He did not add that the very fact that she had needed a service from him was sufficient recompense. Then they walked their horses homeward, talking of many things of common interest to them. Down in the valley, the soft gray of the dead gramma grass was relieved by the great beds of evergreen cacti, yucca, and the greenery of the sage and mesquite. The late afterglow in the sky mingled with the purple haze that hung like an ethereal veil over the landscape. They stopped their horses at a turn of the road commanding a fine view of the mountains. "How beautiful the world is everywhere!" Esther said, half to herself. "Especially in Arizona," said Kenneth, as he drew a deep invigorating breath. Silence again. "Miss Bright," he hesitated. "I believe the world would be beautiful to me anywhere, if you were there." "You flatter," she said, lifting her hand as if to ward off what might follow. "No flattery. Since you came, the whole world has seemed beautiful to me." "I am glad if my coming has improved your vision," she said merrily. "Come, we must hasten, or we'll be late for dinner. You are to dine with us to-night, I believe." "Yes, Mrs. Clayton was so kind as to invite me." Again her horse took the lead. Kenneth touched his with the whip, and overtook her. For some distance, the horses were neck and neck. As they came to a steep ascent, they slackened their pace. Her eyes were sparkling, and she was in excellent spirits. "If I were a better horsewoman," she said gayly, "I'd challenge you to a race." "Why not, anyway?" he suggested. "There are no more gulches." "I might not be able to stick on." "We'll try it," he responded, encouragingly, "over the next level stretch." So try it they did. They flew like the wind. The cool evening air, the excitement of the race, the rich afterglow in the heavens,--all were exhilarating. On they sped, on and on, till they turned into the canyon road. Again Esther's horse led, but Kenneth soon overtook her, and then their horses walked slowly on together the rest of the way. "I wonder if you are as happy as I am," he said, as he assisted her from the saddle. "I am in the positive degree of happiness," she said, cheerily. "I am always happy except when shadowed by someone else's sorrow." He said something to her about bearing all her future sorrows for her, adding: "That is becoming the dearest wish of my heart." "All must meet sorrow sometime," she responded gravely. "I hope to meet mine with fortitude when it comes." She stood stroking the horse's neck. "I wish I might help you to bear it when it comes. Oh, Miss Bright," he said, earnestly, "I wish I could make you realize how I honor you--and dare I say it?--how I love you! I wish you would try to understand me. I am not trifling. I am in earnest." He looked at her downcast face. "I will try," she said, looking up frankly, with no trace of coquetry in her voice or manner.