hat was a
terrible hour for me. But it showed me the truth. I saw the struggle
between your passion to kill and your love for me. I could have saved
you then had I known what I know now. Now I understand that--that thing
which haunts you. But you'll never have to draw again. You'll never have
to kill another man, thank God!"

Like a drowning man he would have grasped at straws, but he could not
voice his passionate query.

She put tender arms round his neck. "Because you'll have me with
you always," she replied. "Because always I shall be between you and
that--that terrible thing."

It seemed with the spoken thought absolute assurance of her power came
to her. Duane realized instantly that he was in the arms of a stronger
woman that she who had plead with him that fatal day.

"We'll--we'll be married and leave Texas," she said, softly, with the
red blood rising rich and dark in her cheeks.

"Ray!"

"Yes we will, though you're laggard in asking me, sir."

"But, dear--suppose," he replied, huskily, "suppose there might be--be
children--a boy. A boy with his father's blood!"

"I pray God there will be. I do not fear what you fear. But even
so--he'll be half my blood."

Duane felt the storm rise and break in him. And his terror was that of
joy quelling fear. The shining glory of love in this woman's eyes made
him weak as a child. How could she love him--how could she so bravely
face a future with him? Yet she held him in her arms, twining her
hands round his neck, and pressing close to him. Her faith and love and
beauty--these she meant to throw between him and all that terrible past.
They were her power, and she meant to use them all. He dared not think
of accepting her sacrifice.

"But Ray--you dear, noble girl--I'm poor. I have nothing. And I'm a
cripple."

"Oh, you'll be well some day," she replied. "And listen. I have money.
My mother left me well off. All she had was her father's--Do you
understand? We'll take Uncle Jim and your mother. We'll go to
Louisiana--to my old home. It's far from here. There's a plantation to
work. There are horses and cattle--a great cypress forest to cut. Oh,
you'll have much to do. You'll forget there. You'll learn to love my
home. It's a beautiful old place. There are groves where the gray moss
blows all day and the nightingales sing all night."

"My darling!" cried Duane, brokenly. "No, no, no!"

Yet he knew in his heart that he was yielding to her, that he could not
re