He was a lonely and reserved man, outwardly cold. He had spent most of his twenty-six years in the open, leading the rough life of a frontier officer. His men respected his courage and resourcefulness, but they thought him hard, unsympathetic. And so he was, except in the wilderness, alone. Rivers, trees, and mountains had been his friends. He knew as much of woodcraft and the ways of beasts as an Indian.

No woman had ever before touched his soul. Yet he had told her the simple truth when he said that he had dreamed of her. Deep hidden in him there ran a strain of mysticism, inherited from his Gaelic forefathers.

When he had seen her there in the theater, he had felt his formless yearning satisfied. They had looked at each other and he had seen, beneath her pretty face, the unawakened passion and fire of her spirit. He had not thought of anything so banal as love in the conventional sense. He did not do so now. But he knew that they belonged together; that in each the other would find completion. She had felt it, too, yet now he could no longer reach her. Her betrothal of itself would not have deterred him: he was accustomed to a simpler society, a lawless country where a man takes the woman he wants. It was the change in the girl herself.

He saw her as a prisoner, a willing, eager prisoner who had escaped her chains for a little while, and now rushed back to them bewildered, clinging to the dear familiarity of her confinement.

Yet he could not believe his dismissal. He used the name which he had just learned was hers. 'Theodosia——' It was a call so intense and fraught with emotion that Aaron was astounded. How in Heaven's name had all this come about in so short a time? His arm tightened around his daughter. 'My dear girl, really—will you be good enough to bid this insistent gentleman good night and Godspeed?'

Theo raised her heavy lashes. Her dark eyes were veiled. They met Lewis's pleading despair, and a hot pain went through her breast. But the sureness and the vision were gone. The pattern of her life could not so quickly be unraveled. Aaron was right, as always. Soldiers did dally with pretty faces, and this backwoods captain had dared to criticize her father.

'Good-bye, Captain Lewis,' she said slowly, and turned her head away.

The corners of his mouth bent in a bitter smile. We are not done with each other yet, Theodosia, he thought. Some day we shall meet again. But it will not be the same: our lives will have curved too far apart. He made her a short bow, and walked rapidly off without looking back.