," he said quickly, glad of even a few minutes'
grace.

Fortune tossed him a small favor: the wood bin near the kitchen door
was empty--almost. Another time that would have brought a storm down
on the head of the unlucky stable hand whose duty it was to keep the
bin filled. But now Seth rejoiced at having to go to the wood yard,
and found it much too near.

He re-entered the house with an armload of sticks, and placed them
carefully on the embers; stirred up the glowing mass with a poker;
readjusted the fresh wood; provoked the red coals once more; and at
last, having exhausted the dilatory possibilities of the fire, stood
up clumsily to face the ordeal.

"Well, Marion," he began awkwardly, "I'm in for it, I reckon."

She did not reply; she only looked at him. There were dark shadows
around her eyes that heightened the pallor of her cheeks; but the eyes
themselves were clear and piercing, and as cold now as they had been
fiery before. For once in his life Huntington was conscious of his
bulk; he felt conspicuous; and the wound in his shoulder, almost
healed, began to itch and ache.--There were worse things than being
shot.--If she would only turn those eyes away from him! And then it
dawned upon him that she was waiting.

"I beg your pardon, Marion!" he stammered. "I was ugly. I didn't
really mean--I hope you'll forgive me."

For a minute longer she let him stew in his kettle, then lifted him
out scrupulously, at the end of a very long fork, and dropped him
steaming, as if he had been a lump of unsavory fat.

"Yes, I forgive you," she said, very, very distantly. "You probably
weren't thinking."

If that was forgiveness! But he did not know--even Claire did not know
then--how deeply he had wounded Marion with his rude and accusing
speech,--as if he had called a jeering crowd to look at the little
flower that blooms but once, and very secretly, in a woman's heart.
Forgive him? She never would forgive him for that blundering outburst,
which was indeed the more unforgivable because he did not seriously
mean, and certainly did not believe, the thing he said.

"Thank you, Marion dear!" said Claire softly.

At that Marion suddenly rushed to Claire, and knelt by her chair. She
had her own faults to be forgiven.

"I've been very foolish!" she cried. "I've caused you pain and
humiliation. I'm sorry. Please forgive me!"

So they cried it out in each other's arms, while Huntington rolled a
cigarette, took one whiff