In the morning Clayton was very quiet, and even listless. He did not recur to the talk of the previous evening, though Justin momentarily expected him to, and was forging more arguments to combat this new and distressing theory which had wormed its way into Clayton’s troubled mind. During the day, when there were so many things to hold his attention, Clayton was not likely to give so much thought to Sibyl and his new conclusions; he had a number of patients, including Davison, who demanded his attention, and as a physician he threw himself into his work without reserve or thought of himself. Therefore, Justin felt easier when Clayton saddled his horse and rode away to visit a sick man, who was one of the newer settlers in the valley. CHAPTER XIX SIBYL AND CLAYTON Returning that afternoon from a long and somewhat wearing journey, and being distressed and troubled, Clayton encountered Sibyl, as he turned into the Paradise trail. She was mounted on a spirited bay horse, which she had obtained in the town, and was riding out to make a call on Mary Jasper. She drew her horse in, when she beheld Clayton, and sat awaiting him. He would have fled, when he saw her there, but that such an act savored of ungallantry and cowardice. So he continued on until he reached her side. She looked into his troubled face with a smile, pushing back her veil with a jeweled white hand from which she had drawn the glove. He had always admired the beauty of her hands. “I thought it was you,” she said in her sweetest manner. “So I waited for you to come up.” “What are you doing here?” he demanded, hoarsely. “I have friends in the town, you know, and I came down to visit them; just now I am on my way to call on Mary. But it’s such a pleasure to see you, Curtis, that if you don’t object I’ll ride with you a short distance.” The blood came into his face under that winning smile. He knew he ought to hate this woman, and he had a sense of self-contempt when he could not. “I thought yesterday of calling on you,” she went on. “I’m glad you didn’t,” he contrived to say. “Now, don’t be foolish and unreasonable, Curtis. I know what you’ve thought, and all the horrid things that have been said about me since Ben Davison’s death, but they weren’t true. It isn’t any pleasanter for me to be lied about and misunderstood than it is for you and Justin. Mary’s mind has been poisoned against me, but I’ll make her see even yet that I’m not the woman she thinks I am.” He sat looking at her in hesitation, the strange light which Justin had noticed again in his eyes; he hardly heard her words, but he could not fail to hear the music of her voice. It had not lost its charm. “Good God, Sibyl,” he burst out, “if you could only have been true to me, and we could have lived happily together!” There was agony and yearning in his tone.