I didn't
need to ask my question here. The day, you remember, when that
fat party throwed a gun on me in your court, an'--"
"Oh! Hush!" whispered Jane, blindly holding up her hands.
"I seen in your face that Dyer, now a bishop, was the proselyter
who ruined Milly Erne."
For an instant Jane Withersteen's brain was a whirling chaos and
she recovered to find herself grasping at Lassiter like one
drowning. And as if by a lightning stroke she sprang from her
dull apathy into exquisite torture.
"It's a lie! Lassiter! No, no!" she moaned. "I swear--you're
wrong!"
"Stop! You'd perjure yourself! But I'll spare you that. You poor
woman! Still blind! Still faithful!...Listen. I know. Let that
settle it. An' I give up my purpose!"
"What is it--you say?"
"I give up my purpose. I've come to see an' feel differently. I
can't help poor Milly. An' I've outgrowed revenge. I've come to
see I can be no judge for men. I can't kill a man jest for hate.
Hate ain't the same with me since I loved you and little Fay."
"Lassiter! You mean you won't kill him?" Jane whispered.
"No."
"For my sake?"
"I reckon. I can't understand, but I'll respect your
feelin's."
"Because you--oh, because you love me?...Eighteen years! You were
that terrible Lassiter! And now--because you love me?"
"That's it, Jane."
"Oh, you'll make me love you! How can I help but love you? My
heart must be stone.
Pages:
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360