"You can laugh, Bill," she cried. "That's what they're all doing.

They're laughing at--the old superst.i.tion. But--it's not a laughing matter to folks who think right along the lines of the essence of our human natures, which is superst.i.tion. The worst of it is I've brought it about. I told the meeting about a stupid argument about the building of the church which Billy and Dy had. Billy wants the tree for a ridge pole, because the church is disproportionately long. Well, I told the folks because I thought they wouldn't hear of the tree being cut. But Mrs. Day rounded on me, and the meeting followed her like a flock of sheep. Still, I wasn't done by that. I've been canva.s.sing the village since, and, would you believe it, they all say it's a good job to cut the tree down. Maybe it'll rid the place of its evil influence, and so rid us of the attentions of the police. I tell you, Billy and Dy are perfect fools, and the folks are all mad.

And I'm the greatest idiot ever escaped a home for imbeciles. There!

That's how I feel. It's--it's scandalous."

Bill laughed good-naturedly.

"Say, cheer up, Kate," he cried. "You surely don't need to worry any.

It can't hurt you. Besides----." He broke off abruptly, and, sitting up, looked out of the window. "Say, here comes Fyles." He almost leaped out of his seat.

"What's the matter?" demanded Kate sharply. Then she looked around at her sister, who had moved away from the table.

Bill laughed again in his inconsequent fashion.

"Matter?" he cried. "Nothin's the matter, only--only----. Say, did you ever have folks get on your nerves?"

"Plenty in Rocky Springs," said Kate bitterly.

Bill nodded.

"That's it. Say, I've just remembered I've got an appointment that was never made with somebody who don't exist. I'm going to keep it."

Helen laughed, and clapped her hands.

"Say, that's really funny. And I've just remembered something I'd never forgotten, that's too late to do anyway. Come on, Bill, let's go and see about these things, and," she added slyly, "leave Kate to settle Fyles--by herself."

"Helen!"

But Kate's remonstrance fell upon empty air. The lovers had fled through the open doorway, and out the back way. Nor had she time to call them back, for, at that moment, Fyles's horse drew up at the front door, and she heard the officer leap out of the saddle.

"Have you made your peace with--headquarters?"

Kate and Stanley Fyles were standing out in the warm shade of the house. The woman's hand was gently caressing the velvety muzzle of Peter's long, fiddle face. It was a different woman talking to the police officer from the bitter, discontented creature of a few minutes ago. For the time, at least, all regrets, all thoughts of an unpleasant nature seemed to have been lost in the delight of a woman wholesomely in love.

As she put her question her big eyes looked up into the man's keen face with just the faintest suspicion of raillery in their glowing depths. But her rich tones were full of a genuine eagerness that belied the look.

The man was good to look upon. The strength of his face appealed to her, as did the big, loose shoulders and limbs, as strength must always appeal to a real woman. Her love inspired a subtle tenderness, even anxiety.

"I hope so, but--I don't know yet."

Fyles made no attempt to conceal his doubts. Somehow the official side of the man was becoming less and less sustained before this woman, who had come to occupy such a big portion of his life.

"You mean you've sent in your report, and are now awaiting the--verdict?"

Fyles nodded.

"Like so many of the criminals I have brought before the courts," he said, bitterly.

"And the chances?"

"About equal to those of a convicted felon."

The smile died out of Kate's eyes. They were full of regretful sympathy.

"It's pretty tough," she said, turning from him. "It isn't as if you had made a mistake, or neglected your duty."

"No, I was beaten."

The man turned away coldly. But his coldness was not for her.

"Is there no hope?" Kate asked presently, in a low tone.

Fyles shrugged.

"There might be if I had something definite to promise for the future.

I mean a chance of--redeeming myself."

Kate made no answer. The whole thing to her mind seemed impossible if it depended upon that. The thought of this strong man being broken through the police system, for no particular fault of his own, seemed very hard. Harder now than ever. She strove desperately to find a gleam of light in the darkness of his future. She would have given worlds to discover some light, and show him the way. But one thing seemed impossible, and he--well, he only made it harder. His very decision and obstinacy, she considered, were his chief undoing.

"If you could reasonably hold out a prospect to them," she said, her dark eyes full of thought--strong and earnest thought. "Can't you?"

She watched him closely. She saw him suddenly straighten himself up, throwing back his powerful shoulders as though to rid himself of the burden which had been oppressing him so long.

He drew a step nearer. Kate's heart beat fast. Then her eyes drooped before the pa.s.sion shining in his.

"Maybe you don't realize why I am here, Kate," he said, in a low thrilling voice, while a warm smile grew in his eyes. "You see, weeks ago I made a mistake, a bad mistake--just such as I have made here.

The liquor was run under my nose, while I--well, I just stood around looking on like some fool babe. That liquor was--for this place. After that I asked the chief to give me a free hand, and to allow me to come right along, and round this place up. My object was twofold. I knew I had to make good, and--I knew you were here. Guess you don't remember our first meeting? I do. It was up on the hillside, near the old pine.

I've always wanted to get back here--ever since then. Well, I've had my wish. I'm here, sure. But I've not made good. The folks, here, have beaten me, and you--why, I've just contrived to make you my sworn adversary. Failure, eh? Failure in my work, and in my--love."

For an instant the woman's eyes were raised to his face. She was trembling as no physical fear could have made her tremble. Peter nuzzled the palm of her hand with his velvety nose, and she quickly lowered her gaze, and appeared to watch his efforts.

After a moment's pause the man went on in a voice full of a great pa.s.sionate love. All the official side of him had gone utterly. He stood before the woman he loved baring his soul. For the moment he had put his other failures behind him. He wanted only her.

"I came here because I loved you, Kate. I came here dreaming all those dreams which we smile at in others. I dreamed of a life at your side, with you ever before me to spur me on to the greater heights which I have thought about, dreamed about. And all my work, all my striving, was to be for you. I saw visions of the days, when, together, we might fill high office in our country's affairs, with an ambition ever growing, as, together, we mounted the ladder of success. Vain enough thought, eh? Guess it was not long before I brought the roof of my castle crashing about my ears. I have failed in my work a second time, and only succeeded in making you my enemy."

Kate's eyes were shining. A great light of happiness was in them. But she kept them turned from him.

"Not enemy--only adversary," she said, in a low voice.

The man shook his head.

"It is such a small distinction," he said bitterly. "Antagonists. How can I ever hope that you can care for me? Kate, Kate," he burst out pa.s.sionately, "if you would marry me, none of the rest would matter. I love you so, dear. If you would marry me I should not care what the answer from headquarters might be. Why should I? I should then have all I cared for in the world, and the world itself would still be before us. I have money saved. All we should need to start us. My G.o.d, the very thought of it fills me with the l.u.s.t of conquest. There would be nothing too great to aspire to. Kate, Kate!" He held his arms out toward her in supplication.

The woman shook her head, but offered no verbal refusal. The man's arms dropped once more to his sides, and, for a moment, the silence was only broken by the champing of Peter's bit. Then once more the man's eyes lit.

"Tell me," he cried, almost fiercely. "Tell me, had we not come into conflict over this man, Bryant, would--would it--could it have been different?" Then his voice grew soft and persuasive. "I know you don't dislike me, Kate." He smiled. "I know it, and you must forgive my--vanity. I have watched, and studied you, and--convinced myself. I felt I had the right to hope. The right of every decently honest man.

Our one disagreement has been this man, Bryant. I had thought maybe you loved him, but that you have denied. You do not? There is no one else?"