There was no smile on his lips and another note in his voice caused her to look at him keenly. The bowl of his pipe had dropped and his gaze was fixed upon the fire. It was a new—and distinct impression that he made upon her now—a not altogether pleasant one. Until a moment ago, he had been merely a man in the woods—a kindly person of intelligence with a talent for the building of balsam beds; in the last few minutes he had developed an outline, a quite too visible personality, and instinctively she withdrew from the contact.

“I think I can sleep now,” she said.

He understood. His place was at the fireside and he took it without reluctance, aware of a sense of self-reproach. It had been her privilege to be a fool—but not his. He threw a careless glance at her over his shoulder.

“If you’re still timid, I’ll sit up and watch.”

“No, you mustn’t do that.” But by this time he had taken another coal for his pipe and sitting, Indian-fashion, was calmly puffing.

“I’m going to, anyway,” he said. “Don’t bother about me, please.”

Without reply she stretched herself on the couch and disposed herself again to sleep. This time she buried her head in her arms and lay immovable. He knew that she was not asleep and that she was still listening for the menace of the silences; but he knew, too, that if suffer she must, he could not help her. A moment ago he had been on the point of taking her in his arms and soothing her as he would have done a child. They had been very close in spirit at that moment, drawn together like two vessels alone in a calm waste of water. It was the appeal[32] of her helplessness to his strength, his strength to her helplessness, of course, and yet——

[32]

For a long while Gallatin watched the flames as they rose and fell and the column of smoke that drifted upward on the still night air and lost itself among the leaves overhead. The voices he heard no more. The fire crackled, a vagrant breeze sighed, a bird called somewhere, but he realized that he was listening for another sound. The girl had not moved since he had last spoken, and now he heard the rhythmic breathing which told him that at last she was asleep. He waited some moments more, then softly arose, took up his coat, which he had thrown over a log, and laid it gently over her shoulders. Then he crept back to his fire.

[33]

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