he had stood with the snowstorm beating on his face. He
resolved to trace step by step the path he had taken that night,
and to taste again the bliss of which he had drunk so deep. And all
the while, as he rode down the gorge, underneath the rapture of
remembering, he was conscious of an exquisite pain. But he would
go through with it. He would not allow the pain to spoil his day,
his last day near her. Down by the running water, as on that night,
underneath and through the crowding trees, out to where the gorge
widened into the valley, he rode. When hark! He paused. Was that
Queen's bay? Surely it was. "A wolf?" he thought. "No, there are
none left in the glen." He shrank from meeting any one that
afternoon. He waited to hear again that deep, soft trumpet note,
and strained his ear for voices. But all was still except for the
falling of a ripe leaf now and then through the trees. He hated
to give up the afternoon he had planned.

He rode on. He reached the more open timber. He remembered that
it was here he had first caught the sound of voices behind that
blinding drift. Through the poplars he pressed his horse. It was
at this very spot that, through an opening in the storm, he had
first caught sight--what! His heart stood still, and then leaped
into his throat. There, on the very spot where he had seen her
that night, she stood again to-day! Was it a vision of his fond
imagination? He passed his hand over his eyes. No, she was there
still! standing among the golden poplars, the sunlight falling
all around her. With all his boyhood's frenzy in his heart, he
gazed at her till she turned and looked toward him. A moment
more, with his spurs into his horse's side, he crashed through
the scrub and was at her side.

"You! you!" he cried, in the old cry. "Marjorie! Marjorie!"

Once more he had her in his arms. Once more he was kissing her
face, her eyes, her lips. Once more she was crying, "Oh, Kalman!
Stop! You must stop! You must stop!" And then, as before, she laid
her head upon his breast, sobbing, "When I saw the dogs I feared
you would come, but I could not run away. Oh, you must stop! Oh,
I am so happy!" And then he put her from him and looked at her.

"Marjorie," he said, "tell me it is no dream, that it is you, that
you are mine! Yes," he shouted aloud, "do you hear me? You are mine!
Before Heaven I say it! No man, nothing shall take you from me!"

"Hush, Kalman!" she cried, coming to him and laying her hand up