ew
himself, he was honest with himself. That day when he first discovered
Will's treachery Peter had saved him.

Now everything seemed somehow different. His thoughts were frequently
desperate enough, but, whereas a year ago he would have cried out
against Heaven, against everything in Heaven or on earth, now he
wanted to set his back to the wall and fight. He felt it in him to
fight, let the odds be what they might. And he knew that he owed this
new spirit to the big-hearted Peter, who had once shown him how wrong
he was.

But though less acknowledged, there was another influence at work
within him. Eve was there alone, far more alone than if she had never
married Will. He only guessed what her feelings must be, for she was
still in doubt as to Will's safety. Yes, he would at least have the
privilege of carrying her the glad tidings.

He laughed bitterly. He could not help it. Yes, she would be the
happier for his tidings, and with that he must be content. Now, no one
would ever know. Her disgrace would be hidden, and she would be able
to live on quietly in the village with her young brother until such
time as she felt it safe to join her husband.

Try as he would to appreciate the comparative happiness he was
conveying to the woman, he felt the sharp pricks of the thorny burden
he was bearing. He smiled in the growing darkness, and told himself
that there was no disaster that brought happiness to any one but must
be counted as a good work.

He could see the twinkling lights of the village less than half a mile
ahead, and he glanced over them carefully. There was the saloon. Who
could mistake it, with its flamboyant brilliance against the lesser
twinkle of the smaller houses? His eyes searched for the lights of
Eve's home. He could not see them. Possibly she was in her kitchen,
that snug little room, where, up to a year ago, he had many a time
taken tea with her. Yes, it would be about her supper-time. He looked
back at the western sky to verify the hour. The last faint sheen of
sunset was slipping away into the soft velvet of night.

He thought for a moment as to his best course. Should he wait until
morning to bear his tidings to her? No, that would leave her
unnecessary time for worry and anxiety. Best go to her to-night--at
once.

He shook up his horse into a better gait. It were best to hurry. He
did not want to be seen visiting her late in the evening. He knew the
scandalous tongues of the village only