She made a step forward but faltered, staggered, and was obliged to lean
against the mountain for support. Stains of travel were on her dress;
lines of fatigue and pain, and traces of burning passionate tears, were
on her face; her black hair flowed from beneath her gaudy bonnet; and,
shamed out of his brutality, Rand placed his strong arm round her waist,
and half carrying, half supporting her, began the ascent. Her head
dropped wearily on his shoulder; her arm encircled his neck; her hair,
as if caressingly, lay across his breast and hands; her grateful eyes
were close to his; her breath was upon his cheek: and yet his only
consciousness was of the possibly ludicrous figure he might present to
his brother, should he meet him with Mornie Nixon in his arms. Not a
word was spoken by either till they reached the summit. Relieved at
finding his brother still absent, he turned not unkindly toward the
helpless figure on his arm. "I don't see what makes Ruth so late," he
said. "He's always here by sundown. Perhaps--"

"Perhaps he knows I'm here," said Mornie, with a bitter laugh.

"I didn't say that," said Rand, "and I don't think it. What I meant
was, he might have met a party that was picnicking here to-day,--Sol.
Saunders and wife, and Miss Euphemia--"

Mornie flung his arm away from her with a passionate gesture. "THEY
here!--picnicking HERE!--those people HERE!"

"Yes," said Rand, unconsciously a little ashamed. "They came here
accidentally."

Mornie's quick passion had subsided: she had sunk again wearily and
helplessly on a rock beside him. "I suppose," she said, with a weak