sublime paganism to her petty creed. With a
woman's withering contempt for her own art displayed in another woman,
she thought how she herself could have touched him with the peace that
the majesty of their woodland aisles--so unlike this pillared sham--had
taught her own passionate heart, had she but dared. Mingling with this
imperfect theology, she felt she could have proved to him also that
a brunette and a woman of her experience was better than an immature
blonde. She began to loathe herself for coming hither, and dreaded to
meet his face. Here a sudden thought struck her. What if he had not come
here? What if she had been mistaken? What if her rash interpretation
of his absence from the wood that night was simple madness? What if
he should return--if he had already returned? She rose to her feet,
whitening yet joyful with the thought. She could return at once; what
was the girl to her now? Yet there was time to satisfy herself if he
were at HER house. She had been told where it was; she could find it in
the dark; an open door or window would betray some sign or sound of
the occupants. She rose, replaced her hat over her eyes, knotted her
flaunting scarf around her throat, groped her way to the door, and
glided into the outer darkness.

CHAPTER VII

It was quite dark when Mr. Jack Brace stopped before Father Wynn's open
door. The windows were also invitingly open to the wayfarer, as were
the pastoral counsels of Father Wynn, delivered to some favored guest
within, in a tone of voice loud enough for a pulpit. Jack Brace paused.
The visitor was the convalescent sheriff, Jim Dunn, who had publicly
commemorated his recovery by making his first call upon the father
of his inamorata. The Reverend Mr. Wynn had been expatiating upon the
unremitting heat of a possible precursor of forest fires, and exhibiting
some catholic knowledge of the designs of a Deity in that regard, and
what should be the policy of the Legislature, when Mr. Brace concluded
to enter. Mr. Wynn and the wounded man, who occupied an arm-chair by
the window, were the only occupants of the room. But in spite of the
former's ostentatious greeting, Brace could see that his visit was
inopportune and unwelcome. The sheriff nodded a quick, impatient
recognition, which, had it not been accompanied by an anathema on the
heat, might have been taken as a personal insult. Neither spoke of
Miss Nellie, although it was patent to Brace that they were momentari