Every word she spoke seemed to be a heavier blow than the last, and Terence bowed under the accumulated weight. Vance could see the boy struggle, waver between fierce pride and desperate humiliation and sorrow. To Vance it was clear that the stiff pride of Elizabeth as she sat in the chair was a brittle strength, and one vital appeal would break her to tears. But the boy did not see. Presently he straightened, bowed to her in the best Colby fashion, and turned on his heel. He went out of the room and left Vance and his sister facing one another, but not meeting each other's glances. "Elizabeth," he said at last, faintly--he dared not persuade too much lest she take him at his word. "Elizabeth, you don't mean it. It was twenty-four years ago that you passed your word to do this if things turned out as they have. Forget your promise. My dear, you're still wrapped up in Terry, no matter what you have said. Let me go and call him back. Why should you torture yourself for the sake of your pride?" He even rose, not too swiftly, and still with his eyes upon her. When she lifted her hand, he willingly sank back into his chair. "You're a very kind soul, Vance. I never knew it before. I'm appreciating it now almost too late. But what I have done shall stand!" "But, my dear, the pain--is it worth--" "It means that my life is a wreck and a ruin, Vance. But I'll stand by what I've done. I won't give way to the extent of a single scruple." And the long, bitter silence which was to last so many days at the Cornish ranch began. And still they did not look into one another's eyes. As for Vance, he did not wish to. He was seeing a bright future. Not long to wait; after this blow she would go swiftly to her grave. He had barely reached that conclusion when the door opened again. Terry stood before them in the old, loose, disreputable clothes of a cow- puncher. The big sombrero swung in his hand. The heavy Colt dragged down in its holster over his right hip. His tanned face was drawn and stern. "I won't keep you more than a moment," he said. "I'm leaving. And I'm leaving with nothing of yours. I've already taken too much. If I live to be a hundred, I'll never forgive myself for taking your charity these twenty-four years. For what you've spent maybe I can pay you back one of these days, in money. But for all the time and--patience--you've spent on me I can never repay you. I know that. At least, here's where I stop piling up a debt. These clothes and this gun come out of the money I made punching cows last year. Outside I've got El Sangre saddled with a saddle I bought out of the same money. They're my start in life, the clothes I've got on and the gun and the horse and the saddle. So I'm starting clean--Miss Cornish!" Vance saw his sister wince under that name from the lips of Terry. But she did not speak. "There'll be no return," said Terence sadly. "My trail is an out trail. Good-by again." And so he was gone. CHAPTER 17