The others joined them, and Boyd made his adieus; but in leaving he bore with him a weight of doubt and uneasiness in strange contrast with the buoyancy he had felt upon his arrival.

Willis Marsh, on the contrary, lost no time in emerging from his taciturn mood upon Boyd's departure, and seemed filled with even more than his accustomed optimism. Whatever had been the cause of his transitory depression, he could not fail to reflect that his fortunes had been singularly fair of late; and now that the other man was out of the way, Miss Wayland, for the first time in his acquaintance, began to display a lively interest in his affairs, which made his satisfaction complete. She questioned him closely regarding his work and habits in the North, letting down her reserve to such an unparalleled extent that when Mr. Wayland at last excused himself and retired to the library, Marsh felt that the psychological moment had arrived.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MILDRED CEASED PLAYING AND SWUNG ABOUT--"WHAT DO YOU MEAN?"]

"This has been a day of triumphs for me," he stated, "and I am anxious to crown it with even a greater good-fortune."

"Don't be greedy," the girl cautioned.

"That is man's nature."

She laughed lightly. "Having used my poor, yielding parent for your own needs, you now wish to employ his innocent child in the same manner. Is there no limit to your ambition?"

"There is, and I can reach it with your help."

"Please don't count on me; I am the most disappointing of creatures."

But he disregarded her words. "I hope not; at any rate, I must know."

"I warn you," she said.

"Nevertheless, I insist; and yet--I don't quite know how to begin. It isn't a new story to you perhaps--what I am trying to say--but it is to me, I can a.s.sure you--and it means everything to me. I don't even have to tell you what it is--you must have seen it in my eyes. I--I have never cared much for women--I am a man's man, but--"

"Please don't," she interrupted, quietly. But he continued, unheeding:

"You must know that I love you. Every man must love you, but no man could love you more than I do. I--I could make a lot of romantic avowals, Miss-- Mildred, but I am not an adept at such things. You can make me very happy if--"

"I am sorry--"

"I know. What I have said is trite, but my whole heart is in it. Your father approves, I am quite sure, and so it all rests with you."

For the first time the girl realized the deadly earnestness of the man and felt the unusual force of his personality, which made it seem no light matter to refuse him. He took his disappointment quietly, however, and raised himself immensely in her estimation by his graceful acceptance of the inevitable.

"It is pretty hard on a fellow," he smiled, "but please don't let it make any difference in our relations. I hope to remain a welcome visitor and to see as much of you as before."

"More, if you wish."

"I begin to understand that Mr. Emerson is a lucky chap." He still smiled.

She ignored his meaning, and replied: "Boyd and I have been the closest of friends for many years."

"So I have been told," and he smiled at her again, in the same manner.

Somehow the smile annoyed her--it seemed to savor of self-confidence. When he bade her good-bye an hour later he was still smiling.

Mr. Wayland was busy over some rare first edition, recently received from his English collector, when she sought him out in the library. He looked up to inquire:

"Has Willis gone?"

"Yes. He sent you his adieus by me." A moment later she added: "He asked me to marry him."

"Of course," nodded the magnate, "they all do that. What did you say?"

"What I always say."

"H'm!" He tapped his eyegla.s.ses meditatively upon the bridge of his high- arched nose. "You might do worse. He suits me."

"I have no doubt he could hold the millions together. In fact, he is the first one I have seen of whose ability in that line I am quite certain.

However--" She made a slight gesture of dismissal.

"I hope you didn't offend him?"

She raised her brows.

"Forgive me. I might have known--" He stared at the page before him for a moment. "You have a certain finality about you that is almost masculine.

They never return to the charge--"

"Oh yes," she demurred. "There is Alton Clyde, for instance--"

Mr. Wayland dismissed Clyde with an inarticulate grunt of contempt which measured that young man's claim to consideration more comprehensively than could a wealth of words.

"I would think it over if I were you," he advised. Then he pondered. "If you would only change your mind, occasionally, like other girls--"

"I have changed my mind to-night--since Mr. Marsh left."

"Good!" he declared, heartily.

"Yes. I have decided to go to Kalvik with you."

On that very night, in a little, snow-smothered cabin crouching close against the Kalvik bluffs, another girl was seated at a piano. Her slim, white fingers had strayed upon the notes of a song which Boyd Emerson had sung. In her dream-filled eyes was the picture of a rough-garbed, silent man at her shoulder, and in her ears was the sound of his voice. Clear to the last melting note she played the air, and then a pitiful sob shook her. She bowed her golden head and hid her face in her arms, for a memory was upon her, a forgotten kiss was hot upon her lips, and she was very lonely.

CHAPTER XIII

IN WHICH CHERRY MALOTTE BECOMES SUSPICIOUS

At the hotel Emerson found Clyde and Fraser in Balt's room awaiting him.

They were noisy and excited at the success of the enterprise and at the prospect of immediate action.

Quoth "Fingerless" Fraser: "It has certainly lifted a load off my mind to put this deal through."

Emerson was forced to smile. "Now that you have succeeded," said he, "what next?"

"Back to the Coast. This town is a b.u.m."