and making slowly toward him. At first he did
not recognize his own mistress and the young
man who had been her almost constant companion
since that memorable fright on the mesa eight
months before. But as they drew closer, and he
came to know the slender form in white, he sounded
a soft whinny of greeting and pressed eagerly close
to the fence. The pair came near, very near; but
neither of them paid the least attention to him -- a
fact which troubled him deeply. And directly
his mistress spoke, but, as she was addressing herself
to the young man, this troubled him even
more. But he could listen, and listen he did.

"Stephen," she was saying, "you _must_ accept
my answer as final. For you must know, Stephen,"
she went on, quietly, "that I have not changed
toward you. My answer to-night, and my answer
to-morrow night, and my answer for ever, in so
far as I can see, will be what it was last autumn.
I am more than sorry that this is so. But it is
so, nevertheless." She was firm, though Pat,
knowing her well, knew that it required all the
force of her trembling soul to give firmness to her
words.

Stephen felt something of this as he stood beside
her in grim meekness. With his hungry eyes
upon her, he felt the despair of one sunk to utter
depths, of a man mentally and physically broken.
For he loved this girl. And it was this love, God-given,
that made him persist. In the spell of this
love he realized that he was but a weak agent,
uttering demands given him to utter, and unable,

[[134]]

p133 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p134w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p135

v?