If Miss Cullen had been noticing me, she would
have seen a terribly scared man.
But she wasn't, luckily, for the moment my hand touched her dress, and
before she could realize that I snatched it away, she collapsed on the
rock, and burst into tears. "Oh! oh!" she sobbed, "I begged papa not
to, but he insisted they were safest with me. I'll give them to you,
if you'll only go away and not--" Her tears made her inarticulate, and
without waiting for more I ran into the hut, feeling as near like a
murderer as a guiltless man could.
Lord Ralles by this time was making almost as much noise as an engine
pulling a heavy freight up grade under forced draft, swearing over his
trousers, and was offering the cowboy and Hance money to recover them.
When they told him this was impossible he tried to get them to sell or
hire a pair, but they didn't like the idea of riding into camp minus
those essentials any better than he did. While I waited they settled
the difficulty by strapping a blanket round him, and by splitting it
up the middle and using plenty of cord they rigged him out after a
fashion; but I think if he could have seen himself and been given an
option he would have preferred to wait till it was dark enough to
creep into camp unnoticed.
Before long Miss Cullen called, and when I went to her she handed me,
without a word, three letters. As she did so she crimsoned violently,
and looked down in her mortification. I was so sorry for her that,
though a moment before I had been judging her harshly, I now couldn't
help saying--
"Our positions have been so difficult, Miss Cullen, that I don't think
we either of us are quite responsible for our actions.
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