He crept on; and now the shadowy outline of the house itself shut him off from the ranch. He cleared the danger zone of the rancher’s bedroom and reached the kitchen, where he met with a first disappointment. He was relieved and delighted to find that a light was still burning there; but his joy was dashed almost immediately by finding that the linen blind was down, and not a crack showed by which he could get a view of the room. He dared not go to the door until he had ascertained who was within, so he stood for a moment uncertain what to do. Then he suddenly remembered that the kitchen had another window on the far side of the lean-to. It would mean passing out into the open again; still, the darkness was such that the risk was reduced to a minimum.
With no further hesitation he hurried round. His only care now was to tread quietly, and even this seemed unnecessary, for the blind man’s room was at the other side of the house, and, if his suspicions were correct, Jake was busy at his nocturnal trade. Fortune favored him. The blind was down, but the lower sash of the window was raised, and he saw that, by pulling the linen on one side, he could obtain a full view of the room.
He was about to carry out his purpose. His hand was raised and reaching toward the window, when the sound of weeping came to him and checked his action. He stood listening for a second. Then, with a stifled ejaculation, he thrust his hand out further, and caught the edge of the blind.
He paused for nothing now. He had no scruples. He knew without inquiry who it was that was weeping within; who else but Diane could it be? And at the sound of each choking sob, his heart was wrung, and he longed to clasp her in his arms and comfort her. This love of his which had taken its place so suddenly in his life thrilled through his body like a fiery torrent roused to fever heat by the sound of the girl’s sobs.
Drawing the edge of the blind sharply on one side, he peered into the room. His worst fears were realized. Diane was at the far side of the kitchen sitting over the square cook-stove, rocking herself to and fro in an access of misery, and, in what seemed to him, an attitude of physical suffering. Her pretty head was bowed low upon her hands, and her whole frame was shaken by the sobs she was struggling hard to, but could not, suppress.
He took all this in at a glance, then his eyes rested upon her arms. The sleeves of her dress had been unfastened, and were thrown back from her wrists, leaving them bare to the elbow. And he saw, to his horror and indignation, that the soft, rounded flesh of her forearm was swollen and bruised. The sight made him clench his teeth, and his blue eyes suddenly hardened. He no longer permitted caution to govern his actions.
“Hist, Diane!” he whispered hoarsely. And he shook the stiff blind to further draw her attention. “It is I, Tresler,” he went on urgently.
And the girl sprang from her seat instantly and faced the window. She dashed her hand across her eyes and hastily sought to readjust her sleeves. But the pitiful attempt to thus hide her trouble only made the signs more marked. The tears still flowed, in spite of her bravest manner, and no effort of hers was able to keep the sweet lips from quivering.
She took one step in the direction of the window, but drew up with such a violent start and expression of alarm in her tearful eyes, that Tresler peered all round the room for the cause. He saw nothing more startling than a slumbering cat and the fragments of a broken lamp upon the floor, and his eyes went back to her again. Then, as he marked her attitude of attention, he understood. She was listening for the familiar but ominous “tap, tap” of her father’s stick. He too listened. Then, as no sound came to his straining ears, he spoke again.