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Young Jefferson Hope rode on with his companions, gloomy and
taciturn. He and they had been among the Nevada Mountains
prospecting for silver, and were returning to Salt Lake City
in the hope of raising capital enough to work some lodes
which they had discovered. He had been as keen as any of
them upon the business until this sudden incident had drawn
his thoughts into another channel. The sight of the fair
young girl, as frank and wholesome as the Sierra breezes,
had stirred his volcanic, untamed heart to its very depths.
When she had vanished from his sight, he realized that a crisis
had come in his life, and that neither silver speculations
nor any other questions could ever be of such importance to
him as this new and all-absorbing one. The love which had
sprung up in his heart was not the sudden, changeable fancy
of a boy, but rather the wild, fierce passion of a man of
strong will and imperious temper. He had been accustomed
to succeed in all that he undertook. He swore in his heart
that he would not fail in this if human effort and human
perseverance could render him successful.

He called on John Ferrier that night, and many times again,
until his face was a familiar one at the farm-house.
John, cooped up in the valley, and absorbed in his work,
had had little chance of learning the news of the outside world
during the last twelve years. All this Jefferson Hope was
able to tell him, and in a style which interested Lucy as
well as her father. He had been a pioneer in California,
and could narrate many a strange tale of fortunes made and
fortunes lost in those wild, halcyon days. He had been a
scout too, and a trapper, a silver explorer, and a ranchman.
Wherever stirring adventures were to be had, Jefferson Hope
had been there in search of them. He soon became a favourite
with the old farmer, who spoke eloquently of his virtues.
On such occasions, Lucy was silent, but her blushing cheek
and her bright, happy eyes, showed only too clearly that her
young heart was no longer her own. Her honest father may not
have observed these symptoms, but they were assuredly not
thrown away upon the man who had won her affections.

It was a summer evening when he came galloping down the road
and pulled up at the gate. She was at the doorway, and came
down to meet him. He threw the bridle over the fence and
strode up the pathway.

"I am off, Lucy," he said, taking her two hands in his,
and gazing tenderly down into her face; "I won't ask you
to come with me now, but will you be ready to come when
I am here again?"

"And when will that be?" she asked, blushing and laughing.

"A couple of months at the outside. I will come and claim
you then, my darling. There's no one who can stand between us."

"And how about father?" she asked.

"He has given his consent, provided we get these mines
working all right. I have no fear on that head.

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