and
merry voices strangely pleasant after her isolation. At times her
thoughts would wander back to the ice-bound canyon and the man who had
pitted himself against the thundering river in its gloomy depths.
Perhaps the very contrast between this scene of brightness and luxury
and the savage wilderness emphasized the self-abnegation he had shown.
She knew now that he had toiled beyond most men's strength, when he
might have rested, and casting away what would have insured him a life
of ease, had voluntarily chosen an almost hopeless struggle for her
sake. Few women had been wooed so, she reflected, and then she
endeavored to confine her attention to the play, for as yet, though
both proud and grateful, she could not admit that she had been won.

Presently the son of her hostess, who joined the party between the
acts, handed her a note. "I am sorry I could not get here before, but
found this waiting, and thought I'd better bring it along. I hope it's
not a summons of recall," he said.

Helen opened the envelope, and the hurriedly-written lines grew blurred
before her eyes as she read, "I am grieved to say that Geoffrey has
been seriously injured by an accident. The doctor has, however, some
hopes of his recovery, though he won't speak definitely yet. If you
can find an intelligent woman in Vancouver you could trust to help me
nurse him, send her along. Didn't write before because----"

"What is it? No bad news of your father, I hope," her hostess asked,
and the son, a fine type of the young Western citizen, noticed the
dismay in Helen's face as she answered:

"Nothing has happened to my father. His partner has been badly hurt.
I must return to-morrow, and, as it is a tiresome journey, if you will
excuse me, I would rather not sit out the play."

The young man noticed that Helen seemed to shiver, while her voice was
strained. He discreetly turned away his head, though he had seen
sufficient to show him that certain lately-renewed hopes were vain.

"Miss Savine has not been used to gayety of late, and I warned her she
must take it quietly, especially with that ride through the ranges
before her. This place is unsufferably hot, and you can trust me to
see her safe home, mother," he said.

Helen's grateful, "Thank you!" was reward enough, but it was in an
unenviable humor that the young man returned to the theater when she
sought refuge in her own room.

Solitude appeared a vital necessity, for at last Hel