aining nor hardship
will overcome."

"Do you expect me to believe you when you talk like that?" asked
Mary. "What about that time when you got on to the ice to get
Jervis Ferrars out of Oily Dave's flooded house? Do you think a
girl who was a coward could have done that?"

"I could not have done it if I had stayed to think about it,"
replied Katherine, a soft flush stealing into her cheeks. "But
there was no time to think about oneself, the thing had to be done
quickly, so it was easy enough. If I had set out from home that
morning, knowing what was in front of me, I could not possibly have
faced it, of that I am quite sure."

"In other words, what it really amounts to is this: we are all
cowards by nature, but it is possible, by cultivating the grace of
self-sacrifice, so to forget ourselves in our care for others that
we can rise above our natural cowardice, and become as brave or
braver than men," said Mary.

"It sounds like a sermon put that way," Katherine replied with a
laugh. "Why don't you take to writing books, if you can express
yourself so much to the point?"

"Because, before writing books successfully, one must have lived,
not merely existed, as I have done," Mary answered a little sadly.
Then she said in a different tone; "You have done me a lot of good,
and I shall sleep to-night like a top--the first real rest I have
had since that miserable morning on the rocks."

"I shall sleep too, I hope, for I have a big day's work to-morrow,"
Katherine said, rising to go.

"Give me a kiss, dear, just to show me that you don't despise me
for being a coward, or rather for remaining a coward," Mary said,
drawing Katherine's head down.

There was a wild desire in Katherine's heart to push off those
caressing hands, and rush away in all haste: but she did not yield
to it, realizing that this also was a time for self-forgetting; so,
stooping, she kissed Mary on both cheeks.

CHAPTER XXII

A Business Offer

A fortnight slipped away. August had come in, with lengthening
nights, which sometimes had a touch of Arctic cold in them. But it
was glorious summer still, and although in those uncultivated
wastes there was little harvest from the land, the harvest of the
sea went merrily on. Mary Selincourt was out and about again,
limping a little at first, and leaning on a stick, but soon gaining
strength enough to go about as usual; only now, made wise by
experience, she took good care to avoid plac