ugly windows on one side. The list was as follows: a threadbare carpet, books, some excellent mezzo-tints in plain ebony frames, an exquisite white china clock flanked by a pair of old silver candlesticks of Corinthian design, some hard chairs and a most uncompromising sofa, a square table and upon it a square mahogany desk, a guitar, a dozen miniatures hanging in a straight row and above them a really beautiful picture of a lovely woman, Antonia's mother!

"I hope, Mr. Fawcett," said Arthur, in conclusion, "that you will not withhold from us the right hand of goodfellowship. I appeal to you as a personal friend of Charles Balfour, whose interests, I assure you, will not be imperiled by me. I met your daughter by accident yesterday, and introduced myself to her. What a lovely child she is!"

Fawcett's brow cleared. He had wronged his daughter, he admitted to himself, and had blundered in regard to these strangers. As friends of his employer they could not possibly be either ignored or snubbed. Accordingly Jack Remmington, who had stayed outside in the buggy, was summoned and a bottle of old cognac produced.

"I need some medicine," said Fawcett dryly. "Will you join me, gentlemen?"

Little's tact and the old cognac made easy a somewhat difficult situation and the talk became animated. Remmington discoursed freely and laughed. (His laugh was considered his strong point, his chief attraction!) He told a capital He told a capital story and capped it with another. Antonia, in her own bed-room, could distinguish the ringing tones of his voice, the crystal clarity of his laughter. She arrayed herself in her prettiest muslin frock and consulted anxiously her mirror. Surely her father would at least ask these delightful strangers to stay and

dine. In a fever of excitement she sought the kitchen and bade the Mexican cook- a stout, moonfaced lady who answered smilingly to the name of Dolores to be prepared for a fiesta. Then she selected the best table cloth in the linen closet, set some flowers in a bowl, and unpacked a few pieces of old silver. Polishing these assiduously, she heard a summons from her father.

"What is there for dinner?" "Broilers," she panted, " and a salad. And, papa, there is my fruit cake, my beautiful fruit cake, and Dolores will make some tortillas, and if you give her time, chiles relleños, and-"

"That will do," he said curtly. "Why are you prinked out like this?"

"Why," she stammered, "I thought, that is, 1-hoped. O papa," she clasped her hands,-" you will let me come into dinner, won't you?"

"No," he said emphatically, but not unkindly. "Little girls are out of place at such a time. Afterwards, perhaps, you may bring in the coffee, but-"

She did not await the conclusion of the sentence, but fled weeping to her room.

"He is cruel," she sobbed, flinging herself upon the bed. "Cruel, cruel, cruel! I—yes, I do - it may be wicked, but I don't care,-I hate him."

After dinner- a really capital dinner - Little spoke of Antonia.

"I hope we shall see Miss Fawcett," he said pleasantly. "She did me a kindness yesterday, and I have brought her this little phial of attar of rose which I bought in Bagdad. It's as sweet," he added tranquilly, "as the memory to me. of the service she rendered."

Remmington stared at his cousin and smiled. "Queer chap," he reflected. "He would n't give the phial to the girl without telling the old man, and he makes his pretty speech to the father instead of the daughter!"

"You are very kind, Mr. Little," he said absently. "I told Antonia to bring us the coffee. I will go and find her."

"What do you think of him?" asked Jack as the door closed behind their host.

"He impressed me as one who has weighed life and found it wanting." "The stamp of failure is on his face."

"A strong face too, Jack. Not a man to trifle with. Not a man lightly to offend. A bitter, vindictive enemy, I should say, and savage as a grizzly when aroused. That look on his face you speak of is the brand of Cain. It's an awful thing to wrong a fellow creature as he wronged that Russian and then to kill him."

"I suppose so," said Remmington. "He's still a very powerful man, an awkward customer. "

They heard his footstep in the passage, the heavy step of one who has bidden farewell to happiness and ambition, and were silent.

Their host entered the room followed by Antonia, dimpled and rosy as Aurora. She had taken heart, after the storm and stress of disappointment, and had prepared the coffee, which she poured gracefully from a handsome Queen Anne coffee-pot.

"La belle cafetière," murmured Jack to himself, as he sipped his coffee. "She takes after her mother, a Frenchwoman of the Faubourg; what arms, what a neck, what an instep!" Contemplating these charms he held his tongue. Meantime Arthur was presenting his phial of attar of roses. She received it prettily.

"Shows her breeding," thought Little, "a country miss might be expected to blush and gush. She does neither." He watched her later as she answered shyly some questions of Remmington. Presently she laughed a silvery laugh -and Jack laughed also, a delightful duet. Little glanced at Valerian Fawcett. He, too, was watching his daughter, with compressed lips and a deep, vertical line between his black brows. The man was trying to resolve a problem. Given, a beautiful woman, a lonely cattle ranch, and a dishonored father. Find a husband! Would either of these New Yorkers, bristling, of course, with the traditions and prejudices of an ancient family, take to his arms as wife the daughter of an outlaw?

When the young men had driven away, (after many protestations of amity on their part and a cordial invitation to dine in return at the house on the knoll,) Fawcett lifted abruptly the curtain which had veiled from Antonia's eyes his unhappy past. Very curtly and incisively, after his own fashion, he told the story of his life. The girl listened breathlessly, full of pity and sympathy which found outward expression in tender glances and tearful ejaculations.

"Because that heartless scoundrel," concluded Fawcett; "because that base knave, that savage beast, "he ground out the epithets, and Antonia, who had never seen her impassive father so moved, trembled, "that Tartar cur, rushed blindly upon the point of my rapier, I was cut; ostracised; hounded - aye, hounded out of New York, bankrupt in everything save your mother's love!"

Antonia was crying silently; the large tears trickling unheeded down her cheeks.

"I married her the day I left prison, but the shame and disgrace killed her. Of all my so-called friends one only

remained loyal, Charles Balfour. He urged me to come here and live the scandal down. But God Almighty!

such scandals are never lived down. I worked like a slave for Balfour. His income from this property has doubled, yes trebled, since I took hold of it. And I shall stay here till I die. Do you think I could return to the world and see men pointing and whispering, 'There's Fawcett, who murdered Sergius Patoff'? Never! But you, Antonia, "his voice sank, "what shall I do with you?"

She crept to his side, poor child, and slipped her small hand into his. He crushed it convulsively and let it drop.

"I shall stay here with you," she said simply.

Her father was silent. Presently he said, "Antonia, I'm going to speak plainly. As regards Mr. Little and his cousin I've made an absurd blunder, but it may be retrieved. The opportunity of your life has come. It must be seized. Little has taken an extraordinary fancy to you. He's sickly; true and not likely to make old bones, but I like him vastly better than the other fellow. Now I don't ask you to fling yourself at this man's head, but I beg you to remember that he 's very rich, and — which scores heavily with me a gentleman."

"He's dying!"

"Not a bit of it. He'll pick up his strength in this climate. The cousin is handsome enough to turn any girl's head, but for Heaven's sake don't entangle yourself with him. A fool, remember, buys experience, but the wise borrow it. Men of Remmington's stamp are entirely selfish. Take my word for that! Don't throw yourself away on him, — that's all."

She kissed him timidly, and stole from the room.

Valerian Fawcett sighed and frowned.
Why is it?" he murmured to him-

66

self, glancing at the picture of his wife, "why is it that women nine times out of ten marry the wrong man? What did her mother see in Sergius Patoff? Nothing but his good looks, till it was too late. Well-I've warned Antonia!"

Meantime the girl was sitting by the pool, smiling happily. Presently she pulled from her pocket the phial of attar of rose, and inhaled its fragrance.

"How kind he is," she thought, “but—”

Her fancy strayed no further. She blushed and laughed!

IV.

THE year began to wane. Sultry September passed, and warm October gave place to cool November. The first showers fell; and a tender green gleamed faintly upon the foothills; and the mountain springs, sun-dried for many a month, purled forth a paean of praise. An enchanting freshness lingered everywhere. The nights on the Cuyama plains were ever cool (even at mid-summer one needed a blanket), but now the days were cool also. The dry, crisp air was charged with mysterious, healing properties, which commenced forthwith their mild, assuasive processes, restoring and renewing wasted tissues, revitalizing the blood, quickening imperceptibly the languid pulse, invigorating mind and body. Arthur Little inhaled this subtle medicine and rejoiced. He felt within him a new life, new energies, new ambitions. He looked in his mirror and beheld - a new man! Then he journeyed to San Lorenzo and interviewed. his doctor.

ously.

Certainly. Not today, perhaps, but

in three months. One lung will recover entirely. The other," he pursed his lips and shook his head. "Well, Mr. Little, the woods here are full of one-lunged men! But stick to the ranch, sir. Take no chances."

Little returned, with a grateful heart, to La Cuyama. As he drove slowly through tortuous cañons, across rocky divides, through smiling valleys and fruitful mesas, ever ascending to what seemed to him "a purer ether, a diviner air," he told himself again and again that the lines of his life had fallen in pleasant places. The bevies of quail, the rabbits scuttling through the brush, the buzzards sailing idly in a cloudless sky, the scream of the blue jays, the lowing of the distant herds, the fragrance of pines and herbs,sage, thyme, and tarweed,-these things, animate and inanimate, filled his soul with delight and thanksgiving. He decided to live here, here where God, in his infinite goodness, had given him health and strength, a portion of each year. He would buy, by the advice of Fawcett, a league of land and make a home, a home for himself and Antonia!

He loved her. She had occupied his heart from the moment she touched, with compassionate fingers, his poor face. Since then he had had abundant opportunities of studying her intently. Even her faults, the faults of a generous, outspoken nature, endeared her to him. Believing his malady to be past mending, he had kept his secret well, but now with the doctor's permission - he swore to do all that became a man to woo and win her.

When he reached home late in the afternoon, hot and dusty with travel, he inquired for Remmington. The Chinaman (who acted as valet and was busy

"He go see small-foot," - Ah Foo alluded to Antonia," he heap likee small-foot. I know. Pretty soon they marry. I think so. Jack, heap fine man, he kissee girl, lotsy, lotsy times. I see him."

"That will do," said Little quietly. "You can go, Foo, I don't need you."

Ah Foo glanced at him from the corner of his almond eyes.

"He likee girl, too," he muttered. "Girl all same damfool, she likee wrong man. Jack, big, strong, heap fine, but — no good!"

Arthur bathed, and lighting a cigar, sat down upon the porch. He smoked tranquilly, his eyes resting upon the distant horizon where the jagged peaks of the San Emigdio Mountains cut sharply the opalescent sky.

"Fool," he murmured once or twice. "Blind fool!"

At sundown the night wind rushed boisterously up the valley, rattling the dying leaves of the cottonwoods and white-oaks. Little shivered. He ought to go in. A sudden chill was more to be feared than the fangs of a rattlesnake. But he lingered, smoking and thinking, until Remmington rode up and overwhelmed him with greetings.

After dinner they sat in the parlor. Jack lighted the fire and Ah Foo staggered in with an armful of aromatic pine cones. By the cheery blaze of these the cousins talked, Little waiting impatiently for the inevitable confession, and waiting in vain. Finally, chafing at the suspense, he threw out these tentacula.

"You've sometimes thought of marriage, Jack? Eh?"