ning to show in her cheek. "I have dropped some seed into my canyon."
"I think I see the flowers beginning to spring," said The Pilot.
She shook her head doubtfully and replied:
"I shall ride up and sit with Gwen at her window."
"Do," replied The Pilot, "the light is good there. Wonderful things are to be seen through Gwen's window."
"Yes," said Lady Charlotte softly. "Dear Gwen!—but I fear it is often made bright with tears.'
As she spoke she wheeled her horse and cantered off, for her own tears were not far away. I followed her in thought up the trail winding through the round-topped hills and down through the golden lights of the canyon and into Gwen's room. I could see the pale face, with its golden aureole, light up and glow, as they sat before the window while Lady Charlotte would tell her how Gwen's Canyon looked to-day and how in her own bleak canyon there was the sign of flowers.
