“And before another week is gone, they will say, too, that like the wolf, I love blood, for I will have rivers of it!” cried Girty, savagely.
Virginia’s heart sunk within her as she looked upon the angry face of the renegade.
“And now your fate; can you guess what it is to be?” he asked.
“No,” Virginia answered.
“You’re to be mine—my slave. This is the vengeance that will scar your father’s heart and make him curse the hour when he dared to wrong me!” Triumph swelled in the voice of the renegade as he spoke.
Virginia—hapless maid—felt that she was lost indeed.
“Oh! why can I not die at once?” she murmured, in despair.
The renegade gazed upon his victim with a smile of triumph.
“First my vengeance, and then death can come to your aid as soon as fate pleases. It will be rare joy for me to tell your father of the shame that has come upon you. It is almost worth waiting for all these years.”
“You are a wolf, indeed,” Virginia murmured, slowly.