Alton stood a moment irresolute, the veins on his forehead swollen and passion in his eyes. Then he stretched out his hand with a little laugh, and Miss Deringham knew that unless she used all her strength that tale would never be told. She rose up, and stood looking at him, very statuesque and cold now in the long trailing dress. Alton let his hand drop and bent his head.
"I am only a bushman, and I am sorry," he said. "Now you will sit down again."
It was evident that he had put a stern restraint upon himself, but the girl knew that he would listen.
"I have a confession to make," she said quietly. "You will remember the sale of Townshead's ranch, but you do not know I kept back the message Miss Townshead sent you."
Alton laughed a little. "Nothing would convince me of it. The man who should have brought it was not sober. He told me himself."
Alice Deringham had not anticipated this, and the man's unwavering faith in her was worse to bear than his anger would have been. "Still, the message was plain, and I remembered it," she said.
Alton made a little gesture of impatience. "No," he said resolutely, "you did not, and if you had done you would have had a reason that would have made it right."
The girl sat silent a few moments, her thoughts in confusion, almost angry with the man for his loyalty. "But there is more. You were going back into the ranges to relocate the mine—and I knew that it would cost you a great deal when I sent the note that stopped you."
The bronze faded suddenly in the man's face, and there was a dew upon his forehead, while the girl felt very faint and cold as she realized how he would feel the blow. Yet she could not spare either herself or him, and she struck while she had the courage left.
"I knew you would risk everything if I asked you to, and that was why I sent the note. I wanted to hurt you."