ng, he found that his glance was leaving the
headstone, was turning from the grave. Not only this, but his whole
body was following the direction of his eyes. Before he knew it, he was
standing with his back to Angele's grave, was facing the north, facing
the line of pear trees and the little valley where the Seed ranch lay.
At first, he thought this was because he had allowed his will to weaken,
the concentrated power of his mind to grow slack. And once more turning
toward the grave, he banded all his thoughts together in a consummate
effort, his teeth grinding together, his hands pressed to his forehead.
He forced himself to the notion that Angele was alive, and to this
creature of his imagination he addressed himself:

"Angele!" he cried in a low voice; "Angele, I am calling you--do you
hear? Come to me--come to me now, now."

Instead of the Answer he demanded, that inexplicable counter-influence
cut across the current of his thought. Strive as he would against it,
he must veer to the north, toward the pear trees. Obeying it, he turned,
and, still wondering, took a step in that direction, then another and
another. The next moment he came abruptly to himself, in the black
shadow of the pear trees themselves, and, opening his eyes, found
himself looking off over the Seed ranch, toward the little house in the
centre where Angele had once lived.

Perplexed, he returned to the grave, once more calling upon the
resources of his will, and abruptly, so soon as these reached a certain
point, the same cross-current set in. He could no longer keep his eyes
upon the headstone, could no longer think of the grave and what it held.
He must face the north; he must be drawn toward the pear trees, and
there left standing in their shadow, looking out aimlessly over the Seed
ranch, wondering, bewildered. Farther than this the influence never
drew him, but up to this point--the line of pear trees--it was not to be
resisted.

For a time the peculiarity of the affair was of more interest to Vanamee
than even his own distress of spirit, and once or twice he repeated the
attempt, almost experimentally, and invariably with the same result: so
soon as he seemed to hold Angele in the grip of his mind, he was moved
to turn about toward the north, and hurry toward the pear trees on the
crest of the hill that over-looked the little valley.

But Vanamee's unhappiness was too keen this night for him to dwell long
upon the vagaries of his mind.