For an instant the sweet smile faded, but it was for the loss of her mountains; not her doubt of her husband which drove it away.
"Yes," she murmured.
Then Sandy found his way back from his place of torment and he strode to the two in the middle of the room. He laid his hand upon Treadwell's shoulder, and all the smouldering passion in his heart rang in his words.
"Lansing Treadwell, swear to me, that you will leave her soul to her own keeping until——"
Treadwell gave him a long, steady look.
"I swear!" he said.
"When—her hour comes to—understand and choose—let her be white and pure as she is now!"
"I swear it, Sandy Morley."
"Then," and now Sandy's eyes dimmed, "good-bye, little Cyn. You'll miss the mountains—but there are good, true hearts—down beyond The Way."
At this Marcia Lowe drew near: