Alluna uttered a short, satisfied exclamation, and, looking at Gale meaningly, said:
"It is good. It is good. He is a stranger."
But the man disregarded her interruption.
"He asked you to marry him in—in—in spite of who you are and what I am?"
"Yes; he is ready to give up his ambition, his army, his future, his family, everything, for me—to sacrifice it all; and so, of course, I couldn't let him." She spoke simply, as if her father would surely understand and approve her action, while in her voice was a note of inevitable resignation. "You see, I never understood what my blood would mean to him until to-night. I've been selfish and thoughtless, I guess. I just wanted him, and wanted him to take me; but now that he is mine, I love him more than I thought. He is so dear to me that I can't drag him down—I can't—I can't!" She went to the open door and stood leaning against the casing, facing the cool outer darkness, her face hidden from them, her form sagging wearily, as if the struggle had sapped her whole strength.
Alluna crept to the trader and looked up at him eagerly, whispering:
"This will end in a little while, John. She is young. She can go back to the Mission to-morrow. She will soon forget."
"Forget! Do you think she can forget?"
"Any woman can forget. Only men remember."
"It is the red blood in you—lying. You know you lie."