He was having a sore
fight with his pride, and he got body-
worn and heart-sick over it. Of course
he was worsted, and in the end, from
sheer weakness, he went back to her
once more.
I shall never see another face like his
when Grayson came back that last time.
I never noticed before that there were
silver hairs about his temples. He stayed
in his room, and had his meals sent to
him. He came out only to ride, and then
at night. Waking the third morning at
daybreak, I saw him through the window
galloping past, and I knew he had spent
the night on Black Mountain. I went
to his room as soon as I got up, and
Grayson was lying across his bed with
his face down, his clothes on, and in his
right hand was a revolver. I reeled
into a chair before I had strength enough
to bend over him, and when I did I
found him asleep. I left him as he was,
and I never let him know that I had
been to his room; but I got him out on
the rock again that night, and I turned
our talk again to suicide. I said it was
small, mean, cowardly, criminal,
contemptible! I was savagely in earnest,
and Grayson shivered and said not a
word.
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