He turned to Helen.

"You are very much alike," he declared--"you and your horse." Then he
paused as if in thought. "The spirit of the desert," he went on,
absently, "shows itself through all the phases of its life."

Helen brightened "I am glad you think that of us, Stephen," she
answered, as if relieved by this unexpected turn. "Pat is truly of the
desert. He was born and bred in this land of _amole_ and cactus."

"And you?" he asked.

"I also," she replied, gravely. "I too was born and bred in this land of
_amole_ and cactus." Suddenly she turned her head. "I am afraid
they are looking for us."

They returned to the house. Helen's guests were preparing to depart.
There was much high humor, and when the last but one was gone, and this
one, Stephen, standing on the porch with hat in hand, Helen found that
for the moment she had forgotten her distress. At sight of him, however,
it all returned to her, and she faced him with earnest solicitude.

"Tell me, Stephen," she burst out, "that you forgive me my unkind words,
and that you will try to forget them. But whether you succeed in that or
not, Stephen," she hastily added, her voice breaking, "tell me that you
will continue to be friendly. We want you, all of us--I want you! I have
enjoyed our rides together so much! They have meant much to me, and I
hope they have been enjoyable to you. So let us go on, on this accepted
basis, and be friends. Tell me you will, Stephen!"

He was silent a long time. Then he told her of his hastily made plans.
He was going away from town, of course. He could not remain, under the
circumstances. Yet where he was going he didn't know. He would go
farther West, probably--go somewhere and try to make good--try to do
something worth while, to be something worth while. Saying which, he
then thanked her fervently for everything--for her society, for her
frank criticism, for having awakened him to an understanding of himself.

Helen stood speechless. She had not anticipated this, that he would go
away, that he would leave her. A deep-surging bitterness gripped her,
and for a moment she almost relented. But only for a moment. The spell
passed, and she looked at him with frank, level eyes.

"I am sorry to hear that, Stephen," she declared, quietly. "We want you
with us--all of us. But--but tell me," she concluded, finding the words
coming with difficulty--"tell me that you feel no--no antagonism toward
me, Stephen, because I can't--can't lov