And he knew it was not his old self speaking. It
was this softer, gentler man who had awakened to new thoughts in
the quiet valley. Tenderness, masterful in him now, matched the
absence of joy and blunted the knife-edge of entering jealousy.
Strong and passionate effort of will, surprising to him, held
back the poison from piercing his soul.
"Wait!...Wait!" he cried, as if calling. His hand pressed his
breast, and he might have called to the pang there. "Wait! It's
all so strange--so wonderful. Anything can happen. Who am I to
judge her? I'll glory in my love for her. But I can't tell
it--can't give up to it."
Certainly he could not then decide her future. Marrying her was
impossible in Surprise Valley and in any village south of
Sterling. Even without the mask she had once worn she would
easily have been recognized as Oldring's Rider. No man who had
ever seen her would forget her, regardless of his ignorance as to
her sex. Then more poignant than all other argument was the fact
that he did not want to take her away from Surprise Valley. He
resisted all thought of that. He had brought her to the most
beautiful and wildest place of the uplands; he had saved her,
nursed her back to strength, watched her bloom as one of the
valley lilies; he knew her life there to be pure and sweet--she
belonged to him, and he loved her. Still these were not all the
reasons why he did not want to take her away.
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