different from those about her? The
brother was not so, not so much so; the mother had been plain and quiet.
He had not known her father, for he had lately come to this State in
hiding from another. He wondered, with his wide knowledge of the world,
over her wild, haughty beauty, and gloated over it. He liked to think just
what worth was within his easy grasp. A prize for the taking, and here
alone, unprotected.

"But it ain't good for you to be alone, you know, and I've come to protect
you. Besides, you need cheering up, little girl." He came closer. "I love
you, Bess, you know, and I'm going to take care of you now. You're all
alone. Poor little girl."

He was so near that she almost felt his breath against her cheek. She
faced him desperately, growing white to the lips. Was there nothing on
earth or in heaven to save her? Mother! Father! Brother! All gone! Ah!
Could she but have known that the quarrel which ended her wild young
brother's life had been about her, perhaps pride in him would have salved
her grief, and choked her horror.

While she watched the green lights play in the evil eyes above her, she
gathered all the strength of her young life into one effort, and schooled
herself to be calm. She controlled her involuntary shrinking from the man,
only drew herself back gently, as a woman with wider experience and
gentler breeding might have done.

"Remember," she said, "that my brother just lay there dead!" and she
pointed to the empty centre of the room. The dramatic attitude was almost
a condemnation to the guilty man before her. He drew back as if the
sheriff had entered the room, and looked instinctively to where the coffin
had been but a short time before, then laughed nervously and drew himself
together.

The girl caught her breath, and took courage. She had held him for a
minute; could she not hold him longer?

"Think!" said she. "He is but just buried. It is not right to talk of such
things as love in this room where he has just gone out. You must leave me
alone for a little while. I cannot talk and think now. We must respect the
dead, you know." She looked appealingly at him, acting her part
desperately, but well. It was as if she were trying to charm a lion or an
insane man.

He stood admiring her. She argued well. He was half minded to humor her,
for somehow when she spoke of the dead he could see the gleam in her
brother's eyes just before he shot him. Then there was promise in this
wooing.