and muggy one threatening rain awhile Jane was
resting in the court, a horseman clattered through he grove and up to
the hitching-rack. He leaped off and approached Jane with the manner
of a man determined to execute difficult mission, yet fearful of its
reception. In the gaunt, wiry figure and the lean, brown face Jane
recognized one of her Mormon riders, Blake. It was he of whom Judkins
had long since spoken. Of all the riders ever in her employ Blake owed
her the most, and as he stepped before her, removing his hat and making
manly efforts to subdue his emotion, he showed that he remembered.

"Miss Withersteen, mother's dead," he said.

"Oh--Blake!" exclaimed Jane, and she could say no more.

"She died free from pain in the end, and she's buried--resting at last,
thank God!... I've come to ride for you again, if you'll have me. Don't
think I mentioned mother to get your sympathy. When she was living
and your riders quit, I had to also. I was afraid of what might be
done--said to her.... Miss Withersteen, we can't talk of--of what's going
on now--"

"Blake, do you know?"

"I know a great deal. You understand, my lips are shut. But without
explanation or excuse I offer my services. I'm a Mormon--I hope a good
one. But--there are some things!... It's no use, Miss Withersteen, I
can't say any more--what I'd like to. But will you take me back?"

"Blake!... You know what it means?"

"I don't care. I'm sick of--of--I'll show you a Mormon who'll be true to
you!"

"But, Blake--how terribly you might suffer for that!"

"Maybe. Aren't you suffering now?"

"God knows indeed I am!"

"Miss Withersteen, it's a liberty on my part to speak so, but I know you
pretty well--know you'll never give in. I wouldn't if I were you. And
I--I must--Something makes me tell you the worst is yet to come. That's
all. I absolutely can't say more. Will you take me back--let me ride for
you--show everybody what I mean?"

"Blake, it makes me happy to hear you. How my riders hurt me when they
quit!" Jane felt the hot tears well to her eyes and splash down upon her
hands. "I thought so much of them--tried so hard to be good to them. And
not one was true. You've made it easy to forgive. Perhaps many of
them really feel as you do, but dare not return to me. Still, Blake, I
hesitate to take you back. Yet I want you so much."

"Do it, then. If you're going to make your life a lesson to Mormon
women, let me make mine a lesson to the men. Right