At last, she said slowly: "Marjie isn't twenty-one, but
she's old for her years. I won't command her. If she will consent, so
will I, and I'll do all I can."

Judson was jubilant. He clapped his hands and giggled hysterically.

"Good enough, good enough! I'll let it be quietly understood we are
engaged, and I'll manage the rest. You must use all the influence you
can with her. Leave nothing undid that you can do. Oh, joy! You'll
excuse my pleasure, Mrs. Whately. The prize is as good as mine right
now, though it may take a few months even to get it all completely
settled. I'll go slow and quiet and careful. But I've won."

Could Mrs. Whately have seen clear into the man's cruel, cunning little
mind, she would have been unutterably shocked at the ugly motives
contending there. But she couldn't see. She was made for sunshine and
quiet ways. She could never fathom the gloom. It was from her father
that Marjie inherited all that strong will and courage and power to walk
as bravely in the shadows as in the light, trusting and surefooted
always.

Judson waited only until some minor affairs had been considered, and
then he rose to go.

"I'm so sure of the outcome now," he said gleefully, "I'll put a crimp
in some stories right away; and I'll just let it be known quietly at
once that the matter's settled, then Marjie can't change it," he added
mentally. "And you're to use all your influence. Good-evening, my dear
Mrs. W. It'll soon be another name I may have for you."

Meanwhile, Marjie sat up on "Rockport," looking out over the landscape,
wrapped in the autumn peace. Every inch of the cliff-side was sacred to
her. The remembrance of happy childhood and the sweet and tender
memories of love's young dream had hallowed all the ground and made the
view of the whole valley a part of the life of the days gone by. The
woodland along the Neosho was yellow and bronze and purple in the
afternoon sunshine, the waters swept along by verdant banks, for the
fall rains had given life to the brown grasses of August. Far up the
river, the shapely old cottonwood stood in the pride of its autumn gold,
outlined against a clear blue sky, while all the prairie lay in seas of
golden haze about it. On the gray, jagged rocks of the cliff, the
blood-red leaves of the vines made a rich warmth of color.

For a long time Marjie sat looking out over the valley. Its beauty
appealed to her now as it had done in the gladsome days, only the appeal
touch