"You—you—are"—she arose and stood beside Farwell, her hand upon his bent shoulder—"you are crying; and for why?"
"Loneliness, remorse, and fear for you, poor child."
And then Priscilla came back to the grim room and the cowering form.
"I will bring happiness to you," she whispered; "this I swear. In some way you shall be happy."
But Farwell shook his head.
"To bed," he said suddenly; "to bed, girl, and to sleep. I'll take a nap out here on the couch. Before you awake I'll be on my way. Keep the shades drawn; it's my way of saying I do not wish to be disturbed. Good night, and God bless you, Priscilla."
CHAPTER XII
About two in the morning Farwell set out upon his business for Priscilla. He left a safe and roaring fire upon the hearth; the window shades he did not raise, and well he knew that with that signal of desire for privacy his house would be passed by without apparent notice. The smoke might curl from the chimney, the dogs might, or might not, materialize, but with those close-drawn shades the simple courtesy of Kenmore would protect the master.
Priscilla was sleeping when Farwell silently closed the door after him, and, followed by his dogs, provided with food and blankets, he noiselessly took to the shadowy woods. It was a starry, still hour, lying between night and morning, and it partook of both. Dark it was, but with that silvery luminosity which a couple of hours later would be changed to pink glow. The stars shone, and the one great, pulsing planet that hung over the sleeping village seemed more gloriously near than Farwell had ever before noticed it. All nature was waiting for the magic touch of day; soon action and colour and sound would stir; just then the hush and breathlessness were a strange setting for the lonely man moving forward into the deeper shadows followed close by his faithful dogs. This man who, in the mad passion of his blighted youth, had taken life as if it were but one of the many things over which he claimed supremacy, with bowed head and slow steps, was going on an errand of mercy; he was going to claim, for a helpless human creature, assistance from the only man in all God's world upon whom he could call with hope of success.