"Well, I'm not sure. You see, he talks to Aprilla about her, and Aprilla is worried and tells me a little; but it's in confidence, you know."

Mr. Golightly refrained from smiling. He was an old lawyer, and had found most confidences kept in Mrs. Sandridge's fashion.

"It may not be so bad after all, Mrs. Sandridge," said the lawyer. "It is a good sign if he talks freely to Miss Stannard. But I will do my best to attend to the interests of the young man in this affair. It is a delicate matter to handle, but 1 rely on your discretion. Now, not a word of our plans, madam,-not a word. Good-day, good-day." And Mr. Golightly bowed Mrs. Sandridge out a little bewildered.

"Well, I declare!" she said to herself, as she walked under the scudding clouds and felt a fine mist strike her face. "He never said a word about what we was to do, and he wants me to keep it secret. Well, I guess I will."

Mr. Golightly reflected a few moments. "I think what our friend wants is a little wider horizon."

If the wider horizon was the one thing needful, Mr. Golightly was not to be accused of remissness in supplying it. By his pressing invitation Silas came for a fortnight's visit to the lawyer's own house, and Mr. Golightly put aside his own comfort and enlisted the aid of his family in introducing Silas to the winter gaieties of San José. And he was so successful that Silas stayed three weeks instead of two, and then started for the ranch as he said, "to catch up on sleep."

"Did you Well,

"Hello, Pete!" he cried, as Aprilla welcomed him at the door. have a slow time with the ranch? I'm glad to get back, for all I've gay time."

had a

Aprilla looked a little anxious as she smiled in sympathy with his infectious laugh.

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I'm glad you had a good time. You did have a good time, did n't you? Yes," said Silas thoughtfully; “it was a good time, but it was a little wearing."

"And did you find any one equal to Miss Masterson?" asked Aprilla. She tried to utter the question gaily, but there was a trace of anxiety in her voice.

"Miss Masterson be hanged!" said Silas. "That is I don't mean that, of course. Miss Masterson is a very nice girl, but I guess she would be improved if she did n't always look as though she had dressed in a hurry and got her things on hind end foremost."

"You might as well," grumbled Silas, showing signs of being ready to take up the cudgels for the young lady.

"O, no," protested Aprilla; "she's a very nice girl. But who is the new one, Silas?"

"Who-which-what?" said Silas, trying to look astonished, but succeeding only in looking disconcerted.

"The San José girl," said Aprilla calınly.

Well," said Silas reddening, "I s'pose I might as well confess to you, Pete." "Of course," said Aprilla. "Who's a better right to know?"

"Her name is Elliot-Minnie Elliot.” "Minnie Elliot!" cried Aprilla. "I used to go to school with her. How nice! And is there any other?"

"Well," said Silas reflectively, "there's Miss Camperdown."

The news that there were two of them appeared to relieve Aprilla of some apprehension, and she encouraged Silas to talk of his experiences, and by the end of an hour had a fairly complete account of his new acquaintances.

"But after all, Pete," said Silas as they parted for the night, "it's a luxury to get back to the ranch, and talk this way with

you. It's like putting off this starched shirt and stiff collar and getting into sensible clothes again."

Aprilla flushed with pleasure at this homely compliment, but she only said:--Good-night, Silas."

As she stood, the mellow lamplight fell upon her in a way that brought out the best of her fresh face and figure.

"Why, how pretty you look, to-night, Pete!" said Silas, surprised, and almost involuntarily.

"Did you learn to talk like that by making pretty speeches to Miss Elliot, Silas" she said mockingly, and then before he could reply she ran to her room, hugged a pillow for a moment, then flung it from her and studied her figure and face in the glass for several minutes. The glass sent back the reflection of a happy face, but whatever thoughts she may have had she only nodded in a decided way.

Silas stood a moment after Aprilla deserted him.

"I guess," he thought, "Pete had better take a turn at San José or the city herself. She'd show up as well as any of them under the gaslight." And then, bethinking himself of the farm accounts, he spent an hour trying to straighten them. out before he went to bed.

In the days that followed, Silas worked hard and said little about his new friends.

But it was plain that Miss Masterson's star had set. That young lady rode up to the house, resplendent in a new ridinghabit that justified Silas's private comment that there was "something upsidedown about it," and was inveigled by Aprilla into staying to dinner, but was basely deserted by Silas, who excused himself after the meal and a few indifferent remarks, on the plea that he "guessed he had better look after the sick colt."

Miss Masterson tossed her head, talked gayly to Aprilla, and finally kissed her hostess and took her leave with a flash of the eye that betokened a little resentment. Well, there's one of them settled," was Aprilla's inward thought. But she said nothing, even to Mrs. Sandridge.

Then Silas took to going to San José every week or two, and became rather uncommunicative as to his objects.

Aprilla discreetly gave up questioning

him after a few attempts, and finally astonished him by announcing that she was going to San Francisco on a three-months visit.

Silas protested.

"O, Mrs. Sandridge will look after everything," said Aprilla. "I won't be missed."

"Can't get along without you, Pete," "But said Silas. you 've earned your vacation."

"You can find company in San José, if you get lonesome," said Aprilla with a mischievous look, as Silas took her to the train.

Silas smiled uneasily, and Aprilla's eyes flashed out a danger-signal.

"Is she worth giving up a fortune for?" she asked in a meaning tone.

"Could n't say so," said Silas stolidly. "Well, train 's going. Good-by!"

And as he looked after the disappearing cars he muttered, "She need n't have reminded me of Uncle Jacob's will. Hang Uncle Jacob's will, and his money, too!

Silas Davenant stood for a moment in the dark shadow of the trees that lined the street, and looked up at the house that he had just left. The arc-light that sputtered and flickered its blue-white rays from the mast on the corner made only a deeper shade where he stood. The night air was half-warm, half-chill with the dampness of early spring, and as the lights suddenly disappeared from the parlor-window before him he drew a slight whistle, shrugged his shoulders as if to throw off the cold and walked briskly on.

"Whew!" he thought. That was a close call. If the aunt had left us alone one minute more, I should have asked the question.

"Well, I suppose I might go further and fare worse," continued his silent soliloquy. "Miss Elliot is a dem'd fine girl. But I'm not quite sure that she tops the others so much after all. And there's that confounded will. She is n't worth giving up a quarter of a million for. I'm afraid that Mrs. Davenant without money would n't make such a fine figure as Miss Elliot with money. And I'm not sure that I'd be such a stunning attraction myself working for day's wages and trying

to earn enough to keep house on. Hm-m! I suppose Pete would give me a job as foreman of the ranch maybe, if she did n't get a left-handed fancy for Mrs. Davenant," he thought with grim humor.

And as his reflections turned to Aprilla he mentally compared her with the young woman he had just left. "Well," was his judgment, "I don't believe Minnie-I mean Miss Elliot-has more 'n half as much sense as Pete. Maybe she's prettier. Anyhow she's got a smoother skin. May

And Mrs. Sandridge does get a little wearing for company."

Silas walked rapidly but almost aimlessly along the street. He was in unusual excitement and took no heed of where he was going till he found himself come unconsciously to Mr. Golightly's gate. He had dined with the lawyer and had promised to return for the night, but as he paused at the gate a strong disinclination to enter came upon him. He felt a fierce desire for physical exercise that should

be she would n't have if she had had to take her training from Uncle Jacob," and he chuckled at the thought. "But anyhow," he went on in his reflections, now assuming an injured feeling, "if I had made a break to-night it would have been Pete's fault. If she had n't gone off to San Francisco and stayed there, a fellow would n't have been so confounded lonesome. She's been gone over two months now, and there's no sign when she's coming back.

still the turbulent energy that he felt throbbing in his arteries.

"I could n't sleep to save my neck," he thought. "It's no use to go to bed."

He looked at his watch. It was just past eleven o'clock.

Then he walked up the path to the sidedoor that opened into Mr. Golightly's study. There was a light in the window, and a tap brought the lawyer to the door.

"Come in," said Mr. Golightly with an

absence of dignity in his dress and in his manner that he would have been shocked to show in the daytime. "The others have gone to bed, but I thought you'd see my light."

"I'm going back to the ranch, Mr. Golightly," said Silas. "I thought I'd better stop in and tell you, so that you would n't be worried."

"What's the matter?" demanded Mr. Golightly in mild astonishment. "Anybody sick?"

Silas explained that he could not sleep, and wanted to be on hand at the ranch early in the morning.

Mr. Golightly remonstrated politely, but as Silas was determined, he bade him good-night.

Silas made his way to the stable where he had left his horse, and with some difficulty succeeded in rousing the stableman. "You're late about it," said the man in surly fashion, when Silas explained what he wanted.

Silas overlooked the tone, sprang into the saddle, and clattered down the street. In a little distance the horse had found his gait and caught some of his rider's nervous eagerness for swift movement, and was flying through the deserted streets at a gallop that roused the echoes from the house-fronts. Soon the well-lighted thoroughfares were left behind. Houses be

came smaller and farther between, and in a few minutes more Silas had plunged into the star-lit darkness of the highway and was flying down its broad length, he and his horse the only moving creatures within sight and hearing.

The motion drove his blood faster through his veins, the night air blew fresh on his face, and the eagerness for physical action burned fiercer within him as he urged his horse to greater speed. The high-spirited animal responded to his demand and leaped forward with longer, quicker strides. The sensation of motion, the electric thrill of power from the living engine beneath him, gave a fierce pleasure as the fences and the trees that stood like dark sentinels rushed up out of the void ahead, became plain for a few seconds, and then silently retired into the dark void behind him.

Five miles had been passed over in the

wild career, when the panting and straining of the beast that he bestrode recalled to Silas the true horseman's feeling, and he checked his speed to give the animal breathing time. Then as the animal recovered its wind he plunged forward again and the dark road fell away swiftly behind him.

Now his fierceness was somewhat spent, though the tumult of his thoughts and feelings was not allayed, but out of the chaos there was gradually shaped the face of Aprilla, and the thought grew upon him that he must see Aprilla, and that until he did see her he could not be content. when he realized to what his thoughts had come, he laughed grimly and suddenly pulled his horse to a walk.

Then

"Pete's in San Francisco, and talks of going to Europe. I reckon I shan't see much more of her, now she 's broken away from the ranch. But anyhow this is n't the direction to look for her and it ain't just the time to go calling-even on Pete. But it's queer how a fancy takes a fellow sometimes."

"Ho!" he said addressing his horse. "Must be half way now. I'll give you a rest." He swung himself down, and in the lee of the horse struck a match and looked at his watch. It was on the stroke of midnight.

"O, we'll be there easy before one o'clock, old fellow," he said patting the panting horse on the neck, while a light steam rose from the animal's sides on the night air. Then he loosened the cinch and after a few minutes breathing, shifted the saddle, drew tight the straps and again mounted. The horse sprang forward, as though to show how grateful he was for the little consideration, and the miles rolled swiftly from beneath its hoofs.

Silas was now in calmer mind, yet he had not reached the point of physical fatigue, and he urged the horse to its best speed. But he could not shake from his mind the feeling that he was hastening to meet Aprilla, and that much depended on his haste.

"I reckon she is n't very anxious to see me or she would n't hang on to San Francisco forever and hint about going off with the Johnsons to tour it around the world," was his thought. But the feeling

was so strong upon him that he chuckled impatiently to the horse at every checking of the speed and strained his eyes into the darkness to recognize the familiar features of the road.

"Here we are," he cried to the horse as the hoofs clattered loudly on a bridge. "Only a mile to the gate, old fellow!" And once more on the soft road, the willing beast increased its speed as though anxious to cover the remaining distance. and find its place in the stable.

Ride fast, ride fast," was the refrain that the hoofs beat into his ear. "Ride fast, ride fast," and he gave way to the steady dragging power of the thought that he must ride to meet Aprilla. Then he laughed at the folly of it all, and felt himself color in the darkness and solitude that he should be guilty of any such lapse into sentiment.

In another moment shapes of men took sudden form out of the darkness before him as they sprang from the roadside.

"Hi, there!" was the call. "Stop, if you don't want a bullet in you!"

The horse shied, snorted, and came to a sudden halt as the forms closed the road before him, and began to back.

"What do you want?" asked Silas angrily. "What do you mean by stopping a peaceable man on the road?'

"Grab the bridle," cried one of the men. We want your horse and your money." "I'll be d- -d if you do!" cried Silas, giving his horse a sharp blow with the whip.

The animal sprang forward responsive and knocked over one of the men. Another grasped the bridle, but the shock broke it in his hand.

Then a streak of fire shot out of the darkness with a great sound, and Silas felt a heavy blow. The earth and heavens, the stars and the darkness disappeared in a flash of brilliant light, he felt himself falling through infinite space for an infinite time in the glow of that fierce flame in which the universe had disappeared, and then with a sharp shock, light and feeling were swallowed up in black unconscious

Then Mrs. Sandridge stopped and stared with curiosity and evident awe at Aprilla's garb, hesitating to come nearer.

But Aprilla having paid the man who had driven her from the station, ran up impulsively and flung her arms about Mrs. Sandridge.

"O, you dear, good auntie!" she cried between kisses. You can't think how I've been pining to see you!"

"My, my! gasped Mrs. Sandridge, beaming with pleasure. "You'll spile your gown, first thing you know. Is n't it elegant? How much did it cost a yard? And that bunnit! My, my!" And Mrs. Sandridge clasped her hands in admiration and backed away, lest she should be responsible for the ruin of the costume.

Aprilla laughed merrily and made another assault on Mrs. Sandridge, without the slightest consideration for gown or hat. "Why, this is nothing," she said. "You ought to see the others. You don't know what a butterfly I have become. 1 believe I've been a martyr to dressmakers more than half the time I've been gone."

"My, my!" said Mrs. Sandridge again, feebly disengaging herself. "And why did n't you send word you were coming, so that somebody could meet you at the train?"

"You see," explained Aprilla, putting her arm around Mrs. Sandridge and leading her to the house, " it was this way. I just took a notion that I wanted to see you and the ranch and all. And I just came without waiting for second thoughts. I knew I could get Mr. Porter to drive me up from the station. So here I am. And I'm so glad to be here! What a dear place it is! O, I could kiss everything here-except Ah Foo and the other men things." And Aprilla ran through the rooms, then back again to Mrs. Sandridge, and at last flung herself into the easy chair, declaring that she was "all tired out."

"Well, supper 'll be ready in a few minutes," said Mrs. Sandridge, eyeing Aprilla more critically, and not sure whether she