usness of the approach
of some one, and contemplated the canoe with a sense of placid
satisfaction.

The small craft was passing in the shadow of a great tree--stealing over
the dark, unruffled depth. A girl dressed in white, with a large
diaphanous white hat and a general air of brisk English daintiness, was
paddling slowly and with no great skill.

"A picture," said Steinmetz to himself with Teutonic deliberation. "Gott
im Himmel! what a pretty picture to make an old man young!"

Then his gray eyes opened suddenly and he rose to his feet.

"Coloss-a-al!" he muttered. He dragged from his head a lamentable old
straw hat and swept a courteous bow.

"Mademoiselle," he said, "ah, what happiness! After three years!"

Maggie stopped and looked at him with troubled eyes; all the color
slowly left her face.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. And there was something like fear
in her voice.

"No harm, mademoiselle, but good. I have come down from big game to
vermin. I have here a saloon rifle. I wait till a water-rat comes, and
then I shoot him."

The canoe had drifted closer to the land, the paddle trailing in the
water.

"You are looking at my white hairs," he went on, in a sudden need of
conversation. "Please bring your boat a little nearer."

The paddle twisted lazily in the water like a fish's tail.

"Hold tight," he said, reaching down.

With a little laugh he lifted the canoe and its occupant far up on to
the bank.

"Despite my white hairs," he said, with a tap of both hands on his broad
chest.

"I attach no importance to them," she answered, taking his proffered
hand and stepping over the light bulwark. "I have gray ones myself. I am
getting old too."

"How old?" he asked, looking down at her with his old bluntness.

"Twenty-eight."

"Ah, they are summers," he said; "mine have turned to winters. Will you
sit here where I was sitting? See, I will spread this rug for your white
dress."

Maggie paused, looking through the trees toward the sinking sun. The
light fell on her face and showed one or two lines which had not been
there before. It showed a patient tenderness in the steady eyes which
had always been there--which Catrina had noticed in the stormy days that
were past.

"I cannot stay long," she replied. "I am with the Faneaux at Brandon for
a few days. They dine at seven."

"Ah! her ladyship is a good friend of mine. You remember her charity
ball in town, when it was settled that you