too simple, too confiding. Why should Mrs.
Lambert, at a first meeting, accidental and without explanation, ask
me to take thought of her daughter's future?" The fact that his
connection with an institution of learning gave him a sort of sanctity
in their eyes did not weigh with him. He was of those who take
professorships in the modern way--with levity, either real or assumed.

"I think, on the whole, I'd better keep out of this family
complication, whatever it may be," he concluded. "This absence of the
husband in the hills may be more significant than at present
appears--it may be a voluntary sequestration. I take the hint. I am
not seeking new responsibilities, and I don't care to act as adviser,
even to a pretty girl--especially _not_ to a pretty girl." And he
waved his hand in the manner of one declining a doubtful cigar.

But this slim young witch, with the scarlet lips and pleading gray
eyes, was not so easily banished. His inward eye dwelt upon her with
increasing joy, "How beautiful she was, as she stood there on that
bowlder! Perhaps she was posing? She is now at the very height of her
girlish charm. What an appeal she must make to the men of this
region--those exquisite lips--that pliant waist--that full bosom!
There is some antagonism between mother and daughter--something more
than appears on the surface. She is both sullen and hysterical. What a
pity!"

She continued to trouble him as he sat again after his evening meal on
the veranda of the hotel. He could hear the slow tramp of heavy boots
along the sidewalks beneath him, and the roar of the Colorow, softened
by distance, rose and fell like a drowsy tune. On the highest peaks
the after-glow still lingered, and from one of the little cottages
deep in the shadow across the stream a light appeared like a signal,
an invitation, and, the blood in him being young, accepted the lure.
He rose with the impulse. "I'm going! Why not? 'Tis a night for
adventure. There's no need of involving myself in any wise with their
future. I'm an outsider, and will take precious good care to stay so."
His face was impassive, but his heart was quick within him as he set
foot on the bridge. "Perhaps this is my Rubicon?" he said, and paused
with a moment's irresolution.

His doubt, his suspicion, instantly vanished as he re-entered the
pretty little sitting-room and faced the sweet-visaged mother, who
tacitly acknowledged her daughter as the cause of his coming by
saying: