“No, no, don’t think that of me.”
“Well, what were you going to do?”
“I hardly knew.”
“You better find out.”
“I know it—I did find out, to-day. I know, and it will be all right. Trust me. I lost my faith for a moment just now when I heard Brother Brigham was coming to-morrow; but I see how it is,—the Lord has wished to prove me. Now there is all the more reason why I should not flinch. You will see that I shall make it all right to-morrow.”
“Well, the time’s about up. I’ve been here over two months now, just because you were so kind of helpless. And one of our wagon-trains will be along here about next Monday. Say, she wouldn’t ever have married him, would she?”
“No, she refused at once; she refused to consider it at all.”
He was burning again with his fever, and there was something in his eagerness that seemed to overcome Follett’s indignation.
“Well, let it go till to-morrow, then. And you try to get some rest now. That’s what I’m going to do.”
But the little bent man, flushed though he was, felt cold from the night air, and, piling more logs on the fire, he drew his chair close in front of it.