"But, the letters--you never took them out--never read them?" The man
was surprised at the intense eagerness of her tone.

"No," he answered, "I never read them. You see, it got to be a sort of
game with me. It was a big game that I played against myself, and when
I was sure I had won I was going to open the letters."

He paused and looked into the girl's eyes. "And then, one day I
happened to read in an old newspaper the account of your engagement to
St. Ledger. I almost lost the game, then--but I didn't. And--after
that--the letters never were the same, and I--I just played the game to
_win_."

There were tears in the girl's eyes, and she clutched at his hand.

"But the bonds?" she cried. The man regarded her with a puzzled look.

"Bonds--bonds--what bonds?"

"Why, the bonds you were to have delivered to Strang, Liebhardt & Co.
Securities, or something."

Bill stared uncomprehendingly, then suddenly he laughed.

"Oh! Those! Why, I handed them over to father. You see, Dad handed it
to me pretty straight that morning. In fact, he--er--fired me. So I
gave him the bonds and----"

The sentence was never finished. With a glad cry the girl flung herself
upon him, and to his unutterable wonder sobbed and sobbed.

CHAPTER XLV

SNOW-BOUND

Late in the following afternoon Ethel awoke and lay for a long time
revelling in her new-found happiness, and thinking of the big man who
had come once more into her life, this time bringing her only gladness
and the joy of an infinite love.

Her heart glowed with pride as she thought of the strength and the fine
courage of him, and she flushed as she wondered how, even with the
bonds in her hands, she could have doubted his innocence. Ah, well, she
would never doubt him again.

She smiled fondly, but the smile slowly faded, for in her mind at that
moment was a doubt--a vague, elusive doubt, that rested upon the
slender fabric of a half-breed's fireside tale.

Somewhere in the wild country was another girl--a girl who was
beautiful and who loved this man--_her_ man.

In the small hours of the morning as they talked he had not mentioned
this girl, and Ethel forbore to question him, hoping that he would tell
her of his own accord. But whether or not he purposely avoided the
subject she did not know.

She believed in him--believed in his great love for her, in his
absolute honesty and the new-found strength in him. Yet, hovering like
a specter, intangible, elusive,