an influence for evil, an overwhelming
indictment against me of sin and guilt. All this I read in his eyes;
then Berna advanced to him with outstretched hand.

"How do you do? I've heard so much about you I feel as if I'd known you
long ago."

She was so winning, I could see he was quite taken aback. He took the
little white hand and looked down from his splendid height to the sweet
eyes that gazed into his. He bowed with icy politeness.

"I feel flattered, I assure you, that my brother should have mentioned
me to you."

Here he shot a dark look at me.

"Sit down again, Garry," I said. "Berna and I want to talk to you."

He complied, but with an ill grace. We all three sat down and a grave
constraint was upon us. Berna broke the silence.

"What sort of a trip have you had?"

He looked at her keenly. He saw a simple girl, shy and sweet, gazing at
him with a flattering interest.

"Oh, not so bad. Travelling sixty miles a day on a jolting stage gets
monotonous, though. The road-houses were pretty decent as a rule, but
some were vile. However, it's all new and interesting to me."

"You will stay with us for a time, won't you?"

He favoured me with another grim look.

"Well, that all depends--I haven't quite decided yet. I want to take
Athol here home with me."

"Home----" There was a pathetic catch in her voice. Her eyes went round
the little room that meant "home" to her.

"Yes, that will be nice," she faltered. Then, with a brave effort, she
broke into a lively conversation about the North. As she talked an
inspiration seemed to come to her. A light beaconed in her eyes. Her
face, fine as a cameo, became eager, rapt. She was telling him of the
magical summers, of the midnight sunsets, of the glorious largess of the
flowers, of the things that meant so much to her. She was wonderfully
animated. As I watched her I thought what a perfect little lady she was;
and I felt proud of her.

He was listening carefully, with evident interest. Gradually his look of
stern antagonism had given way to one of attention. Yet I could see he
was not listening so much to her as he was studying her. His intent gaze
never moved from her face.

Then I talked a while. The darkness had descended upon us, but the
embers in the open fireplace lighted the room with a rosy glow. I could
not see his eyes now, but I knew he was still watching us keenly. He
merely answered "yes" and "no" to our questions, and his voice was very
grav