ck, sort of. I
reckon I better go over before long and make up my own bed--my tent is
beyond the willers yonder."

She could not know that Sim Gage's bed that night would be composed of
nothing better than a pile of willow boughs. He had given her the last
of the new blankets--and his own old bed was missing now. Wid had
fulfilled his threat and burned it.

She stood alone, her throat throbbing, hesitant, at the side of the
rude bunk.

"He's a kind man," said she to herself, half aloud, after a time. "Oh,
if only I could see!"

She began to feel her way about, stood at the door for a time, looking
out. Something told her that the darkness of night was coming on. She
turned, felt her way back to the edge of the bunk, and knelt down, her
head in her hands. Mary Warren prayed.

She paused after a long time--half-standing, a hand upon the soft-piled
blankets, her eyes every way. Yes, she was sure it was dark. And
above all things she was sure that she was weary, unutterably,
unspeakably weary. The soft warmth of the blankets about her was
comforting.

Sim Gage in his own place of rest was uneasy. Darkness came on late by
the clock in that latitude. Something was on Sim's mind. He had
forgotten to tell his new housekeeper how to make safe the door! He
wondered whether she had gone to bed or whether she was sitting there
in the dark--an added darkness all around her. He was sure that if he
told her how to fasten the door she would sleep better.

Timidly, he got up out of his own comfortless couch, and groped for the
electric flash-light which sometimes may be seen in places such as his
to-day. He tiptoed along the path through the willows, across the
yard, and knocked timidly at the door. He heard no answer. A sudden
fear came to him. Had she in terror fled the place--was she wandering
hopelessly lost, somewhere out there in the night? He knocked more
loudly, pushed open the door, turned the flash light here and there in
the room.

He saw her lying, the blankets piled up above her, a white arm thrown
out, her eyes closed, her face turned upon her other arm, deep in the
stupor of exhaustion. She was a woman, and very beautiful.

Suddenly frightened, he cut off the light. But the glare had wakened
her. She started up, called out, "Who's there?" Her voice was vibrant
with terror. "Who's _there_?" she repeated.

"It's only me, ma'am," said Sim Gage, his voice trembling.

"You said you would