n the young man with more severity than his voice
often expressed. "Where is she? What is she doing? I wish to see her."

It was the judge who told him that she was in her own room, together
with the older ladies, all in attendance upon the injured man. The
priest then saw the second swift darkening of Philip Alston's face.

"I will go up to her room," he said quietly. "I wish to be sure that she
has not been harmed."

As he rose, there was a sound outside. He turned to the open door and
saw two horsemen approaching at a gallop. It was light enough for him to
see and recognize the attorney-general and the doctor. The other men
hurriedly went out to meet them. Philip Alston stood still in a shadowed
corner of the great room, while the rest hastened up the stairway and
into the chamber where Paul Colbert lay. And then he followed them with
his swift, light step, and pausing upon the threshold, looked into the
open room, his gaze first seeking Ruth. She stood on the other side of
the chamber, apart from the group around the bed. But she did not see
him; her eyes and hands and thoughts were on the bandages which she was
hastily preparing. He shrank from what she was doing and turning hastily
away fixed his eyes on the attorney-general. Thus, silently looking and
listening, he presently heard him say how deeply he regretted being
compelled to leave the country before knowing the result of his friend's
wound, adding that he was leaving on the next day for Tippecanoe. Philip
Alston barely glanced at the white face lying against the pillow. He was
disturbed and even shocked to see it there. He felt this stranger's
presence in her chamber to be a desecration. And then the sight of
suffering always made him uncomfortable. He wondered how she could
endure it. The repulsion which the average man feels for any affliction
of mind, body, or estate was so intensified in him that he could not,
with all his intelligence, understand that the very sight of great
suffering nobly borne, does much to win a woman's heart.

XXI

THE EAGLE IN THE DOVE'S NEST

The worst hurt that Paul Colbert had received was from a blow on the
head, which had stunned and nearly killed him. But there had been no
lasting injury, even from this, and the knife-wound in his shoulder had
healed rapidly; he was young, and strong, and healthy.

On the morning of the seventh day he awoke and looked at Ruth. He was
feeling almost well, but had no inclinatio