t's thought that he had no choice; that he could not
do the first and must do the last.

"You shall come with me," said he quietly. "I will see that you have
every suitable protection and care."

She surveyed him with the same unmoved inquiry burning in her eyes.

"I don't hear," said she.

He looked at her, his lips set, his eyes as inquiring as her own.

"I don't believe it," he muttered just above his breath.

The steady stare of her eyes never faltered.

"You loved sister, love me," she whispered.

He fell back from her. This was not Georgian. This was the untutored girl
about whom Georgian had written to him. Everything proved it, even her
hands upon which his eyes now fell. Why had he not noticed them before?
He had meant to look at them the first thing. Now that he did, he saw
that he might have spared himself some of the miserable uncertainties of
the last few minutes. They were small and slight like Georgian's, but
very brown and only half cared for. That they were cared for at all
astonished him. But she soon explained that. Seeing where his eyes were
fixed, she cried out:

"Don't look at my hands. I know they are not real nice like sister's. But
I'm learning. She showed me how to rub them white and cut the nails. A
woman did it for me the first time and I've been doing it ever since, but
they don't look like hers, for all the pretty rings she bought me. Was I
foolish to want the rings? I always had rings when I was with the
gipsies. They were not gold ones, but I liked them. And Mother Duda liked
rings too and made me one once out of beads. It was on my finger when my
sister took me home with her. That is why she brought me these. She
didn't think the bead one was good enough. It wasn't much like hers."

Ransom recalled the diamonds and the rich sapphires he had been
accustomed to see on his bride's hand.

But this did not engage him long. Some method of communication must be
found with this girl, which could be both definite and unmistakable.
Feeling in his pocket, he brought out pencil and a small pad. He would
write what he had to say, and was hesitating over the words with which to
open this communication, when he saw her hand thrust itself between his
eyes and the pad, and heard these words uttered in a resolute tone, but
not without a hint of sadness:

"I cannot read. I have never been taught."

PART III

Money

CHAPTER XVIII

GOD'S FOREST, THEN MAN'S

The pencil and