"You don't--" He could not bring himself to speak the word.

"Yes, Robert. I love him."

It took all the courage she possessed. But she owed it to him and to herself.

"I don't believe it!" he blurted out. "I won't believe it! You are not yourself, Marion. You are worn out. You have been fascinated. He's strange--different--new to you. It's your imagination, not your heart, that's been--won. He's led you on by--"

"No!" she broke in. "You're quite wrong. It's not his fault at all. He doesn't love me."

"Of course not. I know that kind of fellow. You didn't need to leave New York to find plenty like him. He only wants to--"

"Robert!" she cried warningly.

"Then what--"

"He hates me, I think," she replied sadly.

"Then why in the world do you--" He was floundering. "What do you know about him, anyhow? Who is he? Where did he come from?"

That sounded so much like Seth Huntington that she smiled, thinking of the picture that he must have drawn for Hillyer.

"I know very little about him," she replied quietly. "But I know that Cousin Seth is mistaken."

"But how do you know he hates you?"

"He made that clear in the beginning--not me alone, but all women. He shunned me. He told me twice that I must not speak to him again. And this afternoon, while you waited for me--" Her voice broke, with a laugh that was half a sob. "He--finished it."

"He was rude to you!" he cried. "I'll make him--"

She put her hand quickly on his arm.

"No. He was very gentle--and kind."

"What did he say?" Hillyer demanded, almost imperatively.

"He said that--he couldn't leave the ranch just now, so I'd better go back to New York--at once."

"He did, did he?" cried Hillyer angrily, his chivalry for the moment dominant. But then he saw suddenly another meaning, for him, in the brutal ultimatum; and his face brightened. "That settles it, doesn't it?" he exclaimed eagerly.

"Settles what?"

"Why, you'll go with me!"

"No."

"What do you mean?"

"I told you I'm not ready yet."

There was a silence while Hillyer, buoyed up with new hope, made some hurried calculations.

"Then listen, Marion!" he said. "I'll go to Denver, and come back in a week or ten days. I'll arrange things so that I can stay here until--"

"Oh, Robert! You won't understand."

He stared at her blankly.

"You're making it so hard for me!" she cried pathetically. "I've told you already that I cannot marry you."

"But why! Why!" he persisted.

"Because I haven't myself--I've nothing to give."

"But how can you love him after he has--"

"Told me he does not love me?" she said, taking the words from him.

"Then how can you love me when I have said the same thing to you?"

He struggled desperately, in deep water.

"It's different, Marion. You don't hate me--I think. You say you like me. That's enough now--to start with. It's all I ask. I'll try to make you happy, and I'll wait for love. You shall have all the things in the world you want. I'm making scads of money. Everything I touch just rolls up into bank notes. I want you to come and spend all that money for me. Remember, Marion, your father wished it. If he were here now--"

"Yes!" she put in with sudden fire. "If he were here now do you know what he would say to me?"

He felt that he had blundered, and made no reply.

"He would say to me--Oh, I can hear him now! He would say: 'Follow your heart, daughter. Love's the only thing in the world that really counts.'"

She smiled triumphantly, but wistfully. And Hillyer was still silent.

"Daddy wasn't very good at quoting Scripture," she went on musingly, "but he used to say: 'Better a dinner of herbs where love is than a stalled ox and hatred therewith.'"

"But there isn't any hatred therewith!" cried Hillyer desperately. "I love you, Marion, and if you don't love me--you don't hate me. So there's more than half of it, and--can't we trust the future a little bit?"

"No."

"But what are you going to do?" he asked, shifting his line of attack.

"I don't know," she replied, with a helpless gesture.

"You can't go back to New York without money enough to take your proper place in the world. Of course, if you'll let me, I'll--"

"Robert!" she interrupted sharply.

"Well, I mean it just the same!" he replied stoutly. "I've got to take care of you, and if you won't--See here, Marion! I simply refuse to be turned down this way. I'll not take your stubborn, whimsy little 'no' for my answer. You're on my hands, thank G.o.d! whether you like it or not. Maybe you won't love me. Maybe you won't marry me.

We'll see about that! But I'm going to look after you--I'm going to take care of you, just the same--and you can just stop tightening those lips--they're not as red as they ought to be--and you can make up your mind that you can boss me so far and no farther."

Marion smiled at him indulgently, but gratefully, and even a little proudly; for she had been very proud of him in the days when only friendship was spoken of. She did not in the least resent his speech; but neither did she answer him.