e last seven months must have been heart-breaking to those
who had not seen her since that dreadful night of tragedy. But her
spirit was unimpaired. There were her two children left, and a
merciful Providence had bestowed upon her a world of maternal devotion.
For all her grief, she had not been entirely robbed of that which made
life possible. Her husband lived again in the children he had blessed
her with.

Had she so chosen she might have severed herself forever from the life
which had so deeply wounded her. Her fortune made it possible to seek
comfort in the heart of the world's great civilization. But the
thought of it never entered her simple head. She was a born housewife.
The love of her home, and its care, was part of her. That home which
had yielded her her greatest joys and her greatest trial.

Sometimes the thought would obtrude that Jessie deserved something more
than the drear life of the northland. But the girl herself dispelled
these thoughts. Like her mother, she had no desire beyond the home she
had always known.

When Jessie hurried into the spotless kitchen her mother glanced
quickly up from her cook-stove.

"What is it?" she demanded, at the sight of the eager eyes and parted
lips. "You're----" She broke off with a smile. "There, child," she
added, "you don't need to tell it. Your face does that. John Kars has
come up the river."

The girl flushed scarlet. Her eyes were horrified.

"Why, mother," she cried dismayed, "am I so easy to read? Can--can
anybody read me like--you can?"

The mother's eyes were very tender.

"I don't believe John Kars can anyway," she said reassuringly. "You
see, he's a man. Is he coming along over?"

Jessie's relief was as obvious as her momentary dismay. The flush of
shame faded from her pretty cheeks. Her eyes were again dancing with
delight.

"Why, sure, mother," she cried. "He's coming right over--after they've
fixed things with Father Jose. I don't think they'll be to supper.
Dr. Bill's with him, of course. And say, aren't they just two dears?
To see them together, and hear their fool talk, you'd think them two
kids instead of two of the big men of the country. It must be good to
keep a heart so young all the time. I think, mother, they must be good
men. Real good men. I don't mean like Father Jose. But the sort who
do things square because they like square living. I--I wish they lived
here all the time. I--I don't know which