“That caused people to believe you had committed suicide; more I cannot tell you, Kate.”
“But I can, sir; I was believed dead, dressed in my shroud, and buried, aye, placed in my grave, Kenton Kingsland, and left to my last sleep among the dead.
“But avaricious eyes had seen that my diamond rings were left on my fingers, and that night ghouls of the grave came to rob me. When they broke open the casket, the effects of the drug had worn off, the fresh air revived me, and I arose in my shroud and put to wild flight the base robbers of the dead. Can I forgive you that, Kenton Kingsland?”
“No, I do not ask it—yes, I do ask it, for you can forgive me if you love me as I do you; forgive, forget me, and I will go happy to my death.”
The man tried to stretch forth his bound hands, and half raised himself from the floor, while his voice was full of pleading, and his eyes bent on her with all the fascination he could throw into them.
She was a woman, and she had loved him with all her soul. She had suffered much, but she believed he had also. Her love had turned to hatred in a night; but now, in a minute, it flew back from hate to passionate idolatry, and she flung herself upon him, bound as he was, and cried:
“Kenton! Kenton! I do forgive you all, and I will forget all; only come back to me, and love me, as in that olden time when we were both so happy.”
A triumphant light flashed in his eyes; but he said sadly:
“This is beyond all hope, Kate; now I can die content.”
“Die! You shall not die, Kenton, for I will protect you; see, I sever your bonds, and—aye, we will fly together from here, for I have two fleet horses in the stable. Come, throw off those suits that disguise your form; pistols, rifles, and all I have here, so come with me, and woe be to him who would stand in our path.”