Death," he explained.

She turned to look him in the eyes, a vague expression of puzzled fear
on her face.

"She has never heard of it," said Ned Trent to himself, and aloud:
"Men who undertake it leave comfort behind. They embrace hunger and
weariness, cold and disease. At the last they embrace death, and are
glad of his coming."

Something in his tone compelled belief; something in his face told her
that he was a man by whom the inevitable hardships of winter and
summer travel, fearful as they are, would be lightly endured. She
shuddered.

"This dreadful thing is necessary?" she asked.

"Alas, yes."

"I do not understand--"

"In the North few of us understand," agreed the young man with a hint
of bitterness seeping through his voice. "The mighty order, and so we
obey. But that is beside the point. I have not told you these things
to harrow you; I have tried to excuse myself for my actions. Does it
touch you a little? Am I forgiven?"

"I do not understand how such things can be," she objected in some
confusion, "why such journeys must exist. My mind cannot comprehend
your explanations."

The stranger leaned forward abruptly, his eyes blazing with the
magnetic personality of the man.

"But your heart?" he breathed.

It was the moment. "My heart--" she repeated, as though bewildered by
the intensity of his eyes, "my heart--ah--yes!"

Immediately the blood rushed over her face and throat in a torrent.
She snatched her eyes away, and cowered back in the corner, going red
and white by turns, now angry, now frightened, now bewildered, until
his gaze, half masterful, half pleading, again conquered hers. Galen
Albret had ceased tapping his chair. In the dim light he sat, staring
straight before him, massive, inert, grim.

"I believe you--" she murmured hurriedly at last. "I pity you!"

She rose. Quick as light he barred her passage.

"Don't! don't!" she pleaded. "I must go--you have shaken me--I--I do
not understand myself--"

"I must see you again," he whispered eagerly. "To-night--by the guns."

"No, no!"

"To-night," he insisted.

She raised her eyes to his, this time naked of defence, so that the
man saw down through their depths into her very soul.

"Oh," she begged, quivering, "let me pass. Don't you see--I'm going to
cry!"

_Chapter Six_

For a moment Ned Trent stared through the darkness into which Virginia
had disappeared. Then he turned a troubled face to the task he had set
h