" His arms tightened still more about her, and his voice was
suddenly filled with a tense quick eagerness. "Why don't you tell me
everything?" he asked. "You believe that if I knew certain things I
would never want to see you again, that I would go back into the South.
You have told me that. Then--if you want me to go--why don't you reveal
these things to me? If you can't do that, go with me to-night. We will
go anywhere--to the ends of the earth--"
He stopped at the look that had come into her face. Her eyes were turned
to the window. He saw them filled with a strange terror, and
involuntarily his own followed them to where the storm was beating
softly against the window-pane. Close to the lighted glass was pressed a
man's face. He caught a flashing glimpse of a pair of eyes staring in
at them, of a thick, wild beard whitened by the snow. He knew the face.
When life seemed slipping out of his throat he had looked up into it
that night of the ambush on the Great North Trail. There was the same
hatred, the same demoniac fierceness in it now.
With a quick movement Howland sprang away from the girl and leveled his
revolver to where the face had been. Over the shining barrel he saw only
the taunting emptiness of the storm.
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