arlet against the sky,--all backed by the more somber colors of
the oaks and elms, or the now almost naked branches of the lindens.

These enfolding forests gave a look of protectedness to this secret
place. They left a feeling not of discomfort but of shelter.
Moreover, the grass underfoot was soft and still green. Some sort
of comeliness, picturesque though rude, showed in the scant
attempts to modify nature in the arrangement of the grounds. And
there, noble and strong, upon a little eminence swelling at the
bottom of the valley's cup, lay the great house, rude, unfinished,
yet dignified. If it seemed just this side of elegance, yet the
look of it savored of comfort. To a woman distracted and wearied
it should have offered some sort of rest. To her who now gazed
upon it the sight afforded only horror. This then was the place.
Here was to be her trial. This was the battle-ground.

Dunwody lingered, hoping to hear some word of satisfaction.

"The hills are beautiful, the trees are beautiful, and the sky,"
she said, at length. "What God has done here is beautiful. But
God Himself is gone."

Rage filled him suddenly. "At any rate, this is what I have and
all I have," he said. "Like it, woman, or by that God! hate it!
Here you are, and here you stay, until--until I die or until God
returns. You are the only woman in it for me when you step into
that house there. You are its mistress. I rule here. But what
you want shall be yours at any time you want it. You can think of
nothing in the world that shall not be brought to you when you ask
for it. My servants are yours. Choose from them as many as you
like."

"Slaves for your slave? You are full of kindness indeed! But I
shall never be what you delicately call the mistress of Tallwoods."

"By the Lord! girl, if I thought that would be true--if I thought
for one moment that it were true--" in a half-frenzy he threw out
his arm, rigid. An instant later he had lapsed into one of the
moods new to him. "There is no punishment I don't deserve," he
said. "All the time I have hurt you, when I'd rather cut my tongue
out than hurt you. I've seen you, these few days. God knows, at
the hardest--me at the worst--you at the worst. But your worst is
better than the best of any other woman I ever saw. I'm going to
have you. It's you or nothing for me, and I'm going to have you.
Choose your own title here, then, Madam. This is your home or your
prison, as