Sleep she felt never would come that night.

She wanted to think; she could not help but think; and she tried to halt the whirl of her mind.

Wilson Moore occupied the foremost place in her varying thoughts--a fact quite remarkable and unaccountable.

She tried to change it.

In vain! Wilson persisted--on his white mustang flying across the ridge-top--coming to her as never before--with his anger and disapproval--his strange, poignant cry, "Columbine!" that haunted her--with his bitter smile and his resignation and his mocking talk of jealousy.