ll of satisfaction through the
man; it was seldom that Millicent Gladwyne's appearance was unwelcome to
her friends. She approached him with outstretched hand.

"I drove over for you. Clarence couldn't come; he was suddenly called up
to town," she began. "It would have been rather lonely for you to spend
the first evening by yourself at the Lodge. You will come to us?"

"Thoughtful as ever," smiled Nasmyth, with a little bow which was
respectful as well as friendly. "I needn't ask how you are; the way you
walked along the platform was a testimony to our Border air."

She laughed, softly and musically.

"It is more needful to inquire how you have stood your adventures?"

"I believe I'm thinner; but that isn't astonishing, everything
considered. I suppose Clarence is getting on pretty satisfactorily?"

"Clarence? Oh, yes!" There was a hint of uncertainty in her voice which
Nasmyth noticed. "He has been in town a good deal of late. But come
along; the horse--he's a new one--is rather restive. They'll send on your
things."

"The remnant of my outfit's contained in one small bag," laughed Nasmyth;
"the rest's scattered about the hillsides of British Columbia. I was a
picturesque scarecrow when I reached the settlements."

They moved away along the platform, and on reaching the trap he got up
beside her and handed her the reins.

"I want to look about, if you don't mind," he explained.

"I really think the prospect's worth it," she replied. "Besides, Riever's
fresh and needs humoring."

She shook the whip, and as they clattered away down the steep, twisting
road, Nasmyth glanced with satisfaction to left and right. He had seen
wilder and grander lands, but none of them appealed to him like this
high, English waste. On one hand dim black hills rose out of fleecy mist;
on the other a leafless birch wood, close by, stood out in curiously
fragile and delicate tracery against a paling saffron glow, though
overhead the sky was barred with motionless gray cloud. A sharp smell of
peat-smoke followed them as they clattered past a low white cottage with
a yellow glow in one window; and then the earthy scent of rotting leaves
replaced it as they plunged into the gloom of an oak wood beneath the
birches. A stream splashing down a hollow made faint music in the midst
of it. When they had emerged from the shadow and climbed a steep rise,
wide moors stretched away in front, rising and falling in long
undulations, streaked with b