woman had been reserved for him.  He had dared to let her know he believed so; he had taken advantage of her helpless situation, on an acquaintance of two days.  His own color began to burn through the tan.  “You were right,” he said at last, very gently, “I never can forgive myself.  I can’t understand it!” he broke out then, “if you had been his wife, David Weatherbee would have been safe with us here, to-day.”

Miss Armitage started.  She gave him a quick, searching glance, then sank down upon the rock.  She seemed suddenly exhausted, like a woman who, hard-pressed in the midst of peril, finds unexpectedly a friendly threshold.

Tisdale looked off to the brazen slopes of Cerberus.  It was the first time he had censured Weatherbee for anything, and suddenly, while he brooded, protesting over that one paramount mistake, he felt himself unaccountably responsible.  He was seized with a compelling desire to, in some way, make it up to her.  “Come,” he said, “you mustn’t lose heart; to-morrow, when you are rested, it will look easier.  And the question of ready money need not trouble you.  Mrs. Weatherbee has reached the point where she has got to hedge on the future.  Make her an offer of five thousand dollars in yearly payments, say, of fifteen hundred.  She’ll take it.  Then, if you agree, I will arrange a loan with a Seattle bank.  I should allow enough margin to cover the first reclamation expenses.  Your fillers of alfalfa and strawberries would bring swift returns, and before your orchards came into bearing, your vineyards would pay the purchase price on the whole tract.”

He turned to her, smiling, and surprised a despair in her face that went to his heart.

“I thought, I hoped you meant to buy this land,” she said.

“So I did, so I do, unless you decide to.  And if you undertake this project, I pledge myself to see you through.”  His voice caught a pleading undernote.  “It rests with you.  Above every one it rests with you to even things for Weatherbee.  Isn’t that clear to you?  Look ahead five years; see this vale green and shady with orchards; the trees laden with harvest; imagine his wife standing here on this bench, surveying it all.  See her waking to the knowledge she has let a fortune slip through her hands; see her, the purchase price spent, facing the fact that another woman built her faith on David Weatherbee; had the courage to carry out his scheme and found it a bonanza.  That is what is going to make her punishment strike home.”

Miss Armitage rose.  She stood a moment watching his face, then, “How you hate her!” she said.

“Hate?” Tisdale’s laugh rang short and hard.  “Well, I grant it; hate is the word.  I hate her so much I’ve known better than go where she was; I’ve avoided her as an electrician avoids charged wire.  Still, if I had found myself in Weatherbee’s place; if I had made his mistake and married her, she should have felt my streak of iron.  I might have stayed in