and he was still smiling when she
raised her head from the arm of the chair where she had laid it.

"I'm sorry, Zebedee. I'm better now. I'm--all right."

"Wipe your eyes, Best of all. We're going to have some tea. Can you look
like some one with a--with a nervous breakdown?"

"Quite easily. Isn't that just what I have had?"

Mary was defter than Eliza and apparently less curious, and while she
came and went they talked, like the outfitter and his friend, about the
crops; but when she had gone Zebedee moved the table to the side of
Helen's chair, so that, as long ago, no part of her should be concealed.

"Yes," he said, looking down, "but I like you better in your grey
frocks."

"Do you? Do you? I'm glad," she said, but she did not tell him why. Her
eyes were shining, and he found her no less beautiful for their reddened
rims. "You are the most wonderful person in the world," she said. "It
was unkind of me to come, wasn't it?"

"No, dear. Nothing is unkind when you do it."

"But it was, Zebedee. Because I'm going back, after all."

"I knew you would."

"Did you? I must, you know."

"Yes," he said, "I know. Helen, that girl--Daniel's in love with her."

"Oh, poor Miriam! Another renegade! But I'm not jealous any more, so
don't explain."

"But I want to tell you about her. He pursues and she wearies of him.
I'm afraid he's a dreadful bore."

"But that's no reason why you should take her arm."

"Did I take it? I like her. I wish she would marry Daniel, but he is
instructive in his love-making. He has no perceptions. I'm doing my best
for him, but he won't take my advice. Yes, I like her, but I shall never
love any one but you."

"Oh, no, you couldn't really. But see what I have had to do!" Her eyes
were tired with crying. "And have to do," she added in a lower tone. "It
makes one think anything might happen. One loses faith. But now, here
with you, I could laugh at having doubted. Yes, I can laugh at that, and
more. That's the best of crying. It makes one laugh afterwards and see
clearly. I can be amused at my struggles now and see how small they
were."

"But what of mine?" he asked.

"I meant yours, too. We are not separate. No. Even now that I--that I
have a little love for George. He's rather like a baby, Zebedee. And he
doesn't come between. Be sure of that; always, always!"

"Dearest, Loveliest, if you will stay with me--Well, I'm here when you
need me, and you know that."

"Yes." She looked