Jasper controlled his laughter, then saw the dry humor of her eyes and

lips and let out his mirth.

"Why, sir," said Jane, "you'd be surprised at the foolishness of men.

Sometimes it seems that, just for pure contrariness, they want to

marry her that least wants them about. The day I came tramping into

this valley, I stopped for food at the ranch of an old bachelor down

yonder at the ford. And he invited me to be his wife while I was

drinking a glass of water from his well. He told me how much money he

had and said he'd start my stove for me winter mornings. There's a

good husband! And he was sure kind to me even when I told him 'no.' 'T

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was that same evening that the boy from Lazy-Y rode in and claimed me

for a cook. Mr. Yarnall is a trusting man. He took me and didn't ask

any questions. I told him I was 'Jane' and that I wasn't planning to

let him know more. He hasn't asked me another question since. He's a

gentleman, I figure it, and he's kind of quiet himself about what he

was before he came to this country. He's a man of fifty and he has

lots back of him only he's taken a fresh start." She sighed, "Folks

like you and Betty seem awfully open-hearted. It's living in cities, I

suppose, where every one knows every one else so well."

This astonishing picture of the candid simplicity of New York's social

life absorbed Jasper's attention for some time.

"Wouldn't you like to live in a city, Jane?"

She laughed her short, boyish "Hoo!" "It isn't what I would like, Mr.

Morena," she said. "Why, I'd like to see the world. I would like to be

that fellow who was condemned to wander all over the earth and never

to die. He was a Jew, too, wasn't he?"

Jasper flushed. People were not in the habit of making direct

reference to his nationality, and, being an Israelite who had early

cut himself off with dislike from his own people and cultivated the

society of Gentiles, "a man without a country," he was acutely

sensitive.

"The Wandering Jew? Yes. Where did you ever hear of him?"

"I read his story," she answered absently; "an awful long one, but

interesting, about lots of people, by Eugène Sue."

Jasper's lips fell apart and he stared. She had spoken unwittingly and

he could see that she was not thinking of him, that she was far away,

staring beyond her horse's head into the broad, sunset-brightened

west.




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