"Captain Morgan," he said quietly, "I have done nothing to harm your daughter's good name, in the eyes of any man or woman! That I swear before God. In that I yearned to make her wonderful beauty add to my reputation, I plead my blind selfishness; but above all I wanted to give to the world a pleasure that you can never realize, I think, and I believe your daughter is great enough to give all, that I ruthlessly took without asking, to help me give the world that picture!" His own eyes turned to the pure, exquisite face. "Like as not she would!" Billy replied, "like as not she would. Was there ever a woman as wasn't willin' t' fling herself away, if a man was reckless enough t' p'int the path out t' her? An' do ye think I'm goin' t' let ye take my Janet's dear face int' that hell-place of a city; an' have folks starin' at her, folks what ain't fit t' raise their eyes t' her? Ain't ye done her enough wrong without takin' her sacrifice, if she's willin' t' make it?" "Good God, man! I'm willing to do all I can. That picture is worth hundreds of dollars to me and untold pleasure to many besides, but I am willing to do with it just what you think best." "Then cut it open, Mark!" Billy's tone rose shrilly. "Slash it top an' bottom an' don't leave a trace o' Janet." Mark drew from his pocket a huge clasp knife. He trembled as he opened it and stood back to strike the first blow. "Stop!" Thornly sprang between him and the canvas. "Stop! I could easier see some savage devastate the beauty of these Hills. Wait! I swear to leave it as it is. I swear that no eyes but ours shall rest upon it; but you shall not destroy it!" Command and power rang in Thornly's voice. Mark wavered. Billy hung his head. "Arter all," he groaned, "we ain't none o' us got the final right. Janet's my gal, but her beauty is hers, an' God Almighty's. Keep the picter till such time as my Janet can judge an' say. The time will come when she'll get her bearin's, with full instructions, an' then she'll judge among us all!" The two rough men turned toward the door. "When she tells ye," Billy paused to say, "she'll be wiser than what she is t'-day, poor little critter!" Thornly watched the men, in stern silence, until they passed from sight; then he went back to the easel. "Pimpernel," he whispered brokenly, "poor little wild flower, out of place among us all!" He drew a heavy cloth over the radiant face, and with reverent hand placed the canvas against the wall in the darkest corner of the room. * * * * * Late that afternoon Billy's boat put off for the Station in the teeth of a rising gale and amid ominous warnings of thunder. Susan Jane grew more irritable and nervous as the storm rose. She feared storm and lightning. "Janet, ain't that Billy's sail crossin' the bay?" she said. Janet came to the window. "Yes, it is," she faltered; "and he's going on!"