crouched in the lowest depths of self-suspicion. The rising
storm seemed the approach of the remorseless judgment-day, the howl of
the wind, the voice of devils, exulting in her fall.

She did not trouble herself about her husband. At times she flamed out
in anger against his weakness, his business failures, his boyish
gullibility. Sometimes she pitied him, sometimes she hated him.

She watched Bailey furtively. The firm lines of his face, his sturdy
figure, and his frank, brusque manner were as familiar to her as the
face of Rivers, and almost as dear--but she could not speak!

At last she gave up all thought of speaking, and drew her shawl about
her with an air of final reserve. She resembled an old crone as she
crouched there.

Rivers returned soon and took off his overcoat without looking at
Bailey, who bustled about getting the supper, his resolute cheerfulness
once more aglow.

Rivers sat down beside Blanche. "It would be death to attempt Wheatland
to-night," he said. "I could make it all right, but it would be the end
of you."

Bailey could not hear the words she spoke in reply. "Supper's ready,"
said he. "We all have to eat, no matter what comes."

Something in his voice and manner affected Blanche deeply. She buried
her face in her hands and wept while Rivers sat helplessly looking at
her. She could not rise and walk before him yet. The shame of her sin
weighed her down.

Bailey poured some tea and gave it to Rivers.

"Take this to her while I toast her some bread."

She drank the tea but refused food, and Rivers sat down again still
wearing an air of defiance, though Bailey did not appear to notice it.
He ate a hearty supper, making a commonplace remark now and again.

Once he said, "We're in for a hard winter."

"It's hell on the squatters," Rivers replied, for want of other words.
"I don't know what they'll do. No money and no work for most of them.
They'll have to burn hay. If it hadn't been for the price on buffalo
bones, I guess some of them would starve."

Rising from the table, Bailey moved about doing up the work. He was very
thoughtful, and the constraint increased in tension.

The storm steadily increased. Its lashings of sleet grew each hour more
furious. The cabin did not reel, for it sat close in a socket of
sods--it endured in the rush of snow like a rock set in the swash of
savage seas. The icy dust came in around the stovepipe and fell in a
fine shower down upon Bailey's hands