She stammered uncertainly till the humiliation and chagrin she had suffered this night swept over her again.  This town—­this crude, half-born mining-camp—­had turned against her, misjudged her cruelly.  The women were envious, clacking scandal-mongers, all of them, who would ostracize her and make her life in the Northland a misery, make her an outcast with nothing to sustain her but her own solitary pride.  She could picture her future clearly, pitilessly, and see herself standing alone, vilified, harassed in a thousand cutting ways, yet unable to run away, or to explain.  She would have to stay and face it, for her life was bound up here during the next few years or so, or as long as her uncle remained a judge.  This man would free her.  He loved her; he offered her everything.  He was bigger than all the rest combined.  They were his playthings, and they knew it.  She was not sure that she loved him, but his magnetism was overpowering, and her admiration intense.  No other man she had ever known compared with him, except Glenister—­Bah!  The beast!  He had insulted her at first; he wronged her now.

“Will you be my wife, Helen?” the man repeated, softly.

She dropped her head, and he strode forward to take her in his arms, then stopped, listening.  Some one ran up on the porch and hammered loudly at the door.  McNamara scowled, walked into the hall, and flung the portal open, disclosing Struve.

“Hello, McNamara!  Been looking all over for you.  There’s the deuce to pay!” Helen sighed with relief and gathered up her cloak, while the hum of their voices reached her indistinctly.  She was given plenty of time to regain her composure before they appeared.  When they did, the politician spoke, sourly: 

“I’ve been called to the mines, and I must go at once.”

“You bet!  It may be too late now.  The news came an hour ago, but I couldn’t find you,” said Struve.  “Your horse is saddled at the office.  Better not wait to change your clothes.”

“You say Voorhees has gone with twenty deputies, eh?  That’s good.  You stay here and find out all you can.”

“I telephoned out to the Creek for the boys to arm themselves and throw out pickets.  If you hurry you can get there in time.  It’s only midnight now.”

“What is the trouble?” Miss Chester inquired, anxiously.

“There’s a plot on to attack the mines to-night,” answered the lawyer.  “The other side are trying to seize them, and there’s apt to be a fight.”

“You mustn’t go out there,” she cried, aghast.  “There will be bloodshed.”

“That’s just why I must go,” said McNamara.  “I’ll come back in the morning, though, and I’d like to see you alone.  Good-night!” There was a strange, new light in his eyes as he left her.  For one unversed in woman’s ways he played the game surprisingly well, and as he hurried towards his office he smiled grimly into the darkness.

“She’ll answer me to-morrow.  Thank you, Mr. Glenister,” he said to himself.