I am all right," she assured him. "But I simply couldn't rest till I
saw you with my own eyes. When I heard they let you off I was afraid
it was a false report. Sometimes, when those men do a bad thing they
try to cover it up. Oh, Mr. Westerfelt, I am so--so miserable!"

He caught her hands and tried to draw her into his room out of the
draught which came up the stairs, but she would not go farther than the
door.

"No, I must hurry back home" she said. "Mother did not want me to come
anyway; she didn't think it looked right, but I was so--so worried."

"I understand." He was feasting his eyes on hers; it was as if their
hunger could never be appeased. "Oh, I'm so glad you come I've had you
on my mind--"

But she interrupted him suddenly. Looking round at the bleak room and
its scant furniture, she said: "I--I thought may be I could persuade
you now to come back to your room at the hotel, where mother and I
could wait on you. You do not look as well as you did, Mr. Westerfelt."

He smiled and shook his head.

"It's mighty good of you to ask me," he returned, "but this is good
enough for me, and I don't want to be such a bother. The Lord knows I
was enough trouble when I was there."

A look of sharp pain came upon her sensitive face for an instant, then
she said; "I wish you wouldn't talk that way; you weren't one bit of
trouble."

He looked away from her. He was, indeed, not at his best. His beard
had grown out on his usually clean-shaven face and his cheeks looked
sallow and sunken. He was tingling all over with a raging desire to
throw his arms about her and tell her how he loved her and longed to
make her his wife, but suddenly a mind-picture of Toot Wambush rose
before him. He saw her deliberately lying to the officers to save him
from arrest, and--worse than all--he saw her in the arms of the
outlaw's father sobbing out a confession of her love. He told himself
then, almost in abject terror of some punishment held over him by God
Himself, that Mrs. Dawson's prayers would be answered--if--if he gave
way. "No," he commanded himself, "I shall stand firm. She's not for
me, though she may love me--though she does love me now and would wipe
out the past with her life. A woman as changeable as that would change
again." Then a jealous rage flared up within him, and he laid a
threatening hand on either of her shoulders and glared into her eyes.

"I told you last night I'd never bring up a certain