den uprush and consummation in the
mind of some obscure and long-continued process.

One moment, she saw the restless scene below her, the diamonds, the
uniforms, the blaze of electric light, the tapestries on the walls, the
handsome faces of men and women; the next, it had been wiped out; the
prairies unrolled before her; she beheld a green, boundless land invaded
by a mirage of sunny water; scattered through it, the white farms; above
it, a vast dome of sky, with summer clouds in glistening ranks climbing
the steep of blue; and at the horizon's edge, a line of snow-peaks. Her
soul leapt within her. It was as though she felt the freshness of the
prairie wind upon her cheek, while the call of that distant
land--Anderson's country--its simpler life, its undetermined fates, beat
through her heart.

And as she answered to it, there was no sense of renunciation. She was
denying no old affection, deserting no ancient loyalty. Old and new; she
seemed to be the child of both--gathering them both to her breast.

Yet, practically, what was going to happen to her, she did not know. She
did not say to herself, "It is all clear, and I am going to marry George
Anderson!" But what she knew at last was that there was no dull
hindrance in herself, no cowardice in her own will; she was ready, when
life and Anderson should call her.

At the foot of the stairs Mariette's gaunt and spectacled face broke in
upon her trance. He had just arrived as she was departing.

"You are off--so early?" he asked her, reproachfully.

"I want to see Philip before he settles for the night."

"Anderson, too, meant to look in upon your brother."

"Yes?" said Elizabeth vaguely, conscious of her own reddening, and of
Mariette's glance.

"You have heard his news?" He drew her a little apart into the shelter
of a stand of flowers. "We both go next week. You--Lady Merton--have
been our good angel--our providence. Has he been saying that to you? All
the same--_ma collegue_--I am disappointed in you!"

Elizabeth's eye wavered under his.

"We agreed, did we not--at Glacier--on what was to be done next to our
friend? Oh! don't dispute! I laid it down--and you accepted it. As for
me, I have done nothing but pursue that object ever since--in my own
way. And you, Madam?"

As he stood over her, a lean Don Quixotish figure, his long arms akimbo,
Elizabeth's fluttering laugh broke out.

"Inquisitor! Good night!"

"Good night--but--just a word! Anderson has