"Where's Jim?" he asked.

"I—I think he has gone for a walk with Natalie."

He raised his eyebrows and then laughed.

"Take care of your brother, Miss Conlan. Natalie is a holy terror when she sets her cap at something. I must confess he's enough to turn any normal woman's head. Natalie has a weakness for big men. It'll certainly take a big one to keep her in order."

Angela forced a smile into her features, and went away feeling more miserable than ever. What might not a woman, well versed in love-making, succeed in achieving with an ingenuous fellow like Jim! And she was pretty too...!

It was three hours later when Jim and Natalie returned. Angela saw them coming up through the woods, Natalie chattering away in her broken English and Jim laughing amusedly. She wondered what had been the outcome of that journey. Had Jim proved an easy victim to Natalie's attractions? Judging by the latter's behavior it looked like it. Natalie seemed very happy and very sure of herself.

It gave Angela food for considerable reflection. If Jim chose to fall in love with the woman, could she—Angela—have any objection? Their relationship all through had been that of master and chattel, and must remain so in the circumstances. She had let him see that she regarded herself merely as his purchased possession, by a contract wherein love had not entered—on her part. Why should he not make love to another woman if he chose? Why not, indeed? But it hurt nevertheless.

In the evening, returning from a walk along the river, she met Natalie gathering spring flowers in the woods beyond the house. The latter welcomed her excitedly and took her arm familiarly.

"Is it that you go to-morrow?" she asked.

"If the food comes Jim is anxious to get to Dawson."

Natalie shot her a swift glance.

"To see you on zee boat?"

Angela gasped and stood still.

"I don't understand you. What boat?"

Natalie raised her eyebrows.

"Ees eet not so?"

"No."

"But he tell papa—yes. He say eet ees no place for you—ziss terr-ble climate. And you are so beautiful."

Angela felt as though a cold hand had suddenly gripped her heart. So it had come to that in less than two days!

"You are mistaken," she said.

"But zat is strange. But, ma cherie, would not you be glad to get away?"

Angela made no reply. She felt as though she was choking. They entered the house and found Jim talking with Devinne.

Later she had an opportunity of speaking to him in private.

"Are we leaving to-morrow?" she asked.

"Sure."

"For Dawson?"

"Yes."

"And what then?"

She saw his lips tighten, and the delay in replying told her that Natalie was right.

"I'm going to send you back to England," he said slowly.

"No."

"Yes."

"I won't go."

"You must. Angela, be reasonable. I'm broke, dead broke. I ought never to have brought you here, but I expected to be successful—and I ain't."

"Is that why you want me to go back?"

"Of course. You—you wanted your freedom, and I'm giving it to you."

"I told you I could take nothing from you."

"You've got to take this. Angela, you must forget all about that—other matter."

"How can I forget, when for a year you have constantly reminded me of it? If you put me on that steamer I'll get off at the first stopping-place and come back to you. You bought me and you've got to keep me until the debt is paid, no matter how—unhappy it may make you."

He smiled as he reflected that she thought her presence could make him unhappy, when his whole soul craved for her.

"Maybe it is someone else's happiness I am thinking of," he said quietly.

Someone else! The little green god within her seized on the remark. She confronted him with blazing eyes.

"I knew it!" she said. "But you might have been honest—you might have told me the truth. Oh God! and I've suffered all that—all that——"

The voice of Natalie came, singing, up the passage. Without another word Angela went to her room, leaving Jim bewildered by this strange outburst.

It was late in the evening, and a full moon sailed in the clear sky. The night was remarkably warm, and Devinne and Natalie and Jim were sitting on the veranda which skirted the south side of the house. Jim sat in a brown study, pondering over Angela's changed attitude. Devinne, as if by some pre-arranged plan, silently vanished into the house. Jim was suddenly brought to his senses by feeling Natalie's soft hand on his.

"You are verra—vat you call him—preoccupied, eh?"

"I was thinking."

"Of what?"

"Oh, of many things."

"The future?"

"Sure! It's that that's got me beat."

Her hand tightened on his.

"Why should you care for the future? Ees not zee present—beautiful?"

"Aye—if it could be always the present," he muttered.

"But zee future can be verra beautiful if one wishes so. Eet ees for you and for me to make zat future jus lak heaven!"

Jim pulled himself up with a jerk. It was not the words that affected him so much as the blaze of quick passion in her eyes.

"There's only one heaven for me, and I guess I've fallen out of it," he said. "Let us go in."

"No, no! The night is so wonderful—all, all is wonderful. Everywhere zere ees love—in zee trees, in zee wind. Do you not feel him?"

If Jim felt anything at all it was blue fear. He came to see the position as it was. She believed him a free man—even believed he might love her. The seemingly trivial actions of the afternoon became newly interpreted. Before he could get his breath Natalie rose to the occasion.

"You vill come back to-morrow after zee boat has gone? It has been so beautiful, zese two days. Say you vill come back!"

"Natalie!" he gasped.

She flung her arms round his neck and pressed her face to his.

"Ees eet zat I am too bold for your Eenglish ways? But I am not ashamed—no. I love you—oh, so much!——"

With a gasp he unlinked her arms and stood up.

"Natalie, what are you saying?"

"Why should I not say zat I love you?" she retorted hotly.

"You love me!" he muttered. "By God—I never dreamed——"

"Oh, Jeem!"

"Stop!" he roared. "Listen here, you'd better know the truth. I'm married!"

"Married?" she almost screamed.

"Jest that."

She stood up, all her wonderful castles strewn before her.

"Mon Dieu!" she groaned. "Mon Dieu!"

There was a sound from behind, and a figure slipped from out of the gloom—Angela. She stood facing them, her breast heaving under her emotions. Jim, seizing the opportunity, vanished into the house sick at the thought that Angela should have heard.

Angela approached Natalie and placed her arm round the latter's waist.

"Natalie," she said, "I couldn't help hearing."

"You—you heard?"

"Yes. And I had a right to hear."

"No one had a right——"

"Yes, someone had—his wife."

"You—his wife?"

Angela inclined her head.

"But he say you are his sister—and you act like that."

The problem became clearer to her. "Ah, I see—he say that because he do not want to cause you embarrassment—because you do not love him."

Angela turned to her in righteous indignation.

"You don't understand—he bought me, with money. I—I can't explain.... But I am sorry this has happened."

Natalie wiped away a tear, sniffed, and then composed herself.

"I vill try to forget," she said. "I am verra glad eet ees you—for you are so beautiful.... But I vish it was me he bought," she added wistfully.



CHAPTER XXII

GOLD

The one desire, obsessing Jim's mind, was to get away from Devinne's place. Natalie's unblushing overtures had scared him very considerably. Women had always puzzled him—they puzzled him even more now. He certainly had no use for women who ran at one in that way. Far better for them to be like Angela, cold and unapproachable, alluring yet repellent. One knew where one was with Angela, but never with Natalie.

And Angela had heard, and perhaps seen, all that had taken place! He mopped his brow as he reflected upon her feelings in the matter. He was modest and foolish enough to think that jealousy was out of the question, but she would undoubtedly object to playing second fiddle to Natalie. So much he knew of her.

Fearful of meeting Natalie at breakfast, he rose early and made his way out, determined not to return until Chips the half-breed arrived with his cargo. A little distance from the house he stopped, and returned for the shovel and pick and washing-pan, with a view to filling in his spare time and banishing from his mind the painful scene of last night.

The red sun was just mounting the horizon as he strode off, and birds were singing gayly in the woods. Half an hour's walk brought him out of the timber into comparatively bare country. Aimlessly he wandered on, drinking in the fresh morning air and stopping to gaze at the brilliant landscape from time to time. Below him, to the west, a small creek made a junction with the Yukon, its red water foaming over broken boulders, and leaping ten perpendicular feet to join the parent stream. He sauntered down towards it, the washing-pan clanking against the shovel as he walked.

Few men would have dug for gold along that creek; the surface had all the characteristics of unadulterated muck. He stuck the pick into it for the mere fun of hitting something. Though the sun shone warmly and rich the grass grew on either bank, the eternal ice was down under the surface.

In one hour he managed to dig out a cubic yard of earth. Having satisfied his hunger for exercise, he flung the shovel down and began to smoke.

Looking down the creek, he saw a clumsy flat-bottomed boat, piled high with cargo, swirling down the river, with a tousled-haired man in the stern keeping her from the bank by means of a pole.

"Chips," he murmured. "He must have started last night. So the food is here, and we can hike out to-day, thank God!"

As he looked, the punt struck a submerged sandbank and beached on it. Chips' little body bent on the pole, but except to swivel the punt on its axis it had no other result.

Jim stood up, and seizing his tools, made down the creek. He shouted to Chips, and the latter looked at him imploringly. Jim waded through the water and reached the craft.

"You should have kept her out more in the center, my friend," he said.

"Current go swift there—no make the landing."

"Hm! perhaps you're right. Here, take these aboard—I'll come back with you."

He put the shovel and pick over the side of the boat and catching hold of the stern, pushed hard. Chips gave a yell of joy as the punt slithered and then jolted into deep water. Jim clambered aboard and took the pole. Half an hour later they beached her at the landing-place.

Devinne and the other half-breed came running down the slope. The former looked at Jim in surprise.

"Where did you go to? We waited breakfast for twenty minutes, and then discovered you were not in."

"Sorry," mumbled Jim. "I was mad for a walk. I met Chips up the river, stuck on a sandbank, so I came along. He ain't a good sailor." Chips grinned, and he and his comrade commenced to pack the cargo up the hill. Jim walked back with Devinne; the latter regarded him in curious fashion. Entering the house, he met Angela, but Natalie was pleasantly absent. Angela surveyed his wet figure with a smile.

"Been swimming?" she queried.

"No. I've bin hurrying along the stores. I met Chips."

She was obviously pleased with the news.

"Then we can leave to-day?"

"Sure—and the sooner the better," he responded emphatically.

She was silent for a moment, then she said softly:

"Why weren't you in for breakfast?"

"Didn't feel like it."

"Was it because of last night?"

He nodded gloomily.

"I'm real scared of that woman," he murmured. "Gee! I shan't be happy till we clear away."

"Then you didn't know—know she——"

"Know!" he ejaculated. "Jumping rattlesnakes! It knocked me silly. Angela, you don't think I—gave her reason to believe——"

"I don't think you did. But, Jim, you are an extraordinary man."

"I don't get you."

"Not to know when a woman loves you."

He puckered his lips and shook his head in perplexity.

"How's a chap goin' to tell? It's a kind of disease that takes folks different ways. Can't rely on the symptoms. I once thought——"

She sunk her head.

"Don't talk of that—now. Here comes Devinne. Let us get the packs ready and go, while the day is yet young."

Half an hour later they were ready for the thirty-mile journey to Dawson. They said good-bye to Devinne, and to Natalie, who appeared at the last moment, exhibiting a gayety which was obviously superficial. She kissed Angela, and clung for a moment to Jim's hand to whisper:

"I vish you every happiness. Bon voyage!"

They saw her waving her handkerchief as they entered the woods and headed for their destination.

Traveling was pleasant enough, though the packs were heavy. Now that the following day would see them at Dawson, the question of the future loomed larger than ever. Broke, travel-stained, and tormented by the thought of parting, Jim could find little conversation, though Angela seemed cheerful enough. They came to the creek where Jim had rested but an hour or two before, and waded across it at the shallowest part. Traversing the opposite bank, Angela stopped and stared at the newly excavated hole.

"Someone has been digging here!" she exclaimed.

"Me," said Jim. "This morning."

"To find what we always find—muck?"

"I didn't wash it. Chips turned up and was in trouble——"

She stared at him in amazement.

"You dug all that and didn't wash it?"

"What's the use? It didn't look good to me."

She shrugged her shoulders and slipped her pack down.

"What's wrong?" he queried.

"Nothing. I'm going to wash it."

"Better not waste time——"

"Waste time! A few minutes won't make any difference, considering we've wasted a year already."

He turned from her with a sigh. She called it wasted, but it hadn't been wasted to him. Now that the end of the journey was nigh, he found a strange joy in looking back over the past. Every little incident of their strange pilgrimage seemed to have garnered gold about it. Compared to the lonely, forbidding future, the past was like a paradise, to live for ever in his heart and mind. He had missed much, but he had gained something—passionate, all-consuming love for a woman. Though she gave little in return, it mattered not. The finest type of love does not make demands upon that which it worships. He could keep her still by the same means as he had retained her all along, but his mode of thought had changed somewhat. A deeper love had grown out of the old tempestuous, tyrannous thing. It were better to give than to receive.

He watched her shaking the washing-pan in the water, her clear-cut face intent on the task at hand, and her hair glinting in the sunshine. She came splashing through the water with the pan in her hands.

"Look—something glitters there!"

He took it from her and gave one glance at the contents—a small heap of black and yellow.

Then he laughed loudly.

"Then it isn't——" she commenced.

He ceased to laugh as he probed the dust in the pan. The whole thing was so miraculous to him, he could scarcely find expression.

"You've found it, Angela," he said. "It's gold—real high-grade ore. You've dealt a straight flush at the last hand."

"But it doesn't look like gold!"

"That black stuff ain't gold, it's magnetic ore. Gee, wash some more dirt. This looks like Eldorado!"

He flung down his pack and started shoveling out more gravel from the hole. In the meantime Angela washed the pay-dirt and placed the residue in a handkerchief. Excitement grew as the work went forward. Lower down, the yield was enormous. The pile in the handkerchief grew to an enormous size. Taking no heed of time, the work went on until the declining sun called them from their labors.

Jim poured a pound or so of mercury into a tub of water, and submerged the results of their toil in it.

"You think it is gold?" she queried.

"Gold! Tons of it. I'll show you later. Come along and have some food."

An hour or two later Jim brought from the tub the amalgam formed by the combination of the pan gold-dust with the mercury. This was squeezed through a bearskin, the process segregating the gold and depositing the mercury back into the tub.

What little mercury remained in the glittering mass was evaporated out in a shovel over the camp-fire.

For the first time Angela realized why the gold-miner, once successful, could never rid himself of the fever. All the bitter disappointments, pessimism, and misery vanished in the presence of that sizzling mass in the shovel. It was difficult to believe that here, dug from the frozen earth, was the thing for which men suffered, sinned, and died.

Jim seized the gold nugget with his leathern hands and tossed it into the air, caught it again, and dropped it into his hat.

"Angela, you're right. We're bursting with wealth! There ain't bin nothin' like this since that guy found Bonanza Creek. And now I've got to git to Dawson."

"Dawson!"

"Yep. It ain't ours yet. I've got to stake claims—one for you and one for me."

"Then I'll come too."

"Nope. Any prowling broiler might bunch in and take a fancy to this pitch. You jest sit tight. I'll be back to-morrow morning."

"But you can't get to Dawson and back in one night."

"Can't I? Jest watch my smoke. I'll get the claims registered and yank a man up here from the Syndicate. We'll sure sell out and save digging. We'll come down the river. You ain't skeered of stoppin' alone?"

She laughed at his serious question, and watched him making ready for the journey. In a few minutes he had washed, shaved, and put on a pair of walking boots. He turned and nodded and went off with huge strides.

She continued to sit by the fire, no longer wrestling with the future. In that unexpected moment of wonderful luck, she had seen the future clear-cut as it affected her. The pendulum swung the other way now—she meant to leave Alaska with the least possible delay.



CHAPTER XXIII

DEPARTURE

She arose in the morning from dreams that were strangely mixed, to find that the good fortune was no part of the dream, but a reality. Singing she lighted a fire and prepared a more than usually appetizing breakfast to celebrate the occasion.

She estimated that if Jim found the Registrar and the official of the Mining Syndicate early in the morning, he would arrive there about midday. She laughed amusedly as she thought of him and his inflexible will. She imagined him in Dawson, yanking the official out of his office and hustling him down the river at enormous speed.

The morning passed on leaden wings and no boat appeared on the river. Impatiently she climbed the highest part of the bank and looked towards Dawson, but only a couple of Indian canoes came to view.

It was an hour later when two riders came tearing down the hill. She recognized Jim as the foremost of the two, and ran to meet him. He came thundering down upon her, leaned over, grasped her arms and hauled her up before him. The mount turned, reared high on its hind-legs until she shivered with fear, and then stood perfectly still. Jim laughingly helped her down and waited for the second man.

"Came on hosses," he explained, "because I calculated we'd git back easier that way. I've got the mining man more'n interested, I guess."

The latter arrived, perspiring freely. He shook hands with Angela and sat down to get cool.

"This husband, ma'am, of yours, beats the railroad," he ejaculated.

The horses were put on to some grazing ground, and Stevens, the mining engineer, went to examine the claims which Jim had meanwhile staked.

The examination proved to be a brief affair. Stevens, despite his professional calm, which was a necessary asset to his business, was obviously astonished at the richness of the claims.

"Wal, now to business. What do you want for 'em, Conlan?"

Jim nudged Angela.

"Call it a round million."

Stevens put up his hands in horror.

"My dear sir!"

"Wal, we'll sell elsewhere."

"One moment. You must consider the fact that up-river claims involve great expenditure in working."

"Cut all that," retorted Jim. "What do you offer?"

"I should recommend my company to buy at half a million."

"Nothin' doin'," ejaculated Jim. "Sorry you had the journey for nix. Anyway, we're glad to meet you."

Stevens gulped. He began to realize he was dealing with a "hard" man.

"See here," said Jim, "we're in a hurry, and will sacrifice a pile to git this deal fixed. But you gotta raise that offer."

"Very well, let us say $600,000."

"No."

"It's the best I can do."

Angela was about to advise Jim to accept, but he stopped her in time.

"You're going to pay $750,000, or negotiations cease right now. And at that you'll make a mint of money. I ain't breathed a word about this yere creek yet. When I do you'll see Dawson City turning out good and strong to stake claims. It's up to your people to stake the rest of it, if you pay up quick. Better say the word before there's a howling stampede down here."

That argument settled Stevens. His own quick mind had been turning on the same point.

"Call it a bargain," he said. "Better come right back now and get the transfer made."

Two hours later the party set off, Angela seated behind Jim on the big mare, and Stevens riding ahead.

Jim was fortunate in getting two rooms at the best hotel. Leaving Angela there, he went off with Stevens to clinch the deal. He came back later in the evening, looking a trifle downcast.

"Nothing wrong?" she queried.

"Nope. I got the money in American notes."

He pulled a big pile of notes from his pocket and placed them on the table, staring at them for a few moments in silence. Then he began to count them out.

"Better look after your own," he said. "Guess you'll find that correct—375,000 dollars."

Angela took them, then she leaned over the table and looked at him queerly.

"Some time ago and many times since you made an offer?"

His hands gripped the table.

"Eh?"

"You must remember—you—you said I was for purchase to anyone who would pay the price."

"I——" he commenced brokenly.

"You are not going back on your word?"

"O God! Angela, don't force this on me!"

"I mean to—I have found a buyer."

No sound escaped him for a few minutes, then he gasped:

"Who is—he?"

"Myself."

"What!"

"Yes. I want my freedom—and all that freedom means. Fifty thousand pounds you said—plus ten per cent. Here they are—275,000 dollars, with the exchange in your favor. Take them!"

She put the notes in the center of the table, but he made no attempt to touch them. They were still there an hour later when she came from her own room to fetch something she had left in his. He was still sitting there, staring at them.

"Jim, I'm going back to-morrow," she said. "The Topeka sails at eight o'clock. I shan't stay to breakfast. I thought I would let you know."

He nodded, then as she was leaving:

"Maybe you wouldn't mind me seeing you off?"

"I should be very glad," she said indifferently.

When she had gone he put on his hat and went into the streets. He had set his mind on a "jag" of the worst description—to drink and forget. He entered a saloon and mixed with the noisy throng. He commenced to lavish drinks on all and sundry, flinging notes around as though they were dirt; but the drink tasted like poison. The whole attempt ended in utter failure. Only a beast could get drunk while the memory of such a woman hung in his brain.

He wandered back to the hotel, sick at heart and hating the fast-approaching morrow with its heartache.... He had found gold, but he had lost—lost completely in the larger battle. He made no attempt to undress, but sat on his bed and groaned.

When the dawn came he made himself presentable and knocked at Angela's door. He found her clad for the journey, and several bags ready for transit. He thought, too, she seemed delighted at the prospects—delighted when his heart was breaking!

"I'll take these things," he said, and picked up the bags.

They made their way to the jetty off which the Topeka lay, with a gangway connecting. It was near the time of departure, and nearly all the passengers were aboard. A crowd of men stood on the shore, passing remarks to those who were leaving. Here and there a wet eye was in evidence, as some unfortunate devil saw his wife and child bound for the outer world—and himself left to the tender mercies of the Klondyke.

Jim walked over the gangway and put down the luggage. When he turned to Angela he saw no sign of regret. She seemed as calm and collected as she had been when first he met her.

"So this is the end of the great adventure," she said, smiling.

"Yep."

"And you—what do you intend doing?"

Jim gulped.

"I guess the Klondyke is good enough for me. See here, Angela, I bin pretty rough with you—but—it wasn't that I meant it that way. You gotta make allowances for me. I lived among animals for years. Maybe I kinder got like one, without quite knowing it."

"Perhaps you may make allowances for me, too. I was born in luxury, where hardship and suffering never entered, where flattery and gifts were the daily portion. I have never had a chance——"

"Cut that," he grunted. "You got grit and pluck and——"

"All aboard!" yelled a stentorian voice.

"They're off," said Jim. "I—— Good-bye, Angela. Maybe you'll remember—sometimes."

His eyes suddenly swam and he turned his head away.

"Good-bye!" she murmured, and held his hand.

"All aboard!" yelled the voice again.

A man began to move the gangway. The hand in Jim's suddenly clung on.

"I gotta go," he moaned; "they're pulling in the plank."

The steamer "honked" and began to move. He looked at her appealingly and she placed something into the palm of his hand.

"It's something I forgot to give you," she said softly.

He opened his hand and saw—a steamboat ticket.

"But——"

"I bought two," she said. "One for you and one for me; and most of your clothes are in those bags. Didn't you miss them?"



CHAPTER XXIV

CONCLUSION

It was past midnight, and they were sitting in the stern of the Topeka listening to the chopchop of the water under her flat bottom. Save for an occasional guffaw and curse, evidence of some nocturnal card-party, silence reigned aboard.

A full moon flooded the landscape, under which the lofty banks, and the great mountains beyond, shimmered in fantastic manner; wherein the river, mighty as it was, seemed dwarfed like unto a silver serpent, winding and turning down to the sea.

Since morning Jim had lived in some wonderful paradise, which even now seemed unstable, fugitive, and dreamlike.

"Angela, tell me it isn't a dream."

"It's no dream, dear."

"Ah!"

He nestled closer to her and found the soft small hand beneath the rug spread over their knees. There was no attempt on her part to withdraw it. Instead, she gripped the big muscular fingers caressingly.

"I can't get it straight yet," he muttered. "It was only this morning I was in hell. You're sure this ain't some game that'll land me back in the mud?"

She laughed merrily and pulled his arm round her waist.

"You dear, doubting man! If it's me you want I'm here with you. I'm substantial enough to be felt, aren't I?"

"But some things seem too good, and this is one of them. I had a hunch I'd never quite reach out over that pride of yours."

"I've no pride now, Jim, save pride of possession." Her eyes shone in the moonlight. "Back there in the wilderness I dreamed of this day, but it seemed so far away."

He nodded his head slowly.

"And yet you ran away?"

"It was on that last occasion that I found myself. When I uttered that appalling, shameful lie, I thought I hated you for your tyranny. It was only when I had spent a night on the trail alone that I saw how mean and low I had fallen...."

"No——"

"Yes. The tyranny was all imaginary—I saw that. I could think of no act on your part that wasn't kind, or for my good. I came back to find you ill, sick unto death. It seemed it was some punishment on my head.... Oh, everything changed in those few days. If you had died I think I should have died too, though I didn't love you—then."

He gave vent to a low hiss of incomparable joy.

"And you do now?" he asked.

Her rapturous eyes were sufficient answer.

"It beats me," he muttered. "It clean gets me wondering that you can love a chap like me. Once I thought you could, but then I didn't know you as you are—say, you're sure about this, ain't you?"

She gave him a hug.

"I agree with Natalie, no woman could help loving you—eventually."

"Oh, she said that, did she?"

"Yes."

"Wal, I guess love comes easy to a woman like that."

"And you don't like the love that comes easy?"

He made a grimace.

"Nothin' good ever comes easy. All the best things have to be fought for, won by long suffering and ordeal."

They sat in silence for a time, the heart of each overburdened with intense happiness. A light breeze swept up the river, soughing through the thick woods on the nearer bank.

"It was on such a night as this, back in England, that I first told you I loved you," he said.

"You can speak of that now without regret?"

"Sure. It was the finest thing I ever did. I thought I was happy then, but now——"

The unfinished sentence conveyed all he meant to convey. She turned her head until her full red lips came near his.

"You kissed me then, Jim. Won't you kiss me now?"

She felt his great heart throbbing against her bosom as he made haste to fulfill the invitation. If he had dallied in his love-making he lingered in his kissing. The whole world seemed to slide into oblivion in that first passionate love-kiss. She clung to him, wholly and eternally his, conscious of nothing but the close presence of the rough, strong man into whose adoring arms a kindly providence had thrown her.

"By God, I'll never let you go again!" he hissed.

"By God, I don't want to," she retorted, with a merry laugh.

"Over there's England," he cried, pointing away to the east.

"And over here's America—Colorado."

"Eh?"

"Are we not to have a honeymoon—we who were married but to-day?"

His eyes opened wide.

"You don't mean——?"

"I do. I want to spend it in your country, among your people, in the places that you love and will never forget. To me it is all the same, wherever we go—Paradise."

He took her head and pressed his cheek against hers.

"You glorious woman!"

"You wonderful man!"

THE END