. I was doing that,
but my decision had not been absolute. There seemed no use to go on
farther until I was absolutely sure of myself. I received a clear
warning thought that such work as seemed haunting and driving me could
never be carried out in the mood under which I labored. I hung on to
that thought. Several times I slowed up, then stopped, only to tramp on
again.

At length, as I mounted a low ridge, Linrock lay bright and green before
me, not faraway, and the sight was a conclusive check. There were
mesquites on the ridge, and I sought the shade beneath them. It was the
noon hour, with hot, glary sun and no wind. Here I had to have out my
fight. If ever in my varied life of exciting adventure I strove to
think, to understand myself, to see through difficulties, I assuredly
strove then. I was utterly unlike myself; I could not bring the old self
back; I was not the same man I once had been. But I could understand
why. It was because of Sally Langdon, the gay and roguish girl who had
bewitched me, the girl whom love had made a woman--the kind of woman
meant to make life beautiful for me.

I saw her changing through all those weeks, holding many of the old
traits and graces, acquiring new character of mind and body, to become
what I had just fled from--a woman sweet, fair, loyal, loving,
passionate.

Temptation assailed me. To have her to-morrow--my wife! She had said it.
Just twenty-four little hours, and she would be mine--the only woman I
had ever really coveted, the only one who had ever found the good in me.
The thought was alluring. I followed it out, a long, happy stage-ride
back to Austin, and then by train to her home where, as she had said,
the oranges grew and the trees waved with streamers of gray moss and the
mocking-birds made melody. I pictured that home. I wondered that long
before I had not associated wealth and luxury with her family. Always I
had owned a weakness for plantations, for the agricultural life with its
open air and freedom from towns.

I saw myself riding through the cotton and rice and cane, home to the
stately old mansion, where long-eared hounds bayed me welcome and a
woman looked for me and met me with happy and beautiful smiles. There
might--there _would_ be children. And something new, strange,
confounding with its emotion, came to life deep in my heart. There would
be children! Sally their mother; I their father! The kind of life a
lonely Ranger always yearned for and neve