"Then you are a——?" Martin could not form the word. A strange feeling swept upon him. He suddenly recalled the warning of his old bishop, especially his closing words, "The Church and her teaching will follow you to the grave, no matter to what part of the world you go."
"He's a parson as well as a doctor, that's what he is," Tom explained, noticing his host's hesitation.
Martin rose suddenly to his feet, picked up his hat, and silently left the building. Once outside he stood as if uncertain what course to pursue. Then he paced rapidly up and down before the house. His brain throbbed and beat with wild emotions. "And has it come to this?" he asked himself. "I have taken in a minion of the Church; I have allowed him to enter my cabin and break bread with me. Had I known who he was he should never have crossed the threshold. And he has won Nance's heart and supplanted me in her affections. And to think that I have kept her hidden away here all of these years, and this is the end! But no, by God, it shall not be! I will not lose her! I have fled from the Church, and it has followed me into the wilderness, and is about to wrench from my grasp the one who is dearer to me than life. It shall not be. No longer shall that man remain beneath my roof. He came here under the guise of a doctor. Why didn't he say plainly and frankly what he was? He seems to be ashamed of his profession."
Seldom had Martin ever allowed himself to be so angry with any one. He had always prided himself upon his calmness. But it was the thought of this stranger, and a clergyman at that, coming to the place and winning Nance's heart which stirred his inmost depths. He stood for a few moments looking out across the lake. The perspiration appeared in great beads upon his forehead. Presently he heard Dick's hearty laugh, and this annoyed him all the more. He would soon stop that. He took a step toward the door, but stopped as the sound of violin music fell upon his ears. It was Nance playing. Then some one began to sing. It was a clear, strong tenor voice, which he recognised as that of the young stranger.
Martin listened for a few moments and then, pushing open the door, he entered. No one noticed him as he moved quietly towards the fire. He paused in the middle of the room, strangely affected. It was not the music which caused him to hesitate and place his hand to his forehead in a perplexed manner. It was the expression of supreme happiness depicted upon Nance's face which held him spellbound. Her eyes were bright, and her cheeks were flushed with pleasure as she drew the bow skilfully across the strings.
Martin's anger cooled as he looked upon this peaceful scene. It was a striking and a rebuking contrast to the hell in his own heart, and he knew it. He moved quietly forward, took his seat to the left of the fire, and remained silently there for the rest of the evening. But long after the others were wrapped in slumber Martin sat before the dying embers, fighting the hardest of all battles—the battle of the heart.
CHAPTER XV
SUSPICION
Dick Russell rose early the next morning, much refreshed by his sleep. But Martin was up ahead of him, and had slipped out of the building before any one else was astir. Tom lighted the fire, and proved very handy in helping Nance with preparing the breakfast. In an hour's time the meal was over. It was a very frugal repast, but what was lacking in food was made up in pleasant conversation. Dick thought that Nance looked prettier than ever as she sat at the head of the table and poured the tea. The men naturally wondered what had become of Martin, but Nance informed them that he must have gone to the hills for mountain sheep. Their supply of fresh meat was getting low, and it was nothing unusual for her father to go off in the early morning hours.