When night came she was glad to go to bed, for what with loss of sleep, and weariness she could scarcely keep her eyes open.
The following morning she awakened early, bright, eager, expectant, full of bounding life, strangely aware of the beauty and sweetness of the scented forest, strangely conscious of some nameless stimulus to her feelings.
Not long was Ellen in associating this new and delightful variety of sensations with the fact that Jean Isbel had set to-day for his ride up to the Rim to see her.

Ellen's joyousness fled; her smiles faded.

The spring morning lost its magic radiance.
"Shore there's no sense in my lyin' to myself," she soliloquized, thoughtfully.

"It's queer of me--feelin' glad aboot him--without knowin'.

Lord! I must be lonesome! To be glad of seein' an Isbel, even if he is different!" Soberly she accepted the astounding reality.