“Floy hates the villain.”
“Yes, and he knows it. That makes him all the more dangerous, because he is determined on revenge for her scorn;” and the detective related the story of that night when he found Floy at Suicide Place.
“That man will bear watching,” he said.
“Then watch him for me, and if he harms one hair of my darling’s head, his life shall pay the forfeit!” cried the angry lover.
It hurt him bitterly that he was not strong enough yet to join Landon in the search for his darling; but still, he had every confidence in the detective’s ability, so he prepared to wait with what patience he could for tidings.
Meanwhile, his heart was filled with a great, glad joy at the news that she was living.
She was living, his beautiful darling, and she loved him still! He knew it in his heart that she loved him still. Such love as theirs could not change or falter from its allegiance.
Their hearts had met in a love that could not change or die.
It was only a little misunderstanding that had come between them—a little misunderstanding brought about by pride—that could easily be explained away once they met again.
“And I shall scold her just a little for doubting my faith,” he resolved, thinking that Floy’s belief in him should have been absolute even through absence and estrangement.