is question at all."

An exceedingly pained expression came over Stephen's face, and Katrine
was quick enough to feel that from her words he judged her errors to be
other than they were. In a few words she might have cleared his mind
from the idea of her actual immorality, but she was too proud to stand
upon her own defence before him; besides, if her faults were not of that
class, he would want to know what they were, and in his eyes a girl that
gambled and drank and swore, and preferred the dance halls and variety
shows to the mission church any day, was quite bad enough; so she
concluded in her thoughts, "It doesn't matter if he is mixed."

Stephen at the moment was afraid to press her further, and did not know
quite how to treat her; but he was not wholly discouraged, and he
thought it best to retain the ground he already had.

"Well, I shall be in town in a few days," he said, "and I shall come to
see you as usual, mayn't I?"

"Of course," returned Katrine, and they did not speak again till they
were outside and she was mounted at the head of the trail.

What a morning it was! The crisp air was like a bath of sparkling
sunlight; the untrodden snow glittered everywhere. Far above the trail a
ridge of dark green pine broke against the pale azure of the sky.
Stephen leaned against the pony's side and gazed into the warm, lustrous
eyes.

"Good-bye, my darling--my own darling perhaps some day."

"I don't think so," she answered, with a mischievous smile, and set the
pony at a trot down the trail.

She had to pass Talbot's cabin on her way back, and as she approached
she saw him a little way up the creek surrounded by his men. She reined
in her horse to a walk as she passed, and contemplated him. His figure
always pleased and arrested her eyes--it had a certain height and
strength and grace that marked it out distinctly from others; and then
what an advantage it was, she thought, he had no religion and believed
in none of those things, and, in short, was quite as bad or worse than
she herself was. She walked her horse on slowly, thinking. Somehow it
seemed to her that life in his cabin would be far more piquant and
amusing than in Stephen's. Yet he neither drank nor gambled, and as for
the dance halls and theatre,--well, he had told her he liked dancing;
and what a waltz that had been they had had together! But life with
Stephen! He would be too good for her, and too stupid. She had a vague
sense that what she l