All that day, she watched the battle--saw him fighting with himself. He
kept apart from her, and spoke but little. When night came, as soon as
supper was over, he again left the cabin, to spend the long, dark hours in
a struggle that the girl could only dimly sense. She could not understand;
but she felt him fighting, fighting; and she knew that he fought for her.
What was it? What terrible unseen force mastered this man,--compelled him
to do its bidding,--even while he hated and loathed himself for
submitting?
Watchful, ready, hoping, despairing, the helpless girl could only pray
that her companion might be given strength.
The following morning, at breakfast, he told her that he must go to
Granite Peak to signal. His orders were to lock her in the cabin, and to
go alone; but he would not. She might go with him, if she chose.
Even this crumb of encouragement--that he would so far disobey his
master--filled the girl's heart with hope. "I would love to go with you,
Mr. Marston," she said, "but if it is going to make trouble for you, I
would rather stay."
"You mean that you would rather be locked up in the cabin all day, than to
make trouble for me?" he asked.
"It wouldn't be so terrible," she answered, "and I would like to do
something--something to--to show you that I appreciate your, kindness to
me.
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