"Then don't grieve too much," said Jane, putting her hand on his arm.

"She will be happy."

"But what of me?" he cried pitifully, his voice and lips trembling like those of a little child in distress. "Shall I be happy?"

"No, not now," replied Jane steadily, striving to keep back her tears, "perhaps some day. But you will think more of her happiness than of your own. Love, you know, seeks to make happy rather than to be happy."

For some moments the man stood as if trying to understand what she had said. Then with a new access of grief and rage, he cried, "But my G.o.d!

My G.o.d! I want her. I cannot live without her. I could make her happy too."

"No, never," said Jane. "She loves him."

"Ach--so. Yes, she loves him, and I--hate him. He is the cause of this.

Some day I will kill him. I will kill him."

"Then she would never be happy again," said Jane, and her face was full of pain and of pity.

"Go away," he said harshly. "Go away. You know not what you say. Some day I shall make him suffer as I suffer to-day. G.o.d hears me. Some day."

He lifted his hands high above his head. Then with a despairing cry, "Oh, I have lost her, I have lost her," he turned from Jane and rushed into the woods.

Shaken, trembling and penetrated with pity for him, Jane made her way toward the office, near which she found Larry with the manager discussing an engineering problem which appeared to interest them both.

"Where's Ernest?" inquired Larry.

"He has just gone," said Jane, struggling to speak quietly. "I think we must hurry, Larry. Come, please. Good-bye, Mr. Steinberg." She hurried away toward the horses, leaving Larry to follow.

"What is it, Jane?" said Larry when they were on their way.

"Why didn't you tell me, Larry, that he was fond of Kathleen?" she cried indignantly. "I hurt him terribly, and, oh, it was awful to see a man like that."

"What do you say? Did he cut up rough?" said Larry.

Jane made no reply, but her face told its own story of shock and suffering.

"He need not have let out upon you, Jane, anyway," said Larry.

"Don't, Larry. You don't understand. He loves Kathleen. You don't know anything about it. How can you?"

"Oh, he will get over it in time," said Larry with a slight laugh.

Jane flashed on him a look of indignation. "Oh, how can you, Larry? It was just terrible to see him. But you do not know," she added with a touch of bitterness unusual with her.

"One thing I do know," said Larry. "I would not pour out my grief on some one else. I would try to keep it to myself."

But Jane refused to look at him or to speak again on the matter. Never in her sheltered life had there been anything suggesting tragedy. Never had she seen a strong man stricken to the heart as she knew this man to be stricken. The shadow of that tragedy stayed with her during all the remaining days of her visit. The sight of Kathleen's happy face never failed to recall the face of the man who loved her distorted with agony and that cry of despair, "I have lost her, I have lost her."

Not that her last days at the ranch were not happy days. She was far too healthy and wholesome, far too sane to allow herself to miss the gladness of those last few days with her friends where every moment offered its full measure of joy. Nora would have planned a grand picnic for the last day on which the two households, including Jack Romayne, who by this time was quite able to go about, were to pay a long-talked-of visit to a famous canyon in the mountains. The party would proceed to the canyon in the two cars, for Mr. Wakeham's car and Mr. Wakeham's person as driver had been constantly at the service of the Gwynnes and their guests during their stay at the farm.

"But that is our very last day, Nora," said Jane.

"Well, that's just why," replied Nora. "We shall wind up our festivities in one grand, glorious finale."

But the wise mother interposed. "It is a long ride, Nora, and you don't want to be too tired for your journey. I think the very last day we had better spend quietly at home."

Jane's eyes flashed upon her a grateful look. And so it came that the grand finale was set back to the day before the last, and proved to be a gloriously enjoyable if exhausting outing. The last day was spent by Nora in making preparations for her visit with Jane to Banff and in putting the final touches to such household tasks as might help to lessen somewhat the burden for those who would be left behind. Jane spent the morning in a farewell visit to the Waring-Gaunts', which she made in company with Kathleen.

"I hope, my dear Jane, you have enjoyed your stay with us here at Wolf Willow," said Mrs. Waring-Gaunt as Jane was saying good-bye.

"I have been very happy," said Jane. "Never in my life have I had such a happy time."

"Now it is good of you to say that," said Mrs. Waring-Gaunt. "You have made us all love you."

"Quite true," said her husband. "Repet.i.tion of the great Caesar's experience veni vidi vici, eh? What?"

"So say I," said Jack Romayne. "It has been a very real pleasure to know you, Jane. For my part, I shan't forget your visit to me, and the talks we have had together."

"You have all been good to me. I cannot tell you how I feel about it."

Jane's voice was a little tremulous, but her smile was as bright as ever. "I don't believe I shall ever have such a perfectly happy visit again."

"What nonsense, my dear," said Mrs. Waring-Gaunt. "I predict many, many very happy days for you. You have that beautiful gift of bringing your joy with you."

Jack accompanied them on their way to the road. "Kathleen and I are hoping that perhaps you may be able to come to our wedding. It will be very soon--in a few weeks."

"Yes, could you, Jane, dear?" said Kathleen. "We should like it above everything else. I know it is a long, long journey, but if you could."

"When is it to be?" said Jane.

"Somewhere about the middle of October." But Jane shook her head disconsolately. By that time she knew she would be deep in her university work, and with Jane work ever came before play.

"I am afraid not," she said. "But, oh, I do wish you all the happiness in the world. Nothing has ever made me so glad. Oh, but you will be happy, I know. Both of you are so lovely." A sudden rush of tears filled the deep dark eyes as she shook hands with Jack in farewell. "But," she cried in sudden rapture, "why not come to us for a day on your wedding trip?"

"That's a splendid idea." For a moment or two Jack and Kathleen stood looking at each other.

"Jane, we shall surely come. You may count on us," said Jack.

In the afternoon Mrs. Gwynne sent Jane away for a ride with Larry.

"Just go quietly, Larry," said his mother. "Don't race and don't tire Jane."

"I will take care of her," said Larry, "but I won't promise that we won't race. Jane would not stand for that, you know. Besides she is riding Ginger, and Ginger is not exactly like old Polly. But never fear, we shall have a good ride, Mother," he added, waving his hand gaily as they rode away, taking the coolee trail to the timber lot.

Larry was in high spirits. He talked of his work for the winter. He was hoping great things from this his last year in college. For the first time in his university career he would be able to give the full term to study. He would be a couple of weeks late on account of Kathleen's marriage, but he would soon make that up. He had his work well in hand and this year he meant to do something worth while. "I should like to take that medal home to Mother," he said with a laugh. "I just fancy I see her face. She would try awfully hard not to seem proud, but she would just be running over with it." Jane gave, as ever, a sympathetic hearing but she had little to say, even less than was usual with her.

Her smile, however, was as quick and as bright as ever, and Larry chattered on beside her apparently unaware of her silence. Up the coolee and through the woods and back by the dump their trail led them. On the way home they pa.s.sed the Switzer house.

"Have you seen Mr. Switzer?" said Jane.

"No, by Jove, he hasn't been near us for a week, has he?" replied Larry.

"Poor man, I feel so sorry for him," said Jane.