g nurse," said Jonathan. "She's taking care of a
child whose mother has deserted him. He is a good big boy now, but
Cyclona's taken care of that child ever since he come into the world
putty near," and he recited the story of Celia's heartlessness.

"What sort of man is the father?" queried Hugh with a manner of
exaggerated indifference.

"Seth? Why, Seth's one of the finest men you ever saw. And he's
good-looking, too. Sunburnt and tall and kind of lank, but
good-lookin'. He's got some crazy notion, Seth has, of buildin' a
Magic City on his claim some time or other, but aside from that there
ain't no fault to find with Seth. He's a mighty fine man."

* * * * *

On the plains all waited for letters. Walsingham was no exception to
the rule. Few came. He was too far away. Younger sons of impoverished
noblemen are sent to far-off places purposely to be forgotten. He
employed the intervals between such stray notes as he received in
studying Cyclona.

He wondered what his aristocratic sisters would do if they were
obliged to saddle their own ponies. He wondered what they would do if
they were obliged to wear such gowns as Cyclona wore. And yet Cyclona
was charming in those old gowns, blue and pink cotton in the summer
and a heavy blue one for winter wear.

Constantly in the open she possessed the beauty of perfect health. Her
brown cheeks glowed like old gold from the pulsing of rich blood. An
athletic poise of her shoulders and carriage of head added grace to
her beauty.

But her chief charm for the young Englishman, surfeited with the
affectation of English girls, lay in her natural simplicity.

Except for her association with Seth, whose innate culture could not
but communicate itself, Cyclona was totally untutored. She knew
nothing of coyness, caprice or mannerisms. Singleness of purpose and
unselfishness shone in her tranquil and steadfast gaze which Hugh was
fortunate enough now and then to encounter.

Walsingham found himself passing restless hours in the endeavor to
devise means by which he might turn her frank gaze upon himself. In
fancy he imaged her clothed in fitting garments, walking with that
free, beautiful, lithe and swinging gait into the splendor of his
mother's English home.

CHAPTER XII.

[Illustration]

As the boy, whom Seth called Charlie, grew older, Seth cast about in
his mind for some story to tell him which should serve to protect both
Celia an