ave colour
to the idea, that he might be equally the victim of deception about the
other. It was in the hope of being able to hold him guiltless I had so
closely questioned Marian: for instinct had already whispered me that in
his hands, more than in aught else, rested my hope or my ruin. For that
reason had I been so eager to ascertain his inclinings.

That he was under some obligation to the pseudo-apostle was perfectly
clear. More than a mere obligation; something that produced a condition
of awe: as I had myself been a witness. Some dark secret, no doubt, was
shared between them. But were it ever so dark even were it black
murder--it might not be, on the part of Holt, a voluntary endurance: and
Marian had hinted at something of this sort. Here--out in the midst of
the wild desert--far from justice and from judges--punishment for an old
offence might be less dreaded; and a man of the bold stamp of this
Tennesseean squatter might hopefully dream of escaping from the ties of
terror by which his spirit had so long been enthralled? Conjectures of
this nature were chasing one another through my brain; and not without
the effect of once more giving a brighter tinge to the colour of my
mental horizon. I naturally turned my eyes upon Marian. In her I
beheld an ally of no ordinary kind--one whose motive for aiding me to
rescue her sister, could be scarce less powerful than my own.

Poor girl! she was still in the enjoyment of those moments of bliss!
She knew not the misery that was yet in store for her. Wingrove had my
directions to be silent upon that theme--the more easily obeyed in the
fulness of his own happiness. It was no pleasant task to dash from
their lips, the cup of sweet joy; but the time was pressing, and as the
sacrifice must come, it might as well come at once. I saw that the
Utahs had given up the pursuit. Most of them had returned to the scene
of their short conflict; while others, singly or in squads, were moving
towards the butte. The women, too, were approaching--some with the
wounded--some carrying the bodies of the slain warriors--chaunting the
dismal death-song as they marched solemnly along. Casting a glance at
the wailing multitude, I leaped down from the rock, and rapidly
descended to the plain.

CHAPTER EIGHTY SIX.

A TRUE TIGRESS.

I walked out towards the stream. The lovers met me halfway. As I
looked in their eyes, illumined and sparkling with the pure light of
love, I