Womanlike, she capitulated at last. What matter if he stayed here where his hopes were centred? This life in the North had claimed him, and she would wait until he came for her. But still he did not respond, and it was not long until she had persuaded herself that his battle with the wilderness had put red blood into his veins, and his conduct had been no worse than that of other men. Finally she tried to voice these thoughts, but she only led him to a stiff denial of the charges she wished to forgive. As she saw him slipping further away from her, she summoned all her arts to rekindle the flame which had burned so steadily; and when these failed, she surrendered every prejudice. It was his love she wanted. All else was secondary. At last she knew herself. She could have cried at the sudden realization that he had not kissed her since their parting in Chicago; and when she saw he had no will to do so, the memory of his last embrace arose to torture her. She was almost glad when a launch bringing her father came from the shore, and the old man joined them. The two men bore themselves with unbending formality, unable as yet to forget their mutual wrongs. The interruption gave Boyd the opportunity he had not been brave enough to make, and he bade them both good-bye, for the tide was at its flood, and the hour of their departure was at hand. There was a meaningless exchange of words, and a handshake in the glare from the cabin lights that showed Mildred's pallid lips and frightened eyes. Then Emerson went over the side, and the darkness swallowed him up. The girl clutched at her father's arm, standing as if frozen while the creak of rowlocks grew fainter and fainter and died away. Then she turned. "You see--he came!" she said. The old man saw the agony that blanched her cheeks, and answered, gently: "Yes, daughter!" He struggled with himself, "And if you wish it, he may come again." "But he won't come again. That is what makes it so hard; he will never come back." She turned away, but not quickly enough to keep him from seeing that her eyes were wet. Wayne Wayland beheld what he would have given half his mighty fortune to prevent. He cried out angrily, but she anticipated his thought. "No, no, you must never injure him again, for he was right and we were wrong. You see I--couldn't understand." He left her staring into the night, and walked heavily below.