Bob Hampton of Placer

"I ain't a young lady!"

"No; well, you 're going to be if I have my way, and I don't believe

the sort of a gent described would be very apt to help you much in

getting there."

"You ain't all that."

"Well, perhaps not. Like an amateur artist, madam may have laid the

colors on a little thick. But I am no winged angel, Kid, nor exactly a

model for you to copy after. I reckon you better stick to the woman,

and cut me."

She did not answer, yet he read an unchanged purpose in her eyes, and

his own decision strengthened. Some instinct led him to do the right

thing; he drew forth the locket from beneath the folds of her dress,

holding it open to the light. He noticed now a name engraven on the

gold case, and bent lower to decipher it.

"Was her name Naida? It is an uncommon word."

"Yes."

"And yours also?"

"Yes."

Their eyes met, and those of both had perceptibly softened.

"Naida," his lips dwelt upon the peculiar name as though he loved the

sound. "I want you to listen to me, child. I sincerely wish I might

keep you here with me, but I can't. You are more to me than you dream,

but it would not be right for me thus deliberately to sacrifice your

whole future to my pleasure. I possess nothing to offer you,--no home,

no friends, no reputation. Practically I am an outlaw, existing by my

wits, disreputable in the eyes of those who are worthy to live in the

world. She, who was your mother, would never wish you to remain with

me. She would say I did right in giving you up into the care of a good

woman. Naida, look on that face in the locket, your mother's face. It

is sweet, pure, beautiful, the face of a good, true woman. Living or

dead, it must be the prayer of those lips that you become a good woman

also. She should lead you, not I, for I am unworthy. For her sake,

and in her name, I ask you to go back to Mrs. Herndon."

He could perceive the gathering tears in her eyes, and his hand closed

tightly about her own. It was not one soul alone that struggled.

"You will go?"

"O Bob, I wish you wasn't a gambler!"

A moment he remained silent. "But unfortunately I am," he admitted,

soberly, "and it is best for you to go back. Won't you?"