he stood in awe of herself.

One afternoon Firmstone was sitting in his room, looking out of his
window, and in spite of the grandeur of the mountain there was little of
glory but much of gloom in his thoughts. The mine was in ruins; so, as
far as he could see, were his labours, his ambitions, and his prospects.
He tried to keep his thoughts on the gloom of the clouds and shut his
eyes to their silver lining. The silver lining was in softly glowing
evidence, but he could not persuade himself that it was for him. Step by
step he was going over every incident of his intercourse with Elise.
Their first meeting, her subsequent warning that his life was in serious
danger, her calm, resolute putting aside of all thought of danger to
herself, her daring ride up the tram to keep him from sure death when
she knew that the tram-house was to be blown up, that the catastrophe
might occur at any moment, her unremitting care of him, wounded near to
death: all these came to him, filled him with a longing love that left
no nerve nor fibre of heart or soul untouched with thrills that, for all
their pain, were even yet not to be stilled by his own volition.
Firmstone grew more thoughtful. He realised that Elise was only a girl
in years, yet her natural life, untrammelled by conventional proprieties
which distract and dissipate the limited energy in a thousand divergent
channels, had forced her whole soul into the maturity of many waxing and
waning seasons. Every manifestation of her restless, active mind had
stood out clear and sharp in the purity of unconscious self. This was
the disturbing element in Firmstone's anxious mind. Responsive to every
mood, fiercely unsparing of herself, yet every attempted word of
grateful appreciation from him had been anticipated and all but fiercely
repelled. With all his acumen, Firmstone yet failed to comprehend two
very salient features of a woman's heart, that, however free and
spontaneous she may be, there is one emotion instinctively and jealously
guarded, that she will reject, with indignation, gratitude offered as a
substitute for love.

Firmstone's meditations were interrupted by a knock on the door. Zephyr
came in, holding out a bulky envelope. It was from the eastern office of
the Rainbow Company. Firmstone's face stiffened as he broke the seals.
Zephyr noted the look and, after an introductory whistle, said:

"'Tisn't up to you to fret now, Goggles. Foolishness at two cents an
ounce or frac