Lans had heard the report of Cynthia's early childhood; the girl herself had sweetly and pathetically referred to it--and they thought he was that kind, eh? Well, he would show them! Having accepted the fate of the man on a desert island, Lans Treadwell meant to treat the natives he found there, fairly and nobly. In his mind he had cut himself adrift forever from the old life and its claims; Cynthia was the most attractive little savage on his isolated, safety isle--he would claim her virtuously and bravely; he would train her; educate her to be no unworthy mate for him in his god-like sacrifice for his family honour. Never had Lans Treadwell been so dramatic nor such a fool, but he had caught little Cyn, and before she realized what had happened or why she had permitted it to happen, she drove away with Treadwell over the hills one day to see some land Crothers had urged him to look at and, a storm overtaking them, they were delayed in an old cabin where they sought shelter over night and then and there Lans brought her to see that for all their sakes they should be married before going home. "Married?" gasped Cynthia, as if the word were foreign; "married! me, little Cyn? Why, only _women_ marry!" "And you are a woman, sweet!" Even then Lans did not touch her, though she looked more divine with her big eyes shining and the blessed smile parting her lips than he had ever seen her. "I--a woman? Well, I reckon I am--but it seems mighty queer when you first think of it. And--the folks would say evil things of me because you took care of me and didn't risk my neck on the bad roads in the dark? What could they-all say?" For the life of him Lans could not frame the words with that lovely face turned to his. "You must trust me, Cynthia. I will protect you and you must protect me." "I--protect you? You are right funny. What could they-all do to you?" "They could horsewhip me; tar and feather me----" "Oh! no!" And now the light faded from the girl's face. Once at The Forge a man was treated so--yes! there was something about a woman, too! The storm had raged all night. Lans made a fire and laughed and joked the dark lonely hours through. After midnight Cynthia fell asleep from sheer exhaustion and Lans placed his overcoat under her head while he smoked by the fire and grew--as imagination fed upon itself--into a being so immaculate and saint-like that the morning found him prepared for the final and dramatic climax. He awoke Cynthia, touched her as if she was a spirit, and took her to the little town known as Sudley's Gap and there--married her!