one was on the porch. A vast weight of
misery and chagrin was on him. He sat down on the steps and fumbled in
his pocket for his pipe. But his nerveless fingers broke the only match
he had, as he attempted to strike it on the step, and, holding his pipe
before him, he sat staring into space. He had a hunted sense of wanting
to avoid forever all human contact; an intangible shame burned within
him, drying up the tender emotions which so recently had swayed his
being.

Suddenly his glance fell on his valise still resting on the step where
he had left it, and, rising, he clutched it as he might the hand of a
friend. The next instant he was striding over the grass to the gate. To
shun the village, the lights of which winked sardonically in the
distance, he crossed the road, climbed the fence and was in the meadow
which lay between his land and Dixie Hart's. Blindly he trudged through
the high weeds and grass, now wet with dew.

Cruel, cruel--a joke, a mere joke, as such things went with the shallow
and light-minded, and yet it was a tragedy. For several days, in the
highest realm of fancy he had revelled in the first joys of fatherhood,
only to have it end like this. He paused on a slight rise of the ground
and looked back at the outlines of the farm-house, and cursed it and its
inhuman inmates. As he dug his nails into his palms and gnashed his
teeth, he swore that the surrounding mountains, so false in their late
promises, should never see him more; the wide, free world should be his
solace, if solace could be had.

Suddenly, as he stood, he became conscious that there was a moving blur
before him, as if some portion of the general darkness, by some trick of
vision, had been rendered more compact and animate. Then he saw that it
was a cow, and immediately in the animal's wake appeared another blur.
This was the form of a woman. In a mellow, soothing tone she called out
to the cow, and Henley recognized the voice. It was Dixie Hart.
Instinctively, and shrinking even from her, he started on, but she
suddenly cried out:

"Don't go, Alfred, you haven't said howdy to me. You aren't going to
treat an old friend that way, I know."

Putting his valise down at his feet, he stood speechless while she
advanced to him, her hand extended from beneath the shawl which
enveloped her head and shoulders. "How are you?" She seemed to avoid
seeing his valise. "I'm powerful glad to see you back home."

He made an effort to speak, but