Nellie Townshead took the chair he drew out, and was glad that it was in the shadow, for Alton stood leaning against the window-casing looking down on her with grave respect and pity in his face.

"I am a little lame--as you may have heard," he said, as though to explain his attitude.

"Yes," said the girl, whose composure returned as she saw that he was temporizing. "I am sorry."

"Well," said Alton quietly, "so am I--especially just now--but I did not come to talk to you about my injury."

Nellie Townshead appeared very collected as she glanced in his direction, for she had a good courage, and had been taught already that when an issue is unavoidable it is better to face it boldly.

"One would scarcely have fancied that was your object."

"No," said Alton very quietly. "Now I am just a plain bush rancher, and don't know how to put things nicely, but I don't know that there's any disrespect in a straight question, and I came to ask if you would marry me."

The girl was mistress of herself, and the man's naive directness was in a fashion reassuring. She was also, for a moment, very angry.

"It is a little sudden, is it not?" she said. "Did I ever give you any cause for believing that I would?"

"No," said Alton, "I don't think you did."

Nellie Townshead afterwards wondered a little at her composure and temerity, but she fancied she knew what had prompted the man, and, because it hurt her horribly, all the pride she had came to her assistance, and in place of embarrassment she was sensible of a desire to test him to the uttermost.

"Then," she said, "one should have a reason for asking such a question, and, at least, something to urge in support of it."

Alton moved forward, and leaned over the back of her chair, where because he did most things thoroughly he attempted to lay one hand caressingly on her hair. Miss Townshead, however, moved her head suddenly, and the man drew back a pace with a flush in his face.

"It is very lonely up at the ranch, and I have begun to see that I have been missing the best of life. Mine is too grim and bare, and I want somebody to brighten and sweeten it for me."

The girl was very collected. What she had borne during the last few days had turned her gentleness into bitterness and anger. Thus it was, with a curious dispassionate interest she would have been incapable of under different circumstances, she continued to try the man, realizing that though it was no doubt unpleasant to him, there was one great reason which precluded the possibility of his suffering as he would otherwise have done.

"But you are going to live in the city now," she said.

"Yes," said Alton gravely. "That is why I want you more. You see I know so little, and there is so much you could teach me. I want somebody to lead me where I could not otherwise go, though I know it is asking a great deal while I can give so little."

This, the girl realized, was, though somewhat impersonal, wholly genuine. The tone of chivalrous respect rang true, and she could comprehend the half-instinctive straining after an ideal by one whose belief in her sex was, if slightly crude, almost reverential. It touched her, though she knew that to benefit him it could only be offered to one woman, and she was not that one.

"And that is all?" she said.

"Of course!" said Alton too decisively, because he remembered, as Miss Townshead quite realized, that the other reason must always remain hidden. This was also as balm to her pride, and there was a trace of a smile in her eyes.

"It is, as you appear to understand, very little."

"Well," said Alton, who seemed to take courage, "now when I see your meaning there is a trifle more."

Again he moved a pace, and the girl fancied he would have laid his hand upon her shoulder. "No," she said decisively.

Alton sighed, and his face became impassive, but it seemed to the girl that there was relief in it.

"I think I could be kind to you and make things smooth for you," he said very simply. "I should always look up to you, and I wouldn't ask for very much--only to see you happy."

He stopped apparently for inspiration, and Nellie Townshead smiled a little. "Do you think that last was wise?"

Alton turned towards her with a little glint in his eyes, and the girl, who knew his temperament, felt that she had gone far enough. He had borne it very well, and it seemed to her that other men might have handled the situation, which was difficult, less delicately.

"I asked you a question, and it seems to me that it still waits an answer."

The girl rose and stood looking at him with a little colour in her cheeks and a flash in her eyes, but there was that in her attitude which held Alton at a distance. "If you were not the man you are, and I was a little weaker, I should have said yes," she said. "As it is--there is nothing that would induce me to marry you."

It was almost dark now, and Nellie Townshead could not see her companion's face, but she was no longer careful to keep her own in the shadow, even when the radiance from the stove flickered about the room.

"Will you not think it over?" he said very quietly. "I know how unfit I am for you--and I am a cripple--but----"

The light was now more visible in Nellie Townshead's eyes, but her voice was gentle. "No," she said, "There are two very good reasons why it is impossible--and you know one of them. Now do you believe I do not know what brought you here to-day?"

"I think I have been trying to tell you," said Alton sturdily. "If you fancy it was anything else you are wrong."

The girl shook her head. "You are a good man, Harry Alton, but not a clever one. Only that it would have been a wrong to you, you would almost have persuaded me--by your silence chiefly. Still, you must go away, and never speak of this again."

Alton stood still a moment glancing at her with pity and a great admiration. The girl was good to look upon, he knew her courage, and now as she flung all that he could offer her away and stood alone and friendless with the world against her, but undismayed, all his heart went out to her, and what he had commenced from duty he could almost have continued from inclination.

"Please listen just a little, and I'll be quite frank," he said. "You told me there were two reasons."

Possibly the girl read what was passing in his mind, for she smiled curiously.

"I think you had better go--now--and leave me only a kindly memory of you. Do you think I should be content to take--the second place?" she said. "Nothing that you could tell me would remove one of the obstacles, and you will be grateful presently. When that time comes be wise, and don't ask for less than everything."

Alton said nothing further, and when his steps rang hollowly down the stairway the girl sat down and sighed. Then she laughed a curious little laugh and stopped to brush the tears from her eyes.

As it happened, while Nellie Townshead sat alone in the darkness Miss Deringham was writing a note to Alton. Spoiled sheets of paper were scattered about the table, and though there was nobody to see it the girl's face was flushed as she glanced down at the last one. The message it bore was somewhat laconic and ran, "We are going to the opera-house on Thursday, and as there is a place not filled I would like to see you there before you start for the ranges, if you know of no reason why you should not come."

She gave it to a maid, and sat still until she heard a door swing to, then rose swiftly and ran down the stairway. She met the maid at the foot of it, and said breathlessly, "I want to add something to the letter."

"It's too late, miss," said the maid, who was a recent importation from Britain. "I gave it John the Chinaman, and he went off trotting as usual. I couldn't overtake him."

Alice Deringham smiled a little, though her voice belied her as she said, "It is of no importance. I can write another."

She knew, however, that no second message she could send would repair what she had done, for Alton had timed his departure for the ranges next day, and several must elapse before Thursday came. He would, she also felt assured, not fail to come.

Miss Deringham was justified, for a few days later Seaforth stood waiting in the snow with a pack-horse's bridle in his hand, and several brawny men with heavy packs slung about them close by, when Tom of Okanagan drove into the clearing as fast as his smoking team could haul the jolting wagon.

"You can sling all those things down again," he said. "Thomson rode in with a wire from the railroad, and Harry's not coming."

"Not coming?" said Seaforth bewilderedly as he opened the message.

"We've no time to lose--now."

Then he crumpled the strip of paper angrily. "We'll push on slowly, boys, until he comes up with us, but you had better wait for him, Tom,"

he said, and added half aloud, "The devil take all women!"

Miss Deringham went to the opera-house on Thursday with a somewhat distinguished party, and though a storm of applause greeted the eminent English dramatist, and the play was a popular one, saw very little of him or the first act of it. Then when the glitter of lights filled the building as the curtain went down she looked about her with veiled expectancy. She knew Alton of Somasco, and that if he intended to keep the assignation he would then come when everybody could see him.