Taine had said to her in the studio was swept
away. The cruel falsehoods, the heartless misrepresentations, the vile
accusations that had caused her to seek the refuge of the mountains and
the protection of her childhood friends were, in the blaze of her awakened
passion, burned to ashes; her cry to the convict--"I love him, I love
him"--was more than an expression of her love; it was a triumphant
assertion of her belief in his love for her--it was her answer to the evil
seeing world that could not comprehend their fellowship.
As the life within the man forced him slowly toward consciousness, the
girl, natural as always in the full expression of herself, bent over him
with tender solicitude. With endearing words, she kissed his brow, his
hair, his hands. She called his name in tones of affection. "Aaron, Aaron,
Aaron." But when she saw that he was about to awake, she deftly slipped
off her jacket and, placing it under his head, drew a little back.
He opened his eyes and looked wonderingly up at the dark pines that
clothed the mountainsides. His lips moved and she heard her name; "Sibyl,
Sibyl."
She leaned forward, eagerly, her cheeks glowing with color. "Yes, Mr.
King.
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