And for him--Philip Steele--there was hope--hope--Suddenly it dawned upon him what the flowers meant.

The colonel had written the letter, and Isobel had sent the faded violets, with their golden thread.

It was her message to him--a message without words, and yet with a deeper meaning for him than words could have expressed.

In a flood there rushed back upon him all the old visions which he had fought against, and he saw her again in the glow of the campfire, and on the trail, glorious in her beauty, his ideal of all that a woman should be.
He rose to his feet and locked his door, fearing that some one might enter.

He wanted to be alone, to realize fully what had happened, to regain control of his emotions.