ever, but he does not understand making
dessert, you know, Edward."

"That's true, and Miss Jane will excuse you, I am sure, for she and
I have been reviewing the principal features of pioneer-life, and she
professes herself rather in love with it than otherwise."

"It is all so fresh and enjoyable, despite its discomforts and
inconveniences," I said; "and need I quote a stronger argument in its
favor than yourself, my dear Ruth? You seem perfectly happy, and I
really cannot see why you should not be so."

She had her golden-haired little girl in one arm, and she laid the
other hand caressingly on her husband's shoulder, "There is none:
I _am_ happy," she said in a low, earnest tone; and then added
laughingly, "or I shall be as soon as Edward gets well of sciatica and
Wang-Ho recovers from his chills."

Mr. Denham begged us to go before him, and his wife led the way to the
dining-room.

"Poor fellow!" she whispered, "he suffers horribly when he moves, and
I tried to persuade him to have his dinner sent into the parlor, but
in honor of your presence he will come, and he doesn't want us to see
him wince and writhe under the effort."

Just as we entered the dining-room a young man came in by another
door, carrying a tray with dishes. I had seen plenty of Chinamen,
but this was not one, nor could I reconcile his appearance with the
position of a servant. He was tall, well-made, and his face, though
unnaturally pale, was decidedly good-looking. He wore a pair of coarse
gray pantaloons with a remarkable stripe down one leg, but had on a
beautifully clean and fine, white shirt fastened at the throat with a
diamond button. The weather was warm, and he was without coat or vest,
and had a sash of red knitted silk, such as Mexicans wear, round his
middle.

Ruth took the dishes from him and placed them on the table. "Please
tell Wang-Ho about the coffee, Lester," she said as he retired.

"Is that man a servant, Ruth?" I asked in an astonished whisper.

"No," she replied in the same low tone: "he is a murderer condemned
for life."

Mr. Denham hobbled in and slid down upon a seat. I appreciated his
gallant attention, but it was painful to see the effort it cost:
besides, much as I had seen, and familiar as I was becoming with
pioneer life, to be waited on at dinner by a young and handsome
murderer condemned to prison for life was a sensation new and
startling, and I was full of curiosity as to the nature of his crime
an