Ned’s eyes widened, as he tried to read his meaning. Doomsdorf laughed softly in the silence. “You won’t be here!” he repeated. “You fool—do you think I’d let you get in my way? It will rest as it is to-night. To-morrow morning you start out to tend your traps—and you will tend Bess’s lines as well as your own. She will stay here—with me—from now on.”
Ned felt his muscles hardening to steel. “I won’t leave her to you——”
“You won’t? Don’t make any mistake on that point. If you are not on your way by sun-up, you get a hundred—from the knout. You won’t be able to leave for some time after that—but neither will you be able to interfere with what doesn’t concern you. I’ll give you a few in the dawn—just as a sample to show what they’re like. Nor am I afraid of Bess killing herself. It’s cold and dark here, but it’s colder and darker—There. She’ll stand a lot before she’ll do that.”
“That’s definite?” Ned asked.
“The truest words I ever spoke. I’ve never gone back on a promise yet.”
“And believe me, I won’t go back on mine. If that’s all you have to say——”
“That’s quite all. Think it over—you’ll find it isn’t so bad. And now—good night.”
He bowed to them, in mock politeness. Then he turned back into his cabin.
For a moment his two prisoners stood inert, utterly motionless in the wan light. Ned started to turn to her, still held by his own dark thoughts, but at the first glance of her white, set face he whirled in the most breathless amazement. It was in no way the stricken, terrified countenance that he had seen a few moments before. The lips were firm, the eyes deep and strange; even in the half-light he could see her look of inexorable purpose.
Some great resolve had come to her,—some sweeping emotion that might even be akin to hope. Was she planning suicide? Was that the meaning of this new look of iron resolution in her face? He could conceive of no other explanation; in self-inflicted death alone lay deliverance from Doomsdorf’s lust. He dared not hope for any happier freedom.