eriences of that morning,
and I think we all felt it. Even the great frowning precipices seemed
to have lost their ordinary gloom, and when some young white eagles rose
from a crag and flew away, growing smaller as they passed, until they
were one with the snow of the glacier on Mount Trinity, or a wapiti
peeped out from the underwood and stole away with glancing feet down the
valley; we could scarcely refrain from doing some foolish thing out of
sheer delight. At length we emerged from a thicket of Douglas pine upon
the shore of the Whi-Whi, and, loosening our boat, were soon moving
slowly on the cool current. For an hour or more we rowed down the river
towards the Long Cloud, and then drew into the shade of a little
island for lunch. When we came to the rendezvous, where picnic parties
generally feasted, we found a fire still smoking and the remnants of a
lunch scattered about. A party of picnickers had evidently been there
just before us. Ruth suggested that it might be some of the tourists
from the hotel. This seemed very probable.

There were scraps of newspaper on the ground, and among them was
an empty envelope. Mechanically I picked it up, and read the
superscription. What I saw there I did not think necessary to disclose
to the other members of the party; but, as unconcernedly as
possible, for Ruth Devlin's eyes were on me, I used it to light a
cigar--inappropriately, for lunch would soon be ready.

"What was the name on the envelope?" she said. "Was there one?"

I guessed she had seen my slight start. I said evasively: "I fancy there
was, but a man who is immensely interested in a new brand of cigar--"

"You are a most deceitful man," she said. "And, at the least, you are
selfish in holding your cigar more important than a woman's curiosity.
Who can tell what romance was in the address on that envelope--"

"What elements of noble tragedy, what advertisement for a certain
property in the Whi-Whi Valley," interrupted Roscoe, breaking off the
thread of a sailor's song he was humming, as he tended the water-kettle
on the fire.

This said, he went on with the song again. I was struck by the wonderful
change in him now. Presentiments were far from him, yet I, having read
that envelope, knew that they were not without cause. Indeed, I had an
inkling of that the night before, when I heard the voices on the hill.
Ruth Devlin stopped for a moment in the preparations to ask Roscoe
what he was humming. I, answering