"Wal, child, I--I didn't mean to--to make you cry," said the old man,
feelingly, and he averted his troubled gaze. "Never mind what I said.
I'm an old meddler. I reckon nothin' I could do or say would ever
change what's goin' to happen. If only you wasn't a girl! ... Thar I
go ag'in. Ellen, face your future an' fight your way. All youngsters
hev to do thet. An' it's the right kind of fight thet makes the right
kind of man or woman. Only you must be sure to find yourself. An' by
thet I mean to find the real, true, honest-to-God best in you an' stick
to it an' die fightin' for it. You're a young woman, almost, an' a
blamed handsome one. Which means you'll hev more trouble an' a harder
fight. This country ain't easy on a woman when once slander has marked
her.

"What do I care for the talk down in that Basin?" returned Ellen. "I
know they think I'm a hussy. I've let them think it. I've helped them
to."

"You're wrong, child," said Sprague, earnestly. "Pride an' temper! You
must never let anyone think bad of you, much less help them to."

"I hate everybody down there," cried Ellen, passionately. "I hate them
so I'd glory in their thinkin' me bad.... My mother belonged to the
best blood in Texas. I am her daughter. I know WHO AND WHAT I AM.
That uplifts me whenever I meet the sneaky, sly suspicions of these
Basin people. It shows me the difference between them and me. That's
what I glory in."

"Ellen, you're a wild, headstrong child," rejoined the old man, in
severe tones. "Word has been passed ag'in' your good name--your
honor.... An' hevn't you given cause fer thet?"

Ellen felt her face blanch and all her blood rush back to her heart in
sickening force. The shock of his words was like a stab from a cold
blade. If their meaning and the stem, just light of the old man's
glance did not kill her pride and vanity they surely killed her
girlishness. She stood mute, staring at him, with her brown, trembling
hands stealing up toward her bosom, as if to ward off another and a
mortal blow.

"Ellen!" burst out Sprague, hoarsely. "You mistook me. Aw, I didn't
mean--what you think, I swear.... Ellen, I'm old an' blunt. I ain't
used to wimmen. But I've love for you, child, an' respect, jest the
same as if you was my own.... An' I KNOW you're good.... Forgive me....
I meant only hevn't you been, say, sort of--careless?"

"Care-less?" queried Ellen, bitterly and low.

"An' powerful thoughtless an'--an