tching her mountain. It
was a relief to her to find that the minister occupied a room on the
first floor in a kind of ell on the opposite side of the house from her
own room and her mountain. He had not been visible that afternoon, and
with Captain by her side and Bud on the front-door step reading _The Sky
Pilot_ she felt comparatively safe. She had read to Bud for an hour and
a half, and he was thoroughly interested in the story; but she was sure
he would keep the minister away at all costs. As for Captain, he and the
minister were sworn enemies by this time. He growled every time West
came near or spoke to her.

She made a picture standing with her hand on Captain's shaggy, noble
head, the lace of her sleeve falling back from the white arm, her other
hand raised to shade her face as she looked away to the glorified
mountain, a slim, white figure looking wistfully off at the sunset. The
young man took off his hat and rode his horse more softly, as if in the
presence of the holy.

The dog lifted one ear, and a tremor passed through his frame as the
rider drew near; otherwise he did not stir from his position; but it was
enough. The girl turned, on the alert at once, and met him with a smile,
and the young man looked at her as if an angel had deigned to smile upon
him. There was a humility in his fine face that sat well with the
courage written there, and smoothed away all hardness for the time, so
that the girl, looking at him in the light of the revelations of the
morning, could hardly believe it had been true, yet an inner fineness of
perception taught her that it was.

The young man dismounted and left his horse standing quietly by the
roadside. He would not stay, he said, yet lingered by her side, talking
for a few minutes, watching the sunset and pointing out its changes.

She gave him the little package for Mom Wallis. There was a simple lace
collar in a little white box, and a tiny leather-bound book done in
russet suede with gold lettering.

"Tell her to wear the collar and think of me whenever she dresses up."

"I'm afraid that'll never be, then," said the young man, with a pitying
smile. "Mom Wallis never dresses up."

"Tell her I said she must dress up evenings for supper, and I'll make
her another one to change with that and bring it when I come."

He smiled upon her again, that wondering, almost worshipful smile, as if
he wondered if she were real, after all, so different did she seem from
his ide