Forcibly, but with loving tenderness, she put him back among his pillows and seated herself by the bed. An awkward silence followed. For now that the man was in his right senses it was borne in upon her that he might remember that she had fed him, given him drink and fondled him. It was a situation embarrassing to both. Neither knew just what to say or how to begin. At length, the voice from the bed spoke:
“How long have I been here?”
“Three days.”
“And you have nursed me all that—”
“You mustn’t talk,” warned the girl. “It’s dangerous in more ways than one. But if you keep still no one’ll suspect that you’re here.”
“But I must know what happened,” he insisted with increasing excitement. “I remember nothing after I came down the ladder. The Sheriff—Rance—what’s become...?”
The Girl chided him with gentle authority.
“You keep perfectly still—you mustn’t say nothin’ ’til you’ve rested. Everythin’s all right an’ you needn’t worry a bit.” But then seeing that he chafed at this, she added: “Well, then, I’ll tell you all there is to know.” And then followed an account of the happenings of that night. It was not a thoroughly truthful tale, for in her narrative she told him only what she thought was necessary and good for him to know, keeping the rest to herself. And when she had related all that there was to tell she insisted upon his going to sleep again, giving him no opportunity whatsoever to speak, since she left his bedside after drawing the curtains.
Unwillingly the man lay back and tried to force himself to be patient; but he fretted at the enforced quietude and, as a result, sleep refused to come to him. From time to time he could hear the Girl moving noiselessly about the room. The knowledge that she was there gave him a sense of security, and he began to let his thoughts dwell upon her. No longer did he doubt but what she was a real influence now; and the thought had the effect of making him keenly alive to what his life had been. It was not a pleasant picture that he looked back upon, now that he had caught a glimpse of what life might mean with the Girl at his side. From the moment that he had taken her in his arms he realised to the full that his cherished dream had come true; he realised, also, that there was now but one answer to the question of keeping to the oath given to his father, and that was that gratitude—for he had guessed rightly, though she had not told him, that she had saved him from capture by the Sheriff and his posse—demanded that he should put an end to his vocation and devote his life henceforth to making her happy.
Once or twice while thus communing with himself he fancied that he heard voices. It seemed to him that he recognised Nick’s voice. But whoever it was, he spoke in whispers, and though the wounded man strove to hear, he was unsuccessful.