From his arms the girl's hands rose slowly to his shoulders, to his
face, caressingly, pleadingly; her beautiful eyes glowed, half with
terror, half with a prayer to him.
"Don't!" she breathed again, so close that her sweet breath fell warm on
his face. "Don't--if you--if you care for me!"
Gently he drew her close in his arms, crushing her face to his breast,
kissing her hair, her eyes, her mouth.
"I love you," he whispered again and again.
The steps were resumed, the voices died away. Then there came a pressure
against his breast, a gentle resistance, and he opened his arms so that
the girl drew back from him. Her lips were smiling at him, and in that
smile there was gentle accusation, the sweetness of forgiveness, and he
could see that with these there had come also a flush into her cheeks
and a dazzling glow into her eyes.
"They are gone," she said tremblingly.
"Yes; they are gone."
He stood looking down into her glowing face in silence. Then, "They are
gone," he repeated. "They were the men who tried to kill me at Prince
Albert. I have let them go--for you. Will you tell me your name?"
"Yes--that much--now. It is Meleese."
"Meleese!"
The name fell from him sharply.
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