r vigil
beside Macdonald's cot felt pity for Chadron's fall. She regretted, at
least, that he had not gone out of life more worthily.

Colonel Landcraft had gone up the river to carry a new message to the
homesteaders whose houses lay in ashes. He had ridden to tell them
that they could build in security and live in peace. The surgeon had
returned to the post, but was coming again tomorrow. Behind him he had
left the happy assurance that Macdonald would live.

Macdonald himself had added his own brave word to bear out the
doctor's prediction, as far as Frances would permit him to speak. That
was not above ten words, whispered into her ear, inclined low to hear.
When he attempted to go beyond that, soft warm fingers made a latch
upon his lips.

Mrs. Chadron came down a little after dark, and whispered at the door.
Macdonald was sleeping, and Frances went softly to tell her.

"Nola's askin' for you," Mrs. Chadron told her, "she's all heartbroke
and moanin' in her bed. If you'll go to her, and comfort her a little,
honey, I'll take as good care of him as if he was my own."

Frances was touched by the appeal for sympathy. She could picture
Nola, little fashioned by nature or her life's experiences to bear
grief, shuddering and sobbing alone in the dark, and her heart went
out to her in all its generosity and large forgivingness.

Nola's room was dark for all except the night sky at her window.
Frances stood a moment in her door, listening, believing from the
silence that she must have gone to sleep.

"Nola," she whispered, softly.

A little shivering sob was the answer. Frances went in, and closed the
door. Nola was lying face downward on her pillow, like a child, and
Frances found on putting out her comforting hand that the fickle
little lady's bolster was wet with tears. She sat on the bedside and
tried gently to turn Nola's face toward her. That brought on a storm
of tears and moanings, and agonized burrowing of her face into the
pillow.

"Oh, I feel so mean and wicked!" she cried. "If I hadn't been so
deceitful and treacherous and--and--and everything, maybe all this
sorrow wouldn't have come to us!"

Frances said nothing. She had found one hot hand, tear-wet from lying
under Nola's cheek, and this she held tenderly, feeling it best to let
the tears of penitence purge the sufferer's soul in their world-old
way. After a time Nola became quieter. She shifted in the bed, and
moved over to give Frances more roo