But she quickly saw the stab of pain that her wild questioning had given him. She crushed back a great, choking sob, and fought bravely with herself until she was able to force into her eyes a look of understanding and great mothering tenderness.
Her father saw the struggle and the look, and blessed her for it with his eyes. Then he said:
“You’ll never blame me, Ruth, girl, will you? I know I’m desertin’ you, little comrade, right in the mornin’ of your battle with life. But you won’t be afraid. I know you won’t.”
The girl shook her head bravely, but it was clear that she dared not trust herself to speak.
“I’m goin’ to ask this man here to look to you. He came here for a sign to me. I see it. I see it plain. I will trust him with your life. And so will you, little comrade. I––I’m droppin’ out. He’ll take you on.
“He saved my life once. So he gave you your life. It’s a sign, my Ruth.”
The girl slipped her hands gently under his head and looked deep and long into the glazing eyes.
Her heart quailed, for she knew that she was facing death––and life alone.
Obedient to her father’s look, she rose and walked across the room. She saw that he had something to say to this strange man and that the time was short.