xterior. Only his voice was hoarse, and his lips were dry, and the
usually clear whites of his eyes were bloodshot.

"The boy has asked you, then?" he said slowly. And he waited for the
death-knell of all his hopes, his love.

"Yes." Eve's voice was very low. Her gentle woman's heart ached, for
her instinct told her of the pain she was causing. "Last night he
asked me to be his wife, and I--I love him, Jim, and so I consented."

"Yes, yes." There was weariness in the man's voice now. It sounded
almost as though he were physically weary. "I hope you will be happy,
dear. Will's--a good boy----"

"Yes, and I asked him if you knew anything about it. And he said,
'No.' He said it would be a little surprise for you---- You are not
going?" Jim had suddenly started to his feet. "Won't you wait for
Will? He's staying in the village. He said he'd be up to see me this
morning--before he went out to the hills."

Jim could stand no more.

"I'm glad you told me, Eve," he said, almost harshly. "Will's not good
at surprises. No, I won't stay. I'll get right back, after I've done
some business in the village." He stood, glancing thoughtfully down at
the village for some moments. Then he turned again, and a shadowy
smile lit his sombre eyes.

"I've given out a contract for that homestead," he went on. "Well, I'm
going to cancel it. Good-bye, little girl."

"Oh, Jim, I----"

But the man shook his head.

"Don't you be sorry. Get all the happiness you can. Maybe Will will be
a real good husband to you."

He moved away and strode after his horse. The beast was well out on
the market-place, and Eve watched him catch it and clamber into the
saddle. Then she turned away with a sigh, and found herself looking
into the beautiful face of her brother. He had silently crept up to
her side.

"You've hurt him, sis; you've hurt him real bad. Did you see? It was
all inside. Inside here;" the boy folded his delicate hands over his
hollow breast. "I know it because I feel it here, too. It's as though
you'd taken right hold of a bunch of cords here, and were pulling 'em,
tearing 'em, an' someway they're fixed right on to your heart. That's
the way you've hurt him, an' it hurts me, because I like him--he's
good. You don't know what it feels when a man's hurt. I do. It's
elegant pain. Gee!" His calm face was quite unlit by the emotion he
described. "It don't stop at your heart. It gets right through to your
muscles, and they tingle and itch t