"And I laugh at what y'u call love, Jean Isbel." "Laugh if you want--but believe it was sweet, honorable--the best in me," he replied, in deep earnestness.
"Bah!" cried Ellen, with all the force of her pain and shame and hate.
"By Heaven, you must be different from what I thought!" exclaimed Isbel, huskily.
"Shore if I wasn't, I'd make myself....

Now, Mister Jean Isbel, get on your horse an' go!" Something of composure came to Ellen with these words of dismissal, and she glanced up at him with half-veiled eyes.

His changed aspect prepared her for some blow.
"That's a pretty black horse." "Yes," replied Ellen, blankly.
"Do you like him ?" "I--I love him." "All right, I'll give him to you then.

He'll have less work and kinder treatment than if I used him.

I've got some pretty hard rides ahead of me." "Y'u--y'u give--" whispered Ellen, slowly stiffening.