Her brain took in the details with incredible rapidity; and the girl was still coming toward her as she noted the dazzling brightness of the great silvery wolf-skin that was flung about her shoulders and caught together at her soft throat; the mass of black hair, upon which the mist-beads sparkled like a million diamonds; the dark, liquid eyes, and the even, white teeth that glistened between the curving red lips.
The girl was at her side now, and with a low cry threw herself upon her knees before the man, and stretched her arms toward him gropingly.
"M's'u' Bill!" she cried, and the voice was sweet and soft; the words uttered with imploring intensity. And then in Ethel's ears was the voice of her husband.
"Jeanne, Jeanne," he said; "why have you come? Speak, girl; why have you come to me?"
At the sound of the name, the thought that at the very altar this woman's name was upon the lips of her husband, the hot blood surged to her face and the tiny fists clenched. She was about to speak, but was forestalled by the half-breed girl who had leaped to her feet and thrown her arms about Bill's neck and was speaking in short, stabbing words:
"Come! Come now—with me! Oh, do not wait! Come—even now it may be too late!"
The low voice quivered with excitement, and the man's hand patted her shoulder soothingly as he endeavored to quiet her. Ethel took a quick step forward, and the hard tone of her voice cut upon the air like the ring of tempered steel.
"Who are you?" she cried. "Speak! What is this man to you?"
The Indian girl turned and faced her, seeming for the first time aware of her presence. The dark, liquid eyes flashed as she drew herself to her full height.
"To me, he is everything! I would die for him! I love him!"