him the logical steps, and so could hardly be expected to accept the
conclusion out-of-hand.

Thorpe wished to give his sister the best education possible in the
circumstances. She was now nearly eighteen years old. He knew likewise
that he would probably experience a great deal of difficulty in finding
another family which would afford the young girl quite the same equality
coupled with so few disadvantages. Admitted that its level of intellect
and taste was not high, Mrs. Renwick was on the whole a good influence.
Helen had not in the least the position of servant, but of a daughter.
She helped around the house; and in return she was fed, lodged and
clothed for nothing.

So though the money might have enabled Helen to live independently in a
modest way for a year or so, Thorpe preferred that she remain where she
was. His game was too much a game of chance. He might find himself at
the end of the year without further means. Above all things he wished
to assure Helen's material safety until such time as he should be quite
certain of himself.

In pursuance of this idea he had gradually evolved what seemed to him an
excellent plan. He had already perfected it by correspondence with Mrs.
Renwick. It was, briefly, this: he, Thorpe, would at once hire a servant
girl, who would make anything but supervision unnecessary in so small a
household. The remainder of the money he had already paid for a year's
tuition in the Seminary of the town. Thus Helen gained her leisure
and an opportunity for study; and still retained her home in case of
reverse.

Thorpe found his sister already a young lady. After the first delight of
meeting had passed, they sat side by side on the haircloth sofa and took
stock of each other.

Helen had developed from the school child to the woman. She was a
handsome girl, possessed of a slender, well-rounded form, deep hazel
eyes with the level gaze of her brother, a clean-cut patrician face,
and a thorough-bred neatness of carriage that advertised her good blood.
Altogether a figure rather aloof, a face rather impassive; but with the
possibility of passion and emotion, and a will to back them.

"Oh, but you're tanned and--and BIG!" she cried, kissing her brother.
"You've had such a strange winter, haven't you?"

"Yes," he replied absently.

Another man would have struck her young imagination with the wild, free
thrill of the wilderness. Thus he would have gained her sympathy and
understanding. Th