He came close beside her, touching her lightly, wondering. "I am so sorry, forgive me! I did not realize what I was doing. I did not wish to frighten you, believe me!" The sobs were hushed instantly. She raised her head, and looked at him, still dry-eyed. "You were right," she said. "I do not even now _feel_ for him--perhaps some for the little girl now on her way to him; but it is all unreal. I have seen men dead like this before, and I could not feel anything but horror--no sorrow. I am as I am. It makes no difference what you say,--what anyone says,--I cannot change. I am not tender--only please do not terrify me again!" "I was a brute!" he exclaimed, then left her and returned to the dead man's side. The girl stood for some time quietly beside her horse, then began to loosen the cinch. Livingston watched her wonderingly as she drew out the blanket, and secured the saddle once more into place. He did not realize her motive until she stood beside him, holding in her hand the gayly colored saddle blanket. Kneeling opposite him, beside the body of the boy, she tenderly lifted the long hair from his forehead, spread over his face a white handkerchief, then stood up and unfolded the blanket, covering the rigid form with it. "You have a heart!" exclaimed Livingston softly. "You are thinking of him tenderly, as a sister might, and of his sweetheart coming over the water to him!" "No, not of that at all," said the girl simply, "nor of him, as you think; but of one who might be lying here in his place--one who has no sweetheart, near or far away, to cover him with the mantle of her love." CHAPTER VII