"The women must manage it," he said to himself. His tender heart was wrung by the sight of that anguish.
It was Mattie who ministered to him, until Earle opened his eyes, and looked at her with a glance that frightened her.
"I remember it all," he said, hoarsely; "she has gone away because she did not love me—did not want to marry me. Will you leave me alone, Mattie?"
"If you will promise me not to do anything to hurt yourself," she said.
"I shall not do that. Do you know why? She promised to marry me, and she shall do it. To find her I will search the wide world through. I will follow her, even to the valley of the shadow of death, but she shall be my wife as she has promised to be—I swear it to the just high God!"
"Hush, my dear; your great sorrow drives you mad. You will think differently after a time."
"I shall not," he replied; "she shall be my wife. Listen, Mattie; bend down to me while I whisper. She shall be my wife, or I will kill her!"
"Hush! You do not mean it. Your sorrow has made you mad."
"No, I am not mad, Mattie." He held both her hands tightly in his own. "I am not mad, but I will have my just rights, or my just revenge." His breath flamed hotly upon her face. "You will remember that, on the day she fled from me, I swore never to rest until I found her; never to rest until she was my wife, and if she refused to be that, I swore to murder her!"
Mattie shrank from him, trembling and frightened.