She was not afraid of Dale--not the man! No personal element had ever existed between them. But she was most decidedly afraid of the far-reaching consequences which might be wrought by her failure to hold him steadfast. For if he could rise to a place whose height had dazzled her, why should she not in his eyes have sunk as astonishingly low? By what incentive would he then come again for guidance? How could she have the effrontery to offer it? Between remorseless reasonings and the stings of wounded pride, she pressed her face still deeper into the old sofa. It must have been an hour later when she sprang up and looked anxiously at the darkening windows. She had formed no definite plan, but her dominant impulse was to act before he should have a night to analyse, to settle, to censure. Stopping at the first wall mirror she made a few touches to her hair and searched her face for signs of tears; then passed out, closing the heavy door with a firmness which might have meant all fears were shut within. At the library she hesitated, experiencing a momentary relief when it was found to be deserted. She went to the porch but it, too, was vacant; and as far as she could see out through the grounds no one stirred. Yet, as her search continued, her self-assurance came bounding back, and when she started across the grass to an old arbor, where he had sometimes been known to go at this hour, she became once more the courageous, dauntless mountain girl. He was there, just as she suspected. Through the gathering shadows he could be seen leaning heavily against one of the upright posts, his shoulders stooped, and his face set upon the west which was a fiery red. Going softly along the tanbark path, and stopping within a pace of him, she waited to see if he would turn; then asked: "Were you watching the sunset?" He answered "Yes," but it might have come from someone else, so little did he seem to realize her presence. "Was it beautiful?" she asked again. "I don't know; I didn't see it." "It is leaving a wonderful sky," she ventured, trying to come gracefully to the things she wanted to say. "Yes," he murmured, after another pause. "A kind of sky that makes me sad--a sort of sadness very far from tears. I don't know what I mean;--I don't reckon anyone knows what I mean!" Her eyes did not leave their watchful gaze upon his shoulders. It might have been that she expected to see him change again; to see him begin another transformation back to the old Dale--for surely this was not the schoolboy speaking now! And she wished he might come back, for then she could talk to him. Again she was reminded of the precious minutes passing. It would be easier to open with an attack. "I shouldn't think you could be anything else but sad after the way you've behaved," she said slowly, wondering if he would submit. But he only murmured: "I did all I could to pay the debt;--I thought I was doing my duty!"