," said he at last.

"No, no," she exclaimed. "I'm a wicked woman to wish ter kiss her. I
done wrong in telling the secret, but yer sympathy jest twisted it
outer me. Promise me, Mr. Ajax, that ye'll never give me away."

We pledged our word, and left her.

* * * * *

"Gloriana's dun days must soon come to an end," said Ajax to me upon
the eve of the wedding.

"Why shouldn't she marry Uncle Jake? The old chap wants her. He
informed me this afternoon that a double team travelled farther than a
single horse. And he hangs about the kitchen door all the time, and
divides Gloriana's favours with the pig."

"Tell him to propose."

"I'll have to do it for him," replied my brother. "Uncle Jake has not
the gift of tongues."

We accompanied Gloriana to San Lorenzo; as we feared to trust our
friend--for so we had come to regard her--with the mule, a mischievous
beast, spoiled by prosperity. Ajax drove a skittish pair of colts.
Gloriana and I occupied the back seat of our big spring wagon.

"My brother is not Uncle Jake," said Ajax, as soon as the colts had
settled down to business, "but he'll tell you all the pretty things
the old man says about you."

"Uncle Jake is puffectly rediclous," replied Gloriana gaily. "His love
is cupboard love."

"He has mired down at last."

"Nonsense! Mr. Ajax."

"He is set on matrimony. You are the one woman in the world for him.
Take him, Gloriana; and then we'll all live together for ever and
ever."

"Mr. Ajax, you'd sooner joke than eat."

"I'm not joking now. Uncle Jake is an honest man, with money laid by.
He would make you comfortable for life, and such a marriage might pave
the way to--to a better understanding with Doctor Standish."

Her face flushed at these last words, and fire flooded her eyes.
Looking at her, I realised that long ago this worn woman must have
been a beautiful girl.

"No," she answered steadily. "I wouldn't say Yes to the Angel Gabriel.
Uncle Jake and I would make a baulky team. He's obstinate as my old
mule, an' so am I. An' there's another thing: I'm most petered out,
an' need a rest. Mattermony ain't rest."

My brother had tact enough to change the subject.

Descending the San Lorenzo grade, a sharp incline, Gloriana called our
attention to a view panoramic and matchless beneath the glamour of
sunset. Below us lay the mission town, its crude buildings aglow with
rosy light; to the left was the canon, a frowning wilderne