"It would seem so. But there was another whose name I recall--Jack

Moffat. Why not have him?"

Miss Spencer glanced uneasily at her chosen companion, her cheeks

reddening. But that gentleman remained provokingly silent, and she was

compelled to reply.

"We--we never mention him any more. He was a very bad man."

"Indeed?"

"Yes; it seems he had a wife and four children he had run away from,

back in Iowa. Perhaps that was why his eyes always looked so sad. She

actually advertised for him in one of the Omaha papers. It was a

terrible shock to all of us. I was so grateful to Howard that he

succeeded in opening my eyes in time."

Mr. Wynkoop placed his hand gently upon her shoulder. "Never mind,

dearie," he said, cheerfully. "The West was all so strange to you, and

it seemed very wonderful at first. But that is all safely over with

now, and, as my wife, you will forget the unpleasant memories."

And Miss Spencer, totally oblivious to Brant's presence, turned

impulsively and kissed him.

There was a rustle at the inner door, and Naida stood there. Their

eyes met, and the color mounted swiftly to the girl's cheeks. Then he

stepped resolutely forward, forgetful of all other presence, and

clasped her hand in both his own. Neither spoke a word, yet each

understood something of what was in the heart of the other.

"Will you walk outside with me?" he asked, at last. "I have much to

say which I am sure you would rather hear alone."

She bent her head, and with a brief word of explanation to the others,

the young officer conducted her forth into the bright July sunshine.

They walked in silence side by side along the bank of the little

stream. Brant glanced furtively toward the sweet, girlish face. There

was a pallor on her countenance, a shadow in her eyes, yet she walked

with the same easy grace, her head firmly poised above her white

throat. The very sadness marking her features seemed to him an added

beauty.

He realized where they were going now, where memory had brought them

without conscious volition. As he led her across the rivulet she

glanced up into his face with a smile, as though a happy recollection

had burst upon her. Yet not a word was spoken until the barrier of

underbrush had been completely penetrated, and they stood face to face

under the trees. Then Brant spoke.

"Naida," he said, gravely, "I have come back, as I said I would, and

surely I read welcome in your eyes?"




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