because it was no longer HIS. It had become a part of the great world,
which four years ago he and his brother had put aside, and in which, as
two self-devoted men, they walked alone. More than that, he believed
he had acquired some understanding of the temptations that assailed
his brother, and the poor little vanities of the "Marysville Pet" were
transformed into the blandishments of a Circe. Rand, who would have
succumbed to a wicked, superior woman, believed he was a saint in
withstanding the foolish weakness of a simple one.


He did not resume his work that day. He paced the mountain, anxiously
awaiting his brother's return, and eager to relate his experiences. He
would go with him to the dramatic entertainment; from his example and
wisdom, Ruth should learn how easily temptation might be overcome. But,
first of all, there should be the fullest exchange of confidences
and explanations. The old rule should be rescinded for once, the old
discussion in regard to Mornie re-opened, and Rand, having convinced his
brother of error, would generously extend his forgiveness.

The sun sank redly. Lingering long upon the ledge before their cabin, it
at last slipped away almost imperceptibly, leaving Rand still wrapped in
revery. Darkness, the smoke of distant fires in the woods, and the faint
evening incense of the pines, crept slowly up; but Ruth came not. The
moon rose, a silver gleam on the farther ridge; and Rand, becoming
uneasy at his brother's prolonged absence, resolved to break another
custom, and leave the summit, to seek him on the trail. He buckled on
his revolvers, seized his gun, when a cry from the depths arrested him.
He leaned over the ledge, and listened. Again the cry arose, and this
time more distinctly. He held his breath: the blood settled around his
heart in superstitious terror. It was the wailing voice of a woman.