"I like the country, and I like the men," went on Edith. "One reason I
want to go home soon is because I am discontented enough at home now,
without falling in love with the West. For, of course, Majesty, I would.
I could not live out here. And that brings me to my point. Admitting
all the beauty and charm and wholesomeness and good of this wonderful
country, still it is no place for you, Madeline Hammond. You have your
position, your wealth, your name, your family. You must marry. You must
have children. You must not give up all that for a quixotic life in a
wilderness."

"I am convinced, Edith, that I shall live here all the rest of my life."

"Oh, Majesty! I hate to preach this way. But I promised your mother I
would talk to you. And the truth is I hate--I hate what I'm saying. I
envy you your courage and wisdom. I know you have refused to marry
Boyd Harvey. I could see that in his face. I believe you will refuse
Castleton. Whom will you marry? What chance is there for a woman of your
position to marry out here? What in the world will become of you?"

"Quien sabe?" replied Madeline, with a smile that was almost sad.

*****

Not so many hours after this conversation with Edith, Madeline sat with
Boyd Harvey upon the grassy promontory overlooking the west, and she
listened once again to his suave courtship.

Suddenly she turned to him and said, "Boyd, if I married you would you
be willing--glad to spend the rest of your life here in the West?"

"Majesty!" he exclaimed. There was amaze in the voice usually so even
and well modulated--amaze in the handsome face usually so indifferent.
Her question had startled him. She saw him look down the iron-gray
cliffs, over the barren slopes and cedared ridges, beyond the
cactus-covered foothills to the grim and ghastly desert. Just then, with
its red veils of sunlit dust-clouds, its illimitable waste of ruined and
upheaved earth, it was a sinister spectacle.

"No," he replied, with a tinge of shame in his cheek. Madeline said no
more, nor did he speak. She was spared the pain of refusing him, and she
imagined he would never ask her again. There was both relief and regret
in the conviction. Humiliated lovers seldom made good friends.

It was impossible not to like Boyd Harvey. The thought of that, and why
she could not marry him, concentrated her never-satisfied mind upon the
man. She looked at him, and she thought of him.

He was handsome, young, rich, well