voluntary movement to
push the photograph aside as she sprang up--a movement that, slight,
swift, and momentary as it was, yet did not pass unnoticed by the
visitor's eye. What, indeed, was ever known to escape the eagle eye of
Rick Jeffreys--better known in the neighbourhood of Eden City (which was
the flattering appellation bestowed by its builders on the nearest
settlement) as "Colonel Jeff"?

He was a tall man, of massive and powerful build, with somewhat harsh
features, black hair and beard just touched with grey, and a sallow
complexion sunburnt as brown as a berry. According to the prevalent
fashion in those latitudes, he wore truculent-looking boots up to his
knees, and a big sombrero hat slouched over his brow. There was a stern,
hard expression about his face, except when he smiled or looked at
Barbara Thorne. He did not look stern now, as she came quickly to meet
him, and welcomed him with a smile that was perhaps less bright, a blush
that was certainly deeper than usual. He spoke no word of greeting at
first, only looked at her as if her face were a magnet that drew and
held his eyes, then put his arm gently round her waist and bent his dark
head to her fair one, and kissed her with infinite tenderness.

Barbara yielded to his caress with the soft yielding of a woman who
loves. She did not belong to the class of those who, deceived by one,
distrust all thenceforth--who hate all men for one false one's sake. And
the time had come which she had never thought to see, when she--even
she, Barbara Thorne, the deserted, slighted, jilted, held up to the
insult of the world's pity--yet trusted, _loved_ again. For this man's
devotion had been balm to her bruised spirit--a healing balsam poured
into the still smarting wounds of her once crushed and outraged pride.

"All alone, my little lady?" he said, softly.

"Yes; Tom and Hatty went off this morning."

"Been lonesome?"

"Oh, no; I've had plenty to keep me brisk and busy."

Colonel Jeff cast a glance at the table, at the photograph which lay
there face upwards. "And who have you there?" he inquired, but not
suspiciously. Barbara conquered a foolish impulse to put out her hand to
intercept his as he went to pick up the portrait.

He glanced at it, first easily, then keenly, and his dark brows lowered
ominously. Colonel Jeff did not look like a person to offend--if one had
the choice.

"You are thinking of that blackguard still?" he said; and in his tone
ang