felt as if vouchsafed a glimpse of Eden. Suddenly recalling himself, he said: “Pardon my selfishness, you must be tired.”

“Not a bit,” she replied gaily. “Are you fond of the guitar?”

“Very, and your singing is a rare treat,” he replied sincerely. “My life has been spent largely in mining camps, and the music in such places is not, to say the least, classical.”

“Have you always lived in Nevada?”

“Nevada and California.”

“That includes San Francisco and Chinatown of course?”

“Of course, but usually ‘California’ means Southern California; the land of flowers, fruits and perpetual sunshine.”

33 “True, but Chinatown must be very interesting.”

33

“Five minutes in a Chinese theater would effectively disillusion you, Miss De Vere. The orchestra is a thing of terror, although I am told that Chinese music has a scientific theory and recognized scale, but to the Caucasian ear it is simply beyond belief.”

“I trust you will appreciate our mountains in summer, though you probably consider these hills,” laughed Celeste.

But Hernando was thinking of neither Nevada nor hills. That sweet face, those great brown eyes were raised to his trustfully, and he forgot his own name, while a thrill went through him.

“One always associates Nevada with snowy mountains and balsamy air,” Celeste continued.

Glancing out of the window she saw Eletheer in rubber boots and short skirts with Cornelia on her back, wading through the slush toward the barn. Celeste looked shocked, but attracted Hernando’s attention34 indoors. She was a little late, however, for seeing her expression, he glanced out just in time to hear Eletheer say, “Hold on tight,” and off they sped.

34

“I trust she will not fall down with the little one,” said Hernando.

“Eletheer fall!” and Celeste laughed a soft ripple. “She never does that, and it is impossible to lose her in these mountains. When Cornelia was not a year old, mother spied her in the very top of an apple tree sitting in Eletheer’s lap.”

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