e was well under
control, and she appeared to be answering the young man. Also, it was
quite evident that she was not accepting his argument, whatever it was.
Yet her voice took on many delicate changes. Sometimes he heard a note
of pleading; again, mild exasperation; and once a falling inflection
which hinted at sadness. So it continued, his mistress talking as he had
never heard her talk before, until the group ahead drew rein and
wheeled, indicating their intention of returning. Then once more the
voice of his mistress changed suddenly and became light, even gay,
leaving Pat, as he himself was turned around, a very much mystified
horse.

Yet this gaiety did not last. When they were well on their way back
toward the ranch, with the sun higher and brighter in the heavens, and
the trail correspondingly whiter and more dazzling to the eye, he found
himself listening to grave tones again--the voice of the young man. He
talked steadily now, his flow of words always tense, though occasionally
interrupted by the other with a quiet rejoinder. Then suddenly he ceased
altogether, and Pat, acutely conscious of the silence which descended
upon them, was relieved when it was broken by sounds of laughter ahead.
Still the pair above him did not speak. Each appeared to be adrift on a
sea of thought the like of which he had never known. And it continued,
this ominous silence, and became heavier, until he saw the ranch loom up
ahead. Then he felt his mistress urge him into a canter that she might
join the others for the parting. But when the party broke up, as it did
with much good feeling, and he found himself turned loose to one side,
with his mistress and the young man walking into the shade of a
cottonwood, he found himself forced, since he now was out of range of
their voices, to forego any further listening, keenly against his
desires. So he gave it all up as a bad job.

"Stephen," began Helen, seating herself upon a hummock of earth, "I am
sorry--sorry beyond words--that it has turned out this way! I must admit
that I like you--like you very much! But--but I am afraid it is not the
sort of liking you ask."

He was seated beside her, reclining upon one elbow, absently thrusting
the tip of his riding-whip into a tuft of grass. And now again, as
before that morning, he told her of his very great love for her, his
deep voice vibrant with emotion, grimly acknowledging himself as
unworthy of her, yet asking with rare simplicity tha