She struggled from my encircling arms, then stood like a sweet flower, that the wind had tossed about. Yet never before had she looked so lovely to me.
“Have you no answer for me?” I asked.
She did not reply.
“Can you but love me a little?” I inquired softly, anxious now, indeed, as a man whose fate hung trembling in the balance. Then the answer came back, oh, so softly and sweetly:
“Yes.”
The darkness fell gently, until the ruddy fire shone out with casts of grim shadows over the room. I sat beside Lucille, and my heart was big with thoughts of love. The darkness was light to me now.
We talked of what the future might hold for us. Of how, when I had returned with honors, from the Canadian expedition, we would wed, and make our home in this new land. For a time we forgot the terrible tragedy that had brought us together, though it was like a little cloud in the otherwise bright sky.
The sweetness of her presence was all I thought of then, as I sat beside Lucille. I had never known before what it was to love truly. Many fair women had smiled at me and I had laughed in return, for I knew that it would end there. But now----
More and more dark it grew. Suddenly came a sound of galloping hoofs on the road without. Ere we had time to wonder who it might be, for few rode so furiously in that time, unless some danger portended, there was a knock loud and long at the door. Lucille and I had risen from our seats in alarm. The servant hastened to the portal with a candle, and we heard, as the oak swung back, the voice of a man:
“Is Captain Amherst within?” the messenger asked.