er he has come to hate all women. And when I
started for the gate, even now, he warned me against you."

The clever mind of the gambler opened to her and she smiled at the
trick.

"Yes, it is a thing for laughter," said David happily. "I came with a
mind armed for trouble--and I find you, whom I could break between my
hands."

He turned, casting out his arms.

"What harm have I received from you?"

They had reached the head of the bridge, and even as David turned a
changing gust carried to them a chorus of men's voices. David drew rein.

"There is a death," he said, "in my household."

_CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO_

The singing took on body and form as the pitch rose.

"There is a death," repeated David. "Abraham is dead, the oldest and the
wisest of my servants. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away. Glory
to His name!"

Ruth was touched to the heart.

"I am sorry," she said simply.

"Let us rejoice, rather, for Abraham is happy. His soul is reborn in a
young body. Do you not hear them singing? Let us ride on."

He kept his head high and a stereotyped smile on his lips as the horses
sprang into a gallop--that breath-taking gallop which made the spirit of
the girl leap; but she saw his breast raise once or twice with a sigh.
It was the stoicism of an Indian, she felt, and like an Indian's was the
bronze-brown skin and the long hair blowing in the wind. The lake was
beside them now, and dense forest beyond opening into pleasant meadows.
She was being carried back into a primitive time of which the type was
the man beside her. Riding without a saddle his body gave to the swing
of the gallop, and she was more conscious than ever of physical
strength.

But now the hoofs beat softly on the lawn terraces, and in a moment they
had stopped before the house where the death had been. She knew at once.
The empty arch into the patio of the servants' house was eloquent, in
some manner, of the life that had departed. Before it was the group of
singers, all standing quiet, as though their own music had silenced
them, or perhaps preparing to sing again. Connor had described the old
servant, but she was not prepared for these straight, withered bodies,
these bony, masklike faces, and the white heads.

All in an instant they seemed to see her, and a flash of pleasure went
from face to face. They stirred, they came toward her with glad murmurs,
all except one, the oldest of them all, who remained aloof with his arms