It seemed like instant, daring suicide in him to stand on that swaying, clattering house as it moved off irresponsibly down the plane of vision.

She watched him till he was out of sight, a mere speck on the horizon of the prairie; and then she turned her horse slowly into the road, and went her way into the world alone.
The man stood on the platform, and watched her as he whirled away--a little brown girl on a little brown horse, so stanch and firm and stubborn and good.

Her eyes were dear, and her lips as she smiled; and her hand was beautiful as it waved him good-by.

She was dear, dear, dear! Why had he not known it?
Why had he left her?
Yet how could he stay?
His mother was dying perhaps.

He must not fail her in what might be her last summons.
Life and death were pulling at his heart, tearing him asunder.
The vision of the little brown girl and the little brown horse blurred and faded.