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Grey, Zane, 1872-1939

"Riders of the Purple Sage"


Bess's eyes were still fixed upon him with all her soul bright in
that wistful light. Swiftly, resolutely he put out of mind all of
her life except what had been spent with him. He scorned himself
for the intelligence that made him still doubt. He meant to judge
her as she had judged him. He was face to face with the
inevitableness of life itself. He saw destiny in the dark,
straight path of her wonderful eyes. Here was the simplicity, the
sweetness of a girl contending with new and strange and
enthralling emotions here the living truth of innocence; here the
blind terror of a woman confronted with the thought of death to
her savior and protector. All this Venters saw, but, besides,
there was in Bess's eyes a slow-dawning consciousness that seemed
about to break out in glorious radiance.
"Bess, are you thinking?" he asked.
"Yes--oh yes!"
"Do you realize we are here alone--man and woman?"
"Yes."
"Have you thought that we may make our way out to civilization,
or we may have to stay here--alone--hidden from the world all our
lives?"
"I never thought--till now."
"Well, what's your choice--to go--or to stay here--alone with
me?"
"Stay!" New-born thought of self, ringing vibrantly in her voice,
gave her answer singular power.
Venters trembled, and then swiftly turned his gaze from her
face--from her eyes. He knew what she had only half divined--that
she loved him.


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