Then what seemed a long interval ensued. The house grew silent once more. Duane could not see Miss Longstreth, but he heard her quick breathing. How long did she mean to let him stay hidden there? Hard and perilous as his life had been, this was a new kind of adventure. He had divined the strange softness of his feeling as something due to the magnetism of this beautiful woman. It hardly seemed possible that he, who had been outside the pale for so many years, could have fallen in love. Yet that must be the secret of his agitation.
Presently he pushed open the closet door and stepped forth. Miss Longstreth had her head lowered upon her arms and appeared to be in distress. At his touch she raised a quivering face.
“I think I can go now—safely,” he whispered.
“Go then, if you must, but you may stay till you're safe,” she replied.
“I—I couldn't thank you enough. It's been hard on me—this finding out—and you his daughter. I feel strange. I don't understand myself well. But I want you to know—if I were not an outlaw—a ranger—I'd lay my life at your feet.”
“Oh! You have seen so—so little of me,” she faltered.
“All the same it's true. And that makes me feel more the trouble my coming caused you.”
“You will not fight my father?”
“Not if I can help it. I'm trying to get out of his way.'
“But you spied upon him.”