weeks ago and found
she had gone to Chicago. Her father died over a year ago and
she decided soon after to go to the city and go on with her
music. She's in some conservatory there. I don't know which
one. I tried hard to keep her on my own account but she
wouldn't listen to me. Well, yes, she listened but she shook
her head. She dropped King soon after your visit--whether you
had anything to do with that or not I don't know--I think you
did, but as you didn't write she gave you up as a bad
job. She always used to talk of you and wonder where you
were, and every time I called she used to sing If I Were a
Voice. She never _said_ she was singing it for you, but there
were tears in her eyes--and in mine, too, old man. You
oughtn't to be throwing yourself away in that wild,
God-forsaken country. We discussed you most of the time. Once
in a while she'd see a little note in the paper about you,
and cut it out and send it to me. I did the same. We heard of
you at Flagstaff, Arizona. Then that row you had with the
Mormons was the next we knew, but we couldn't write. She said
it was pretty tough to hear of you only in some scrape, but I
told her your side hadn't been heard from and that gave her a
lot of comfort. The set-to you had about the Indians' right
to hunt pleased us both. That was a straight case. She said
it was like a knight of the olden time.

"She was uneasy about you, and once she said, 'I wish I could
reach him. That rough life terrifies me. He's in constant
danger.' I think she was afraid you'd take to drinking, and I
own up, old man, that worries _me_. If you only had somebody
to look after you--somebody to work for--like I have. I'm
going to be married in September. You know her--only she was
a little girl when you lived here. Her name is Lily
Blanchard.

"I wish I could help you about Mary. I'm going to write to
one or two parties who may know her address. If she's in
Chicago you could visit her without any trouble. They
wouldn't get on to you there at all. If you go, be sure and
come this way. Your father went to Denver from here--have you
heard from him?"

There was deep commotion in the trailer's brain that night. The hope he
had was too sacredly sweet to put into words--the hope that she still
thought of him and longed for him. If Jack were right, then