“Miss Fuller, believe me, I am very sorry to hear that this worry has been hanging over you. If I had known, I should have proposed our remaining at Pickaxe Gulch until you had heard from your father. I fear my own conduct and conversation may have added to your discomfort.”
“Oh, no, no,” said the girl, quickly rising again.
“Will you accept this trifle from me?”
He spoke hurriedly, and took from his waistcoat pocket something that she knew to be a ring, for even in the dim light it sparkled as if fire were playing from its facets.
“I’d rather not,” she replied, stepping back.
“It will bind you to nothing—nothing at all. It is simply to keep me in your memory until we next meet.”
“Oh, I shall never forget you!” she cried, in a tone of bitterness that startled him.
“It is a mere trinket,” he urged, “and I bought it for you before I left civilisation. If you do not accept it, I shall throw it into the darkness of the valley yonder.”
“That would be foolish, even for you.”
“Why, Miss Fuller, such a remark has a very dubious sound. What do you mean by it? Do you think I am foolish?”