She rose hurriedly and ascended to her room.
At her desk she drew paper and pen toward her.

My dear Stephen [she began her letter], -- I am sending Pat
to you through Miguel. I wanted to help you in some way.
I cannot help you myself directly, but in Pat I feel you will
have a valuable aid. Take him -- take him with my dearest
and best wishes for your success. Pat may actually show
you the way -- may actually point the way out to you. Who
knows? He understands who you are, I know, and I am
sure he knows what you have been, and what you still are,
to me.

Helen.

For a moment she sat deep in thought. Then
suddenly awaking to the lateness of the hour, she
arose and, going to the corral, called to the hostler.
Miguel appeared, and she handed him the note,
giving him careful instructions the while in regard
to the horse. The Mexican smiled and entered
the stable in quest of saddle and bridle, the while
she turned to Pat in his corner and explained what
she was about to do.

"Pat dear," she began, nestling her cheek
against his head, "you are going away. You are
going with Stephen. Do you remember Stephen?"
Emotion began to grip her. "You have served
me well, Pat, and faithfully. I hope you will
prove as true to your new master. I -- I wanted
to help him. But I -- I couldn't -- couldn't--"
She could not go on. Gazing up into his eyes she
seemed to see him waver -- knew that it was because
of her blinding tears -- and abruptly left him
and returned to the house.

In her room she stood weeping at the window

[[148]]

p147 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p148w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p149

v?