figure seemed to stiffen, and, wheeling round, she faced him
with blazing eyes.

"The cowards!" she cried. "To abandon a man to starvation! What are
they made of to do such a barbarous thing!"

"We must not judge them unheard," Stephen ventured. "Their search may
have been exhaustive--they may have risked their own lives gladly--and
you know," he added, gently, "that beyond a certain time it would have
been useless from the standpoint of saving life."

"It was inhuman to sail away and leave him," she went on, beating her
hands together in a sort of rage. "How can you defend them! You, who
sent him off on this horrible journey--how can you sleep in your bed
when you know Simeon in perishing by inches! I should think you would
be on your way now--this moment--to search for him! Oh, do
something--don't just accept it in this awful way. Haven't you any
pity?" Unconsciously she laid her hand on his shoulder, as if she
would push him from the room.

Stephen bore her reproaches with a meekness that exasperated her.

"Are there no cables to Magellan?" she asked. "There must be somebody
there who for money would do your bidding. Don't waste time," she
answered, stamping her foot.

Stephen kept his temper. Perhaps he was shrewd enough to see that it
was pity rather than love that gave the fierceness to her mood. It was
the frenzy of a tender-hearted woman at hearing of an act of cruelty
rather than the agony of one who suffers a personal bereavement.

"Deena," he said, not even knowing he had used her name, "do you
really want me to go on this hopeless errand? Think of its utter
uselessness--the time that has elapsed, the impossibility of
penetrating into such a country in the advancing winter. It is the
first of February, and I could not get there before March; it would be
already their autumn. By this time he has either reached help or he is
beyond it."

At the beginning of his speech Deena's pale face flushed, but as he
went on setting forth the obstacles to his going she seemed to harden
in her scorn.

"Oh, yes," she sneered. "Let him die! It is cold in Patagonia for a
gently nurtured person like Mr. French. Simeon is poor in friends--he
only had one besides his wife, and that one is a fair-weather friend.
But I'll go--I am not afraid of privation. I'll entreat the Argentine
Government for help--I'll make friends with the Indians--I'll----"

"Hush," he said, "you have said enough--I will go."

Having gained her