For she has been looking at the shaft of the Mineral Hill Mine, upon which the English company are now commencing to work, and her thoughts are on the man who she feels has deserted her.
Then, as Ralph embraces her, a shudder runs through her; but it is not of cold, though snow is falling, but it is the chill of her heart as she thinks: "But for this man, whose lips are now pressed to mine, Harry Lawrence would not despise me!"
But Travenion mutters in her ear: "It is late now—you must leave at once, for the days are quite short!" and beckons Pioche George to approach.
"You can trust us, bishop, to take her through," George remarks, noticing the old man's agitation as he gives the daughter of his heart his last kiss.
Then Erma hurries down the hill, and he, sitting on the deserted dump pile of his mine, watches her until Pioche George lifts her into the wagon and it drives away over the snow-white road, making across the West Tintic Valley, and so towards Ophir and Tooele, for Travenion has directed them to go by this somewhat roundabout road, to avoid any chance of meeting Kruger, perhaps even now returning from his errand to the heads of the Mormon theocracy in Salt Lake.
Looking on this he says: "She is safe!" and laughs: "I will be safe myself, shortly! Now for my bachelor quarters!" and goes slowly again into the mine.
About half way down the incline he starts, pauses, and listens, muttering: "I thought I heard a noise." Then sneers at himself, "Some stone touched by your foot—you're weak-kneed, Ralph."
Continuing his descent and holding his candle in front of him, he comes to his quarters, where he says, looking about: "This is a pretty comfortable spot to kill time by champagne, a weed, and a novel."
Which he does, lighting one or two more candles, to give him better illumination, then gently sipping the Clicquot, between puffs of a Bouquet Especial, as he turns over the leaves of a new French romance, which seems to amuse him greatly.
And all the while, from the darkness of the level, beyond the incline, two red eyes glare at this sybarite as he chuckles over the jokes of Monsieur Paul de Kock.