fear for it. She was in effect, doing in her
pitiful way, what she had always done, mirroring to her husband every
phase of himself which he presented to her. It was inert, impersonal,
and, in Elijah's present state of mind, not only passively, but actively
exasperating to him. It wholly lacked the power to soothe, much less to
inspire.

It was several days after Mrs. MacGregor had reached her conclusion that
Amy was impossible, before she began an aggressive campaign against her.

Elijah had been called to Ysleta and had gone alone. Mrs. MacGregor had
been invited to accompany him, but for personal reasons, had declined.
Her ostensible reason was that he had kept her so busy that she had had
no time in which to give herself up to the beauties of his place.

Poor innocent Amy! She and Mrs. MacGregor were seated on the verandah.
Through the trembling leaves, the tempered sunlight filtered and waltzed
to and fro, in dreamy, peaceful measures across the floor. The songs of
many birds, the flutter of their wings, the rustle of leaves, these
soothed and lulled the senses to a restful peace. There is nothing like
it in the world; nowhere but in California, newly awakened. The rank
growth of fruit and flower, a growth roused from its fiery sleep, now
striving in a day to make up for ages of helpless bondage.

Mrs. MacGregor was sitting with her hands folded in her lap, but her
thoughts were busy. At last she spoke.

"Are you happy in California?"

Amy looked up in unfeigned surprise.

"Why shouldn't I be?"

A trained diplomat could not have parried the thrust more deftly. Mrs.
MacGregor looked fixedly but calmly at Amy. Was that answer accidental
or designed?

"Because," she spoke deliberately, "in California there is not a single
thing to suggest your New England home."

"Except Elijah." Amy did not look up this time. She was taking her guest
and her words as a matter of course.

"Haven't you noticed any change in Elijah?"

"No-o." Amy's voice faltered, for she was truthful. She was wondering if
it was wicked to tell this lie. It did not occur to her to resent the
necessity for it.

"It would not be strange if he had changed. California has changed, is
changing. Those who come here must change,--for better or for worse."

"Elijah could not change for worse."

Amy's meaning was plain, but Mrs. MacGregor smiled at her words.

"I knew Elijah as a boy and as a young man. Then our paths diverged for
six years.