Terror-stricken and with sinking strength she made her way to the hotel

and slipped up to the parlor. Throwing off her wraps she went to the

window; Glover was coming up the street. There was only a moment in

which to collect herself. She hastened to her bedroom, wet her

forehead with cologne, and at her mirror her fingers ran tremblingly

over the coils of her hair. She caught up a fresh handkerchief for her

girdle, looked for an instant appealingly into her own eyes and closed

them to think. Glover rapped.

She met him with a smile that she knew would stagger his fond eyes.

She drugged his ear with a low-voiced greeting. "You are late,

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dearest."

He looked at her and caught her hands. As his head bent she let her

lips lie in his kiss, and let his arm find her waist as he kissed her

deeply again. They walked together toward the fireplace, and when she

saw the sadness of his face fear in her heart gave way to pity. "What

is it?" she whispered. "Tell me."

"The car has come with Doubleday and McGraw, Gertrude. The wreck was

terribly fatal. Morris Blood must have jumped from the cab. The track

I have told you is blasted there out of the cheek of the mountain, and

it's impossible to tell what his fate may be: but if he is alive I must

find him. There is a good hope, I believe, for Morris; he is a man to

squeeze through on a narrow chance. And Gertrude--I couldn't tell you

if I didn't think you had a right to know everything I know. It breaks

my heart to speak of it--McGraw is dead."

"I am so glad you told me the truth," she trembled, "for I knew it----"

"Knew it?" She confessed, hastily, how her anxiety had led her to his

office, and of the terrible shock she had brought on herself. "But now

I know you would not deceive me," she added; "that is why I love you,

because you are always honest and true. And do you love me, as you

have told me, more than all the world?"

"More than all the world, Gertrude. Why do you look so? You are

trembling."

"Have you come to say good-by?"

"Only for a day or two, darling: till I can find Morris, then I come

straight back to you."

"You, too, may be killed?"

"No, no."

"But I heard the man telling you you would go to your death if you

attempted to cross that hill with a plough. Be honest with me; you are

risking your life."

"Only as I have risked it almost every day since I came into the

mountains."

"But now--now--doesn't it mean something else? Think what it means to

me--your life. Think what will become of me if you should be killed in

trying to open that hill--if you should fall over a precipice as Morris

Blood has fallen and lies now probably dead. Don't go. Don't go, this

time. You have promised me you would leave the mountains, haven't you?

Don't risk all, dearest, all I have on earth, in an attempt that may

utterly fail and add one more precious life to the lives now

sacrificed. You do heed me, darling, don't you?"




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