“Her life, Kells, only that, I swear,” cried Cleve.
“Kells, listen,” began Joan, pleadingly. “You will not let that—that CANNIBAL have me?”
“No, by God!” replied Kells, thickly. “I was drunk—crazy.... Forgive me, girl! You see—how did I know—what was coming?... Oh, the whole thing is hellish!”
“You loved me once,” whispered Joan, softly. “Do you love me still?... Kells, can't you see? It's not too late to save my life—and YOUR soul!... Can't you see? You have been bad. But if you save me now—from Gulden—save me for this boy I've almost ruined—you—you.... God will forgive you!... Take us away—go with us—and never come back to the border.”
“Maybe I can save you,” he muttered, as if to himself. He appeared to want to think, but to be bothered by the clinging arms around him. Joan felt a ripple go over his body and he seemed to heighten, and the touch of his hands thrilled.
Then, white and appealing, Cleve added his importunity.
“Kells, I saved your life once. You said you'd remember it some day. Now—now!... For God's sake don't make me shoot her!”
Joan rose from her knees, but she still clasped Kells. She seemed to feel the mounting of his spirit, to understand how in this moment he was rising out of the depths. How strangely glad she was for him!
“Joan, once you showed me what the love of a good woman really was. I've never seen the same since then. I've grown better in one way—worse in all others.... I let down. I was no man for the border. Always that haunted me. Believe me, won't you—despite all?”
Joan felt the yearning in him for what he dared not ask. She read his mind. She knew he meant, somehow, to atone for his wrong.