Rhoda's gray eyes lifted to the young man's somberly. "I'm too dull these days to learn anything," she said. "But I--I didn't used to be! Truly I didn't! I used to be so alive, so strong! I believed in everything, myself most of all! Truly I did!" She paused, wondering at her lack of reticence. Cartwell, however, was looking at her with something in his gaze so quietly understanding that Rhoda smiled. It was a slow smile that lifted and deepened the corners of Rhoda's lips, that darkened her gray eyes to black, an unforgetable smile to the loveliness of which Rhoda's friends never could accustom themselves. At the sight of it, Cartwell drew a deep breath, then leaned toward her and spoke with curious earnestness. "You make me feel the same way that starlight on the desert makes me feel." Rhoda replied in astonishment, "Why, you mustn't speak that way to me! It's not--not--" "Not conventional?" suggested Cartwell. "What difference does that make, between you and me?" Again came the strange stirring in Rhoda in response to Cartwell's gaze. He was looking at her with something of tragedy in the dark young eyes, something of sternness and determination in the clean-cut lips. Rhoda wondered, afterward, what would have been said if Katherine had not chosen this moment to come out on the porch. "Rhoda," she asked, "do you feel like dressing for dinner? Hello, Kut-le, it's time you moved toward soap and water, seems to me!" "Yessum!" replied Cartwell meekly. He rose and helped Rhoda from the hammock, then held the door open for her. DeWitt and Newman emerged from the orchard as he crossed to Katherine's chair. "Is she very sick, Mrs. Jack?" he asked. Katherine nodded soberly. "Desperately sick. Her father and mother were killed in a railroad wreck a year ago. Rhoda wasn't seriously hurt but she has never gotten over the shock. She has been failing ever since. The doctor feared consumption and sent her down here. But she's just dying by inches. Oh, it's too awful! I can't believe it! I can't realize it!" Cartwell stood in silence for a moment, his lips compressed, his eyes inscrutable. Then, "I've met her at last," he said. "It makes me believe in Fate." Katherine's pretty lips parted in amazement. "Goodness! Are you often taken this way!" she gasped. "Never before!" replied Cartwell serenely. "Jack said she'd broken her engagement to DeWitt because of her illness, so it's a fair war!" "Kut-le!" exclaimed Katherine. "Don't talk like a yellow-backed novel! It's not a life or death affair." "You can't tell as to that," answered Cartwell with a curious little smile. "You mustn't forget that I'm an Indian." And he turned to greet the two men who were mounting the steps. CHAPTER II THE CAUCASIAN WAY When Rhoda entered the dining-room some of her pallor seemed to have left her. She was dressed in a gown of an elusive pink that gave a rose flush to the marble fineness of her face.