“Yes,” he stammered, “unless------” “The bone is broken, isn’t it?” “Yes; but you are young and your health is superb. That is everything.” A despairing look grayed her face, which then quickly reddened with anger and rebellion. Her host said nothing. He saw that she was competent to make the fight with herself without his aid; that her mind, though now disturbed by her suffering, was able to comprehend much that her condition meant, being obviously an uncommonly strong, clear mind, and that it would give to an acceptance of her position the philosophic view that was so much needed. He saw the hard, brave fight that she was making, and he had no fear for the outcome. Gradually he saw the contemplative expression of the eyes turned within, and the face grow gaunt and haggard under the strain. As slowly he saw her emerge from the depths into which he had thrust her, and from the very slowness of the victory, he knew that she had won. When again she looked into his face, he knew that her soul had been tried as it never had been before, and that she was stronger and better for it. And he knew that there was yet another trial awaiting her which perhaps she could not have borne had not she passed through this one. “Another thing,” she said, as earnestly as before; “when do you expect my father to return?” “Very soon--as soon as he----” “Evasion again,” she protested, a slight frown of impatience darkening her face; but it instantly disappeared, and her manner was appealing again. “Be my friend as well as my physician, Dr. Malbone. Please tell me the truth. I can bear it now.” The young man bowed his head in dejection. “Snow is still falling,” he said, “and doubtless many trees are across the road. We can only wait and hope.” A transient look of gratitude for his seeming candor softened her hard beauty, and she withdrew her hand and her glance. Then he knew that another mighty struggle was taking place within her. He knew from the deep crimson that suffused her face how fully she realized all that he must be to her during the weary weeks to come. He saw the outward evidences of the unthinkable revulsion that filled her, with him as its cause. He knew that in agony of soul she rebelled against the fate that had placed her helpless in the hands of a stranger, and that stranger a man, and that man the one now serving her, however willingly, however faithfully, with whatever tact and delicacy. He saw, from her hopless glance about the cabin, the bitterness of the fight that she was making to accept its repellent hospitality. And, worst of all, he saw, or thought he saw, that in the victory that she finally won there was more of an iron determination to endure than of a simple resignation to accept.