f him? But the utterly unexpected encounter--for he was
there somewhere, in the glade, no doubt--swept away all that courage
she had found on Avalanche. She felt suddenly helpless, inert,
afraid; and before she could regain her self-possession, call back her
high resolve, the bushes at the roadside parted, and Philip stood
before her. He bore a great bouquet of columbines, their stems wrapped
in damp moss and leaves and tied securely with a string. At sight of
her he halted; and that look of annoyance she had seen him wear in the
road below his ranch house came again into his pale face. For some
seconds they regarded each other in silence.

"True," he said at length, with a smile that tortured her, "this is
not my side of the Ridge. I am the trespasser, even though this is
public domain. You have as much right here as I--more, since I said
the Ridge was the dividing line. So--"

He stepped quickly to her horse's side, pressed the great bunch of
pale-blue flowers into her limp but obedient hands, lifted his
battered hat, turned on his heel, walked directly to the trap, leaped
into the seat, and drove swiftly away. She watched him dully until he
was out of sight behind a bend in the road, among the trees; watched
the spot where he had disappeared until it became a blur to her aching
eyes. Then she looked slowly down at the flowers in her hands.
Columbines! Frail, lovely things, the fairest product, she had
thought, of nature's laboratory, reflecting the infinite, ineffable
blue of God's skies, delicate as the flower that had bloomed with such
wonderful, unexpected beauty in her own heart! How she could have
treasured them, wept over them, hugged them to her breast, if he had
given them to her in another way. Slowly her fingers relaxed. The
flowers fell into the dust of the road. She stared down, at them a
moment; and then, with a cry, leaped from her horse, picked them up
eagerly, clasped them to her breast, buried her face in them, and
watered them with her tears.

* * * * *

Seth said he guessed he would ride down to the post-office before
supper; yesterday was mail day; might be something. Marion was glad of
his departure, and to avoid Claire was not difficult, considering what
baths, and changing of linen, and brushing of hair they required after
their outing. Refreshed and rested, they had scarcely met before the
new-lighted fire at twilight when Seth returned, stamping v