He took her in his arms, wrapped his cape about her; she clung to him. He was deliriously happy; he held her in a frenzy of possession.
“Julie, my love! my love!”
The mist rose slowly, the red rays of the setting sun penetrated into the ravine, they were enveloped in flames. He could see her face now distinctly as she lay in his arms.
The mist vanished like magic, and—there—there!—he saw—no! no!—it couldn’t be!
Floyd’s voice rang out through the pass, struck the mountainside, and came back.
“Julie!!”
Martin held her with a fierce joy. He would stand now in the open for what he was. Julie was crying pitifully. He was very tender. He soothed her like a child.
“Hush! Hush! It is better; there will be no more lies.”
Floyd’s first impulse was to drag her from Martin’s arms, but he stood motionless listening to her sobs. Then she tore herself away, with an appealing cry. “Floyd! Forgive me! Forgive me!”
That set both the men on fire. Martin gave an angry growl.