and her hand half shading her
eyes. The sun fell upon her brown hair, changing its chestnut to a
ruddy bronze, vital and warm, with a look as though it breathed a
fragrance of its own. A little vagrant lock blew down at the temple,
and Franklin yearned, as he always did when he saw this small truant,
to stroke it back into its place. The sun and the open air had kissed
pink into the cheek underneath the healthy brown. The curve of the
girl's chin was full and firm. Her tall figure had all the grace of a
normal being. Her face, sweet and serious, showed the symmetry of
perfect and well-balanced faculties. She stood, as natural and as
beautiful, as fit and seemly as the antelope upon the hill, as well
poised and sure, her head as high and free, her hold upon life
apparently as confident. The vision of her standing there caused
Franklin to thrill and flush. Unconsciously he drew near to her, too
absorbed to notice the one visible token of a possible success; for, as
he approached, hat in hand, the girl drew back as though she feared.

There was something not easily to be denied in this tall man, his
figure still military in its self-respect of carriage, with the broad
shoulders, the compact trunk, the hard jaw, and the straight blue eye
of the man of deeds. The loose Western dress, which so illy became any
but a manly figure, sat carelessly but well upon him. He looked so fit
and manly, so clean of heart, and so direct of purpose as he came on
now in this forlorn hope that Mary Ellen felt a shiver of
self-distrust. She stepped back, calling on all the familiar spirits
of the past. Her heart stopped, resuming at double speed. It seemed
as though a thrill of tingling warmth came from somewhere in the
air--this time, this day, this hour, this man, so imperative, this new
land, this new world into which she had come from that of her earlier
years! She was yet so young! Could there be something unknown, some
sweetness yet unsounded? Could there be that rest and content which,
strive as she might, were still missing from her life? Could there be
this--and honour?

Mary Ellen fled, and in her room sat down, staring in a sudden panic.
She needed to search out a certain faded picture. It was almost with a
sob that she noted the thin shoulders, the unformed jaw, the eye
betokening pride rather than vigour, the brow indicative of petulance
as much as sternness. Mary Ellen laid the picture to her cheek, saying
ag