hat had impressed him with this
unwonted feeling of doubt and weariness. At last he heard a movement in
the room and rose on his elbow. Rivers was awake and was peering out at
the window.

Blanche replied to his words of greeting with a low murmur--"I feel very
weak."

She seemed calmer, also, and her eyes had lost something of their
tension of appeal.

Bailey looked at her closely, and his heart softened with pity. He
waited upon her and tried by his cheerful smiles to comfort her,
nevertheless.

They ate breakfast in silence, as if apprehending the struggle which was
still to come.

At last Rivers rose with abrupt resolution.

"Well, now, I'll bring the team around, and we'll get away."

"Wait a minute, Jim," Bailey said. "I want to say something to you."
There was a note of pleading in his voice. "Wait a little. I've been
thinking this thing over. I don't want you to go away feeling hard
toward me." His throat choked up and his eyes grew dim. "I don't want to
be hard on you, Jim. It's a mighty big question, and I'm not one to be
unjust, specially toward a woman. Of course, somebody's got to suffer,
but it hadn't ought to be the woman--I've made up my mind on that. Seems
like the woman always does get the worst of it, and I want you to think
of her. What is to become of her?"

Blanche turned toward him with a wondrous look--a look which made him
shiver with emotion. He looked down a moment, and his struggle to speak
made him seem very boyish and gentle.

"I can't exactly justify this trade, Jim, but I guess it all depends on
the _mother_. She ought to be happy anyway, whether you are or not; so
if she thinks she'd better go with you, why, I ain't got a word to
say."

Blanche gave a low cry, a cry such as no woman had ever uttered in his
presence, and fell upon her knees before him.

The cadence of her moan cut deep into his heart. He realized for the
first time some part of her suffering, her temptations. Her eyes shone
with a marvellous beauty. He was awed by the rapt expression of her
face.

"Don't do that," he stammered. "Please get up."

"You're so good!" she breathed.

"Oh no, I'm not. I don't know--I don't pretend to judge--that's all.
Yesterday I did, but now--well, I leave the whole business with you and
God. Please stand up."

She rose, but stood looking upon him with a fixed, devouring look. He
had never seen tears in her eyes before. She had been gay and sullen
and tense and sad, but n