She realized now how completely she had yielded to the spell that the magnetic and impetuous exile had woven about her; she knew now that had he pressed her that day when he had told her of his love for her she must have surrendered. She thought, darkly, of his fiery manner that day, of his burning looks, his hot, impulsive words, of his confidences. Hypocrisy all! For while they had been together he must have been thinking of sending for Hester! He had been trifling with her! Faith in an ideal is a sacred thing, and shattered, it lights the fires of hate and scorn, and the emotions that seethed through Rosalind's veins as in her room she considered Trevison's unworthiness, finally developed into a furious vindictiveness. She wished dire, frightful calamities upon him, and then, swiftly reacting, her sympathetical womanliness forced the dark passions back, and she threw herself on the bed, sobbing, murmuring: "Forgive me!" Later, when she had made herself presentable, she went downstairs again, concealing her misery behind a steady courtesy and a smile that sometimes was a little forced and bitter, to entertain her guest. It was a long, tiresome day, made almost unbearable by Hester's small talk. But she got through it. And when, rather late in the afternoon, Hester inquired the way to the Diamond K, announcing her intention of visiting Trevison immediately, she gave no evidence of the shocked surprise that seized her. She coolly helped Hester prepare for the trip, and when she drove away in the buckboard, stood on the ground at the edge of the porch, watching as the buckboard and its occupant faded into the shimmering haze of the plains. CHAPTER XVII JUSTICE VS. LAW Impatience, intolerable and vicious, gripped Trevison as he rode homeward after his haunting vigil at Manti. The law seemed to him to be like a house with many doors, around and through which one could play hide and seek indefinitely, with no possibility of finding one of the doors locked. Judge Graney had warned him to be cautious, but as he rode into the dusk of the plains the spirit of rebellion seized him. Twice he halted Nigger and wheeled him, facing Manti, already agleam and tumultuous, almost yielding to his yearning to return and force his enemy to some sort of physical action, but each time he urged the horse on, for he could think of no definite plan. He was half way to the Diamond K when he suddenly started and sat rigid and erect in the saddle, drawing a deep breath, his nerves tingling from excitement. He laughed lowly, exultingly, as men laugh when under the stress of adversity they devise sudden, bold plans of action, and responding to the slight knee press Nigger turned, reared, and then shot like a black bolt across the plains at an angle that would not take him anywhere near the Diamond K.