The faint rose-blush had paled. The warm, rich,
golden tint of her skin had fled. Dick dropped upon his knees and
bent over her. Though his blood was churning in his veins, his
breast laboring, his mind whirling with the wonder of that moment
and its promise, he made himself deliberate. He wanted more than
anything he had ever wanted in his life to see if she would keep
up that pretense of sleep and let him kiss her. She must have felt
his breath, for her hair waved off her brow. Her cheeks were now white.
Her breast swelled and sank. He bent down closer--closer. But he must
have been maddeningly slow, for as he bent still closer Nell's eyes opened,
and he caught a swift purple gaze of eyes as she whirled her head.
Then, with a little cry, she rose and fled.
X
ROJAS
NO word from George Thorne had come to Forlorn River in weeks.
Gale grew concerned over the fact, and began to wonder if anything
serious could have happened to him. Mercedes showed a slow, wearing strain.
Thorne's commission expired the end of January, and if he could not
get his discharge immediately, he surely could obtain leave of
absence. Therefore, Gale waited, not without growing anxiety, and
did his best to cheer Mercedes. The first of February came bringing
news of rebel activities and bandit operations in and around Casita,
but not a word from the cavalryman.
Mercedes became silent, mournful. Her eyes were great black
windows of tragedy.
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