“You have thought many foolish things, which you had no right to think, just like other people. Shall we ride along? There is a good path leading by those bushes.” “Yes, the trail past the Black Cañon.” The fence hedging the mesa from the valley had been lately removed. He turned his horse toward the path, and they rode along together. At first he did not speak, but listened to her, with a glance at her now and then as she sat, firmly erect and beautiful, on that handsome bay. Her gray veil fluttered above her face. It was an attractive face, even a beautiful one, after all the years, and the strain and turmoil of them. There were a few fine hair-like wrinkles about the dark eyes, but she knew how to conceal them. The rouge which Lemuel Fogg had noticed in Denver was absent, or, having been deftly applied, was unnoticed by Clayton. Her blue close-fitting riding habit, with a dash of bright color at the throat, became her and heightened her charm. And it was her beauty, unchanged, it seemed to him, which Clayton devoured when he glanced at her; it was her beauty which had won his boyish heart, and it had not lost its power. “Good God, Sibyl, if you could only have been true to me!” he exclaimed again. She showed no irritation. “You have thought many things that weren’t true; for you were never willing to believe anything but the worst. This is a lovely country here, isn’t it? And that cañon; it’s a horrid-looking hole, but fascinating.” “As fascinating as sin, or a beautiful woman.” She laughed lightly. “You always had a way of saying startling things. If you had set your mind to it you might have been a great and successful flatterer.” “I might have been many things, if other things had been different.” “I suppose that is true of all of us. The trouble is that there seems to be no forgiveness for mistakes.” “What do you mean by that?” Her dark eyes looked into his. As they were withdrawn they took in every detail of his face and figure. “I really didn’t know you were so good looking, Curtis! You’re really stunning on a horse, in that dark suit and those tan riding boots. I think you must have prospered down here?” “I have lived.” “What I meant was that you never have been able to forgive any of my mistakes.” “Your sins, you mean.” “Believing evil of me, you say sins. But I have been lied about, Curtis, cruelly lied about; I’m not perfect, any more than you are, but I’m not as bad as you think. You said a while ago, in one of your dramatic ways, that if I could only have been true to you, and we could have lived happily together! If I went wrong once, is that any reason why I couldn’t be true to you now?” His hand shook on the rein. “I don’t believe you could be true to any man or any thing.” “Now is that quite fair?” “Perhaps it is not quite fair, but you know I have had good cause for saying it.”