in her voice, the world might not have looked so
dark to him. When he did look at her again, her face was calm almost to
sereneness.

"And you will come to Boston in June just the same?"

"If your sister and--and your mother still want me to come."

[Illustration: "'I think I understand, rosalie'"]

She was thinking of herself, the nameless one, in the house of his
people; she was thinking of the doubts, the speculations--even the fears
that would form the background of her welcome in that proud house. No
longer was Rosalie Gray regarding herself as the happy, careless
foster-child of Anderson Crow; she was seeing herself only as the
castaway, the unwanted, and the world was growing bitter for her. But
Bonner was blind to all this; he could not, should not know.

"You know they want you to come. Why do you say that?" he asked quickly,
a strange, dim perspective rising before him for an instant, only to
fade away before it could be analysed.

"One always says that," she replied with a smile. "It is the penalty of
being invited. Your sister has written the dearest letter to me, and I
have answered it. We love one another, she and I."

"Rosalie, I am going to write to you," said he suddenly; "you will
answer?"

"Yes," she told him simply. His heart quickened, but faltered, and was
lost. "I had a long letter from Elsie Banks to-day," she went on with an
indifference that chilled.

"Oh," he said; "she is your friend who was or is to marry Tom Reddon, I
believe. I knew him at Harvard. Tell me, are they married?"

"No. It was not to take place until March, but now she writes that her
mother is ill and must go to California for several months. Mr. Reddon
wants to be married at once, or before they go West, at least; but she
says she cannot consent while her mother requires so much of her. I
don't know how it will end, but I presume they will be married and all
go to California. That seems the simple and just way, doesn't it?"

"Any way seems just, I'd say," he said. "They love one another, so
what's the odds? Do you know Reddon well?"

"I have seen him many times," she replied with apparent evasiveness.

"He is a--" but here he stopped as if paralysis had seized him suddenly.
The truth shot into his brain like a deadly bolt. Everything was as
plain as day to him now. She stooped to pick up a slim, broken reed that
crossed her path, and her face was averted. "God!" was the cry that
almost escaped his lips. "She lo