tled cry of joy, an answering
exclamation of love, and Rose was clasped in her husband's arms.

A few moments afterwards the sweet-faced woman said: "Who was that man
who rode away to the north as I came up, Clive? He reminded me of some
one."

"That was the leader of the White Guard, the man who saved me, Rose." He
paused a moment and then solemnly said: "It was Jaspar Hume."

The wife came to her feet with a spring. "He saved you--Jaspar Hume! Oh,
Clive!"

"He saved me, Rose."

Her eyes were wet: "And he would not stay and let me thank him! Poor
fellow, poor Jaspar Hume! Has he been up here all these years?"

Her face was flushed, and pain was struggling with the joy she felt in
seeing her husband again.

"Yes, he has been here all the time."

"Then he has not succeeded in life, Clive!" Her thoughts went back to
the days when, blind and ill, Hume went away for health's sake, and she
remembered how sorry then she felt for him, and how grieved she was
that when he came back strong and well, he did not come near her or
her husband, and offered no congratulations. She had not deliberately
wronged him. She knew he cared for her: but so did Lepage. A promise
had been given to neither when Jaspar Hume went away; and after that
she grew to love the successful, kind-mannered genius who became her
husband. No real pledge had been broken. Even in this happiness of
hers, sitting once again at her husband's feet, she thought with tender
kindness of the man who had cared for her eleven years ago; and who had
but now saved her husband.

"He has not succeeded in life," she repeated softly. Looking down at
her, his brow burning with a white heat, Lepage said: "He is a great
man, Rose."

"I am sure he is a good man," she added.

Perhaps Lepage had borrowed some strength not all his own, for he said
almost sternly: "He is a great man."

His wife looked up half-startled and said: "Very well, dear; he is a
good man--and a great man."

The sunlight still came in through the open door. The Saskatchewan
flowed swiftly between its verdant banks, an eagle went floating away to
the west, robins made vocal a solitary tree a few yards away, troopers
moved backwards and forwards across the square, and a hen and her
chickens came fluttering to the threshold. The wife looked at the yellow
brood drawing close to their mother, and her eyes grew wistful. She
thought of their one baby asleep in an English grave. But thinking of
the wor