And her
ringing voice sank into a broken, husky whisper. Then, spent and
pitiable, upheld by Lassiter's arm, she turned and hid her face
in Black Star's mane.
Numb as Venters was when at length Jane Withersteen lifted her
head and looked at him, he yet suffered a pang.
"Jane, the girl is innocent!" he cried.
"Can you expect me to believe that?" she asked, with weary,
bitter eyes.
"I'm not that kind of a liar. And you know it. If I lied--if I
kept silent when honor should have made me speak, it was to spare
you. I came to Cottonwoods to tell you. But I couldn't add to
your pain. I intended to tell you I had come to love this girl.
But, Jane I hadn't forgotten how good you were to me. I haven't
changed at all toward you. I prize your friendship as I always
have. But, however it may look to you--don't be unjust. The girl
is innocent. Ask Lassiter."
"Jane, she's jest as sweet an' innocent as little Fay," said
Lassiter. There was a faint smile upon his face and a beautiful
light.
Venters saw, and knew that Lassiter saw, how Jane Withersteen's
tortured soul wrestled with hate and threw it--with scorn doubt,
suspicion, and overcame all.
"Bern, if in my misery I accused you unjustly, I crave
forgiveness," she said. "I'm not what I once was. Tell me--who is
this girl?"
"Jane, she is Oldring's daughter, and his Masked Rider. Lassiter
will tell you how I shot her for a rustler, saved her life--all
the story.
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