so he may; and never was there a braver, truer wanderer than Priscilla of
Lonely Farm. Equipped with a great faith, a straight method of thinking,
and an ideal that never faded from her sight, she, by the help of the
Poor Property Man, found her place and her work awaiting her. Love, she
found, too--love that had to be tested by a man's sense of honour and a
woman's determination, but it survived and found its fulfilment before
the Shrine in the woods beyond Lonely Farm, where, as a little child,
Priscilla had set up her Strange God and given homage to it.

Harriet T. Comstock.




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS


"It was a beautiful thing, that dance, grotesque, pagan and yet divine"
_Frontispiece_

"'And now,' she cried, 'I'll keep my word to you. Here! here! here!' The
bottles went whirling and crashing on the rocks near the roadway"

"'You mean, by this device you will make me marry you! You'll blacken
my name, bar my father's house to me, and then you will be generous
and--marry me?'"

"In one of those marvellous flashes of regained consciousness, the man
upon the bed opened his eyes and looked, first at Travers, then at
Priscilla"