“And mine. I think that I should be doing good service in killing you even though I lose my life.”
The man hesitated and stepped back into the room with a look of absolute terror on his face. He had not lied when he said that he loved her dearly, and it was terrible to him to think that she hated him so much that she would sooner die than be his wife. He tried persuasion, but to that she would not answer, standing statue-like, holding the taper in her unshaking hand.
“What good can it do you?” he said. “You must yield in time.”
“If I feel that I am growing weak,” she replied, “at that moment I will fire the powder. At the least I shall go to my Maker pure, and send you to your Judge at the same moment. From this time I will not answer you a word.”
She drew a block close to the side of the keg and sat down with a bundle of tapers by her side. The one she held burned low, and she lighted another and waited as calmly as before, while above her the hungry eyes of Rafe Norris looked down at the prize he could not reach. He hoped that she would sleep, but the peculiar brightness of her eyes convinced him that it was impossible. Only fatigue, hunger or thirst could overcome her, and she had sworn that when that time came she would fire the train.
Twice he called to her as the hours passed on, but neither by sign, word or look did she show that she knew any thing of his presence, although her eyes never left the opening in the floor. In his madness he revolved in his mind a thousand plans to get her away from the powder if but for a moment, but it was useless; none of his plans were feasible while he could not draw from her a single look or sign of recognition. He felt that he could not bear this suspense much longer, but it must be borne. Hour after hour crept on; the tapers burned out, one by one, and as the first gray streaks of the morning light showed themselves in the east she took up the last taper and calmly lighted it.
“Ha! ha! ha!” he cried, exultantly; “your lights are gone. In a moment I shall have you in my power.”
She spoke now for the first time since she had sealed her lips.
“It will burn for an hour,” she said. “I will spend that hour in praying to God to take me in mercy to his rest, and when the taper burns low I will fire the powder.”
“You dare not, girl,” he hissed. “It is murder. You cannot destroy yourself in that cruel way. Oh, heaven, what shall I do? I will give you up—do you hear? I will give you up.”