Then she had wandered
through the deep grass, her tiny feet scarcely turning a fragile
blade, and she had dreamed beside some old faded flowers. Thus
her steps led her into the broad lane. The little dimpled
imprints of her bare feet showed clean-cut in the dust they went
a little way down the lane; and then, at a point where they
stopped, the great tracks of a man led out from the shrubbery and
returned.
CHAPTER XX. LASSITER'S WAY
Footprints told the story of little Fay's abduction. In anguish
Jane Withersteen turned speechlessly to Lassiter, and, confirming
her fears, she saw him gray-faced, aged all in a moment, stricken
as if by a mortal blow.
Then all her life seemed to fall about her in wreck and ruin.
"It's all over," she heard her voice whisper. "It's ended. I'm
going--I'm going--"
"Where?" demanded Lassiter, suddenly looming darkly over her.
"To--to those cruel men--"
"Speak names!" thundered Lassiter.
"To Bishop Dyer--to Tull," went on Jane, shocked into
obedience.
"Well--what for?"
"I want little Fay. I can't live without her. They've stolen her
as they stole Milly Erne's child. I must have little Fay. I want
only her. I give up. I'll go and tell Bishop Dyer--I'm broken.
I'll tell him I'm ready for the yoke--only give me back
Fay--and--and I'll marry Tull!"
"Never!" hissed Lassiter.
His long arm leaped at her.
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