“When I returned to Salt Lake I made arrangements to have a block of granite cut to mark the spot. I suppose it has been conveyed to the mountains before this. I should have waited to see it in place only I feared the winter might set in and prevent my return to the States until spring; I dared not risk that.” “You have seen Anna?” she suddenly asked. He understood; she wished to be alone. He realized this with a quick sense of disappointment. He rose reluctantly from his chair. “Really I might have gone there first. Where is Mrs. Walsh?” he asked. “She is with Anna. We fear to leave her alone. It seems she never for one moment lost hope, or had any other belief than that they would come back safe and well.” “And are you alone here?” he said. “Yes, for the present.” “I should think you needed Mrs. Walsh rather more than she does,” he commented with some little brusqueness. “You must go to her at once when you return to town. I am sure she will feel it if you do not,” urged Virginia. He drove straight to Anna's. There in the darkened parlour he waited impatiently for a full half hour before she made her appearance. When she at last entered the room, she greeted him with such lack of warmth, that he instantly felt that here he was held in positive disfavour. “I heard last night that you were home, and I have been expecting you all the morning,” she said resentfully. “Have you seen Virginia?” “Yes.” She frowned slightly. His lips parted in a faintly cynical smile. “I suppose Virginia told you that I had been utterly prostrated since the cruel news came?” “Yes,” said Benson. “But I heard last night of your condition; I drove out to the farm first. I knew Mrs. Landray would be able to tell me if it would be advisable for you to see me.” She looked at him with lurking suspicion; but he met her glance frankly, and she was half convinced of his sincerity. “I am sorry I kept you waiting,” she said relenting. “I was so distressed to hear that you were not well,” he murmured. “You must let me come again when you are stronger,” he urged. “I don't think you are in a condition now to hear what I have done; you must be spared that until you are more yourself.” “But I shall never be that!” cried Anna, with a choking sob. And at this touch of real feeling, he regretted that he had stooped to play a part. When a little later Benson went back to his office he found Judge Bradly waiting for him. “You have seen them?” questioned the judge. “My dear Jacob, it must have been a trying experience.” Benson nodded, and slipped into a chair before his desk. The judge watching him, shook his head with settled melancholy of manner. “When I made their loss known to them Bushrod's wife fainted, Jake, keeled over at the first word; and when she came to, her grief was most heartrending. Her sister-in-law's composure was remarkable; while Mrs. Walsh showed much emotion—a nice little thing, Jacob; did I understand you to say quite penniless?” “Yes.”