“Think well over it, but decide quickly. There is no time to lose, if you would be saved. I must seek the fresh air—I am choking!”
Campbell watched her until her form disappeared, then his eyes drooped, and he tried to think connectedly over what he had heard both from father and from daughter.
It did not take him long to decide. Though he felt that he could never bring himself to love, or even respect as a friend, the child of the man who had boasted that his hands were stained with blood—and together with other, the blood of the young man’s father, he resolved to accept her terms in seeming, until he was free.
The thought of his mother’s peril brought him to this decision. He could not let her be murdered, when a simple falsehood would save her.
He had scarcely arrived at this determination when Lola hastily entered, her countenance flushed, her eyes glowing.
“Quick! your answer—my father is coming!” she hurriedly uttered, reaching his side.
“I consent—provided you assist me in freeing Fred, also.”
“I will—you shall never regret your choice, if my love can repay you. But now—there’s his step. Pretend to sleep, as he may suspect something,” she hastily added, as with burning lips she gently touched his forehead.
Though strongly agitated, Campbell managed to quiet his nerves in seeming, and as Mestayer entered, his suspicious glance saw only a sleeping captive and a drowsy sentinel, her head bowed upon her breast. It was evident that he had met or seen something that greatly excited him, and pleasingly, too, for a triumphant glow irradiated his face, and his dark eyes sparkled with strange brilliancy.
“Lola, you may go now and lie down. You must be sleepy.”