"I am waiting," he whispered; but something in the voice said more and told her of the torture of his doubt.
At last, very slowly, her face came up and her eyes met his. They were misty eyes, but smiling, and as he bent with a wild leaping of his pulses and took her in his arms, her lips, too, met his, responsive to his kisses.
Finally he rose, and now it was his own hands that trembled and his own senses that swam with the intoxication of a happiness which seemed to him miraculous.
"I suppose," laughed the girl, "I ought to be ashamed to surrender so quickly—but I'm not. I'm very proud."
For a moment after that they sat silent and across the moonlight came the band music and the softened laughter of the dancers. And it was at that moment that Newt Spooner, so close that they could almost have heard his breathing, was reaching into his pocket for his borrowed revolver. The pause was brief, for the girl, looking into her lover's eyes, became suddenly beset by a new thought—perhaps some subtle premonition—and in its wake came panic. She laid her hands on his shoulders and bent so close that he could feel the play of her breath on his forehead.
"But you are going back there," she exclaimed; "back to the mountains, and I'm afraid. Are you in any danger, because, if you are, you sha'n't go! I won't let you go. Why, only to-day, there in Winchester, think what happened!"
The man laughed.
"I sha'n't be hurt," he assured her. "Your love will be my talisman."
"If my love has such power," she exclaimed, "you will go on living to the end of time."
He took her two hands in his.