y was, walked the fine thing I would
be. I _thought_ myself straight and strong and clean. Lord! how it hurt
sometimes; but I grew, after a time, into something approaching the ideal
going on before me, thinking high and strong thoughts, forgetting the
meannesses and aches--do you understand?"

This was a fairy story to the listener. Rigid and spellbound she replied:

"Yes. And that's what I've been doing--and nobody knew. I've just been
working hard for that _me_ of _me_ that I always see. I don't care what
I have to suffer, but--" the throbbing words paused--"I'm going to know
what--it is all about!"

"It?" Again Travers was bewildered and bound.

"Yes. Life and me and what we mean. I'm not going to stay here; when the
lure of the States gets me I'm--going!"

Things were getting too tense, and Travers yielded to a nervous impulse
to laugh again. This brought a frown to Priscilla's brow.

"Forgive me!" he pleaded. "And now see here, little pagan, let us make
a compact. Let us keep our ideals; don't let anything take them from us.
Is it a go?"

He stretched his hand out, and the small, brown one lay frankly in it.

"And we'll come here and--and worship before that fiend, just you and I?
And we won't ever tell?"

Priscilla nodded.

"And now will you dance once more, just once?"

The girl bounded from the rock, and before the bow struck the strings she
was poised and ready. Then it was on again, that strange, wild game. The
notes rang clear and true, and as true tripped the twinkling feet. With
head bent and eyes riveted on the graceful form, Travers urged her on by
word and laugh, and he did not heed a shadow which fell across the
sunlighted, open space, until Priscilla stopped short, and a deep voice
trembling with emotion roared one word:

"You!"

There stood Nathaniel Glenn, his face twitching with anger and something
akin to fear. How much he had heard no one could tell, but he had heard
and seen enough to arouse alarm and suspicion. In his hand was a long
lash whip, and, as Priscilla did not move, he raised it aloft and sent it
snapping around the rigid figure.

It did not touch her, but the act called forth all the resentment and
fierce indignation of the young fellow who looked on.

"Stop!" he shouted. Then, because he sought for words to comfort and
could think of no others, he said to Priscilla, "Don't let them kill your
ideal; hold to it in spite of everything!"

"Yes," the words came slowly