“I had a fire. There was no danger. There is more danger for me in––” he cut his words short. “Shall we go on now? Or would you rather turn back?”
She drew herself up and released his hand; still she trembled. “I will be brave like you are brave. If you so desire, we go on.”
“You are really braver than I. Then we’ll go a few steps farther.” But the horse would not go on. He snorted and quivered and pulled back. Harry looked up at Amalia. She sat calmly waiting, but was very pale. Then he yielded to the horse, and, turning, led him back toward the cabin. She drew a long sigh of relief then, and glanced at him, and they both laughed.
“You see I am the coward, to only make believe I am not afraid. I am very afraid, and now more than always will I be afraid when that you go to hunt. ’Arry King, go no more alone.” Her voice was low and pleading. “There is much to do. I will teach you to speak the French, like you have once said you wish to learn. Then is the book to write. Is much to do that is very pleasant. But of those wild lions on the hills, they are not for a man to fight alone.” He restrained the horse, and walked slowly at her side, his hand on the pommel of the saddle, but did not speak. “You promise not? All night you stay in the cold, where is danger, and how may I know you will not again do such a thing? All is beautiful here, and great happiness may be if––if that you do no tragedy.” So sweetly did she plead he could no longer remain silent.
“There is only one happiness for me in life, Amalia, and that is forbidden me. I have expiation to make before I may ask happiness of heaven. You have been most patient with my silences––always––will you be patient still––and––understand?”
She drew in her breath sharply and turned her face away 294 from him, and for a moment was silent; then she spoke. Her voice was very low, and very sweet. “What is right, that must be. Always.”
Then they spoke again of Madam Manovska, and Amalia opened her heart to him as never before. It seemed as if she would turn his thoughts from whatever sorrow might be hanging over him, and impress him with the feeling that no matter what might be the cause of his reserve, or what wrong he might have done, her faith in him remained unshaken. It was a sweet return for his stammered confession.