Then in agitation: "You're not going to----?"

The man nodded, but his smile had died out. "Yes. That's why I've come
along," he said seriously. "Is--is she well? Is she----?"

But Helen left him no time to finish his apprehensive inquiries. At
that moment she caught sight of a distant figure on the trail. It was
the figure of a big man--so big, and her woman's heart cried out in
love and thankfulness.

"Oh, look! It's Bill--my Bill! Here he comes. Oh, thank God."

Stanley Fyles flung a glance over his shoulder. Then without a word he
lifted Peter's reins. Then he seemed to glide off in the direction of
the setting sun.

As he went he drew a long sigh. He was wondering--wondering if all the
happiness in the world lay there, behind him, in the warm heart of the
girl who was waiting to embrace her lover.

* * * * *

Kate Seton was standing at the window of her parlor. Her back was
turned upon the room, upon the powerful, loose-limbed figure of
Stanley Fyles.

Her face was hidden, she wanted it to remain hidden--from him. She
felt that he must not see all that his sudden visit, without warning,
meant to her.

The man was near the center table. One knee was resting upon the hard,
tilted seat of a Windsor chair, and his folded arms leaned upon the
back of it. His eyes were full of a deep fire as he gazed upon the
woman's erect, graceful figure. A great longing was in him to seize
her, and crush her in arms that were ready to claim and hold her
against all the world.

All the atmosphere of his calling seemed to have fallen from him. He
stood there just a plain, strong man of no great eloquence, facing a
position in which he might well expect certain defeat, but from which
there was no thought of shrinking.

Silence had fallen since their first greeting. That painful silence
when realization of that which lies between them drives each to search
for a way to cross the barrier.

It was Kate who finally spoke. She moved slightly. It was a movement
which might have suggested many things, among them uncertainty of
mind, perhaps of decision. Her voice came low and gentle. But it was
full of a great weariness and regret, even of pain.

"Why--why did you come--now?" she asked plaintively. "It seems as
though I've lived through years in the last few weeks. I've tried to
forget so much. And now--you come here to remind me--to stir once more
the shadows which have nearly driven me crazy. Is