--to love!

All this tender exchange with half a dozen feet between them. Kitty had
not stirred from the far side of the tea cart, and he had not opened his
arms. She had given herself with magnificent abandon; for the present
that satisfied her instincts. As for him, he was not quite sure this
miracle might not be a dream, and one false move might cause her to
vanish.

"Johnny, who is Olga?" The question was irrepressible. Perhaps it was
the last shred of caution binding her. All of him or none of him. There
must be no other woman intervening.

Hawksley stiffened in his chair. His hands closed convulsively and his
eyes lost their brightness. "Johnny?" Kitty ran round the tea cart.
"What is it?" She knelt beside the chair, alarmed, for the horror had
returned to his face. "What did they do to you back there?" She clasped
one of his hands tensely in hers.

"In my dreams at night!" he said, staring into space. "I could run away
from my pursuers, but I could not run away from my dreams! Torches and
hobnailed boots!... They trampled on her; and I, up there in the gallery
with those damned emeralds in my hands! Ah, if I hadn't gone for them,
if I hadn't thought of the extra comforts their sale would bring! There
would have been time then, Kitty. I had all the other jewels in the
pouch. Horses were ready for us to flee on, loyal servants ready to help
us; but I thought of the drums. A few more worldly comforts--with hell
forcing in the doors!

"I didn't tell her where I was going. When I came back it was to see
her die! They saw me, and yelled. I ran away. I hadn't the courage to
go down there and die with her! She thought I was in that hell pit. She
went down there to die with me and died horribly, alone! Ah, if I could
only shut it out, forget! Olga, my tender young sister, Kitty, the last
one of my race I could love. And I ran away like a yellow dog, like a
yellow dog! I don't know where her grave is, and I could not seek it if
I did! I dared not write Stefani; tell him I had seen Olga go down under
Karlov's heels, and then ran away!... Day by day to feel those stones
against my heart!"

Nothing is more terrible to a woman than the sight of a brave man
weeping. For she knew that he was brave. The sudden recollection of
the emeralds; a little more comfort for himself and sister if they were
permitted to escape. Not a cowardly instinct, not even a greedy one; a
normal desire to fortify them additionally against an unk