it was a strange
thing. He raised his head and glanced around, passing his hand over
his brow like a man aroused from a delirium of dreams. Forces foreign
to his nature had been at work. He could not understand it--or himself.

Words came back to him out of his past--his own words--"a man must hold
up his own weight," and other words, "a man must help with his strength
a woman's weakness." He thought of his love with pity, with remorse.
He had never failed her, never put himself first, till now. What was
this thing he had thought of doing?

Jim stood erect and pulled himself together, lifting his head and
squaring his shoulders as a man does who is about to face an issue
fairly.

CHAPTER XXV.

Pocahontas was alone. The party had dispersed, one here, one there,
about their own concerns, filled with their own interests. They had
invited her to accompany them, even urged it; but she would not; she
was tired, she said, and would rest; but there was no rest for her.

The crisis of her life had come, and she was trying to face it.
Heretofore the fight had been unequal; the past had had the advantage
of sun and wind and field, the old influences had been potent because
they were present, had never been broken. Now she was in a measure
removed from them; the forces faced each other on neutral ground, the
final conflict was at hand.

What should she do? How should she decide? She was torn and swayed by
the conflict of emotions within her; the old fight was renewed with
added fierceness. Her heart yearned over Thorne, her love rose up and
upbraided her for hardness. He was so changed, he had suffered so, his
hair was growing gray, hard lines were deepening about his mouth, and
to his eyes had come an expression that wrung her heart--a cynical
hopelessness, a sullen gloom. Was this her work? Was she shutting out
hope from a life, thus making a screen of a scruple to keep sunlight
from a soul?

Unconsciously she was assuming the responsibility which he had thrust
upon her--was fitting the burden to her shoulders. She did not analyze
the position; did not see that he had been ruthless; that he had no
right to use such a weapon against her. She only saw that he suffered,
that he needed her, that she loved him.

What did it matter about herself? Her scruple might die--and if it
should not, she was strong enough to hold it down, to keep her foot on
its breast. Was her love so weak that it should shrink