ousin was not only a thief but a liar. Born of a race of soldiers,
with the traditions of family and of the army back of him for
generations, the latter offense was the greater of the two. He
understood something of how Miss Dwight felt. She had let herself become
greatly interested in this vagabond cousin of his. Openly she had
championed his cause. Now her feelings were wounded, her pride hurt, and
her anger ablaze. The fellow's offense against her had been flagrant.

So far the captain had guessed correctly. Moya writhed like a bruised
woodland creature. Her friendship had been abused. She had been as
credulous as a simple country wench, while he no doubt had been laughing
up his sleeve at her all the time. No longer had she any doubt as to his
guilt. She visualized the hurried run for safety to camp, the swift
disposal of the treasure in the river because of the close pursuit. When
she lived over again that scene on Sunbeam the girl flogged her soul
like a penitent. As one grinds defiantly on an ulcerated tooth, so she
crushed her pride and dragged it in the dust.

But the wound was deeper even than this. To give herself in friendship
impulsively was her temperament, though not many were judged worthy of
such giving. This blue-eyed scamp had won her as no man ever had before.
She had seen him through a glamour. Now his character stood stripped in
its meanness. Her sweet trust was crushed. In the reaction that was upon
her she craved rest and safety. No longer had she any confidence in her
own judgment. Against the advice of her friends she had been wayward and
headstrong, so sure that she knew best.

Kilmeny, sitting beside her in the deep shadows cast by the wild
cucumber vines, became aware that she was weeping silently. His heart
bled for her. He had known her always buoyant, gallant as Galahad,
vibrant of joy to the finger tips.

"I say, don't," he pleaded. It was impossible for him to voice
adequately his feelings. Greatly daring, he let an arm rest across the
shoulders that were being racked by suppressed _pianissimo_ sobs.

"You mustn't, you know. I can't stand it." And, again, "Please don't."

She gulped down the lump in her throat and turned upon him filmy eyes,
the lashes of which were tangled with tears. This fine strong soldier
represented the haven of rest toward which she was being driven. Had she
never met his American cousin she knew that she would probably have
accepted him in the end. The swif