him and lay upon his
soul, speaking of peace. He breathed more gently, and let his horse take
its time. From the gates of the west which had unclosed to receive the
going day, a breeze had surely blown from Paradise. And alone there, in
the soft dusk, two faces rose up before the man. One was fresh,
unfretted, appealing, beautiful, with brown eyes which looked innocence
and trust. The one beside it was crowned with a bewildering glory of
bronze-gold hair, full of sullen splendours, like a stormy sunset; an
oval face of perfect lines and charm ineffable, and winey eyes which
lured. He looked upon the two, and his eyes grew strained; that look of
awful weariness stole over his face, as though the battle were almost
too hard, and he groaned in his throat while a shudder swept him, making
him tremble from head to foot. He was conscious of a sound, far away,
but growing more distinct. _Clickety-clack! Clickety-clack!
Clickety-clack!_ It was a horse on the highway ahead, running fast.
_Clickety-clack! Clickety-clack!_ It was just around the bend in front
of him. In a dull way he drew his horse somewhat to one side. A huge
black shape thundered into view, seemingly of mammoth proportions in the
dim light. Straight to the middle of the road it clung, its hoofs
striking fire at every leap, its rider making no effort to swerve it.
Glenning called, and pulled his horse sharply aside. Horse and rider
swept by, so close that the man's knee brushed John's sleeve. In that
fraction of a second their eyes met, and each recognized the other. But
neither stopped. Marston rode on till his horse drew up quivering at his
gate, and Glenning, a new, strange light in his eyes, drove on towards
town.

Arriving at the livery stable he inquired for Judge Colver. That
gentleman lived in the country, and had gone home. He would have to make
his report in the morning, when the people could be advised by bulletin
of the presence of small-pox in the county, the proper quarantine
established, and measures taken for preventing the disease from
spreading. He suddenly remembered that, in the business of getting
established, he had neglected opening the account at the bank, and had
also forgotten his hotel bill. It was too late to keep his promise to
Dillard that day, so he turned down street towards the hotel, resolving
to settle his bill there. Supper was in progress when he entered the
office, and the place was comparatively empty. He paid his reckoning