN A WOMAN LIES

"Aren't you going to welcome me, dearie?"

From the porch of the Bar B ranchhouse Rosalind had watched the rapid
approach of the buckboard, and she now stood at the edge of the step
leading to the porch, not more than ten or fifteen feet distant from the
vehicle, shocked into dumb amazement.

"Why, yes--of course. That is--Why, what on earth brought you out here?"

"A perfectly good train--as far as your awfully crude town of Manti; and
this--er--spring-legged thing, the rest of the way," laughed Hester
Harvey. She had stepped down, a trifle flushed, inwardly amused, outwardly
embarrassed--which was very good acting; but looking very attractive and
girlish in the simple dress she had donned for the occasion--and for the
purpose of making a good impression. So attractive was she that the
contemplation of her brought a sinking sensation to Rosalind that drooped
her shoulders, and caused her to look around, involuntarily, for something
to lean upon. For there flashed into her mind at this instant the
conviction that she had herself to blame for this visitation--she had
written to Ruth Gresham, and Ruth very likely had disseminated the news,
after the manner of all secrets, and Hester had heard it. And of course
the attraction was "Brand" Trevison! A new emotion surged through Rosalind
at this thought, an emotion so strong that it made her gasp--jealousy!

She got through the ordeal somehow--with an appearance of pleasure--though
it was hard for her to play the hypocrite! But so soon as she decently
could, without cutting short the inevitable inconsequential chatter which
fills the first moments of renewed friendships, she hurried Hester to a
room and during her absence sat immovable in her chair on the porch
staring stonily out at the plains.

It was not until half an hour later, when they were sitting on the porch,
that Hester delivered the stroke that caused Rosalind's hands to fall
nervelessly into her lap, her lips to quiver and her eyes to fill with a
reflection of a pain that gripped her hard, somewhere inside. For Hester
had devised her method, as suggested by Corrigan.

"It may seem odd to you--if you know anything of the manner of my breaking
off with Trevison Brandon--but he wrote me about a month ago, asking me to
come out here. I didn't accept the invitation at once--because I didn't
want him to be too