A Man: His Mark. A Romance: Second EditionMorrow, W. C.
General
A Man: His Mark. A Romance: Second Edition
Morrow, W. C.
Accident victims -- Fiction; American fiction; California -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Mountain life -- Fiction
She was so deeply absorbed in watching him and so expectant of erratic
conduct from him that she gave no thought to the possibility of danger
from an external source. For dreary months she had waited in this small
prison, and no longer gave heed to any tumult without. The young man had
been lounging in hopeless langour, but now he sat upright, every nerve,
muscle, and faculty under extraordinary tension.
“It is coming!” he cried. “I have been expecting it every day.
Come--quick, for God’s sake!”
Saying that, he seized her by the arm, and with furious eagerness and
surprising strength dragged her to the rear door, giving her little time
to seize her crutch. He unlocked the door and threw it open, but before
he could open the door at the further end of the passage she heard a
heavy roar and felt the great mountain tremble. Wholly ignorant of the
meaning of it all, but seeing that her host was moved by an intelligent
purpose, and feeling profound confidence and comfort in the protection
that he was throwing about her, she placed herself completely under his
guidance.
The rear door was opened, and they entered a dark, cold chamber. With
every moment the roaring increased and the trembling of the mountain was
augmented. Then came a tremendous, stupefying crash, and the cataclysm
gradually died away in silence, leaving an impenetrable, oppressive
blackness.
The two prisoners stood in breathless silence, held tightly in each
other’s arms. The young woman asked no questions; her sense of security
and comfort in this man’s arms filled the whole want of her hour.
She felt vaguely that something more dreadful than all their past
misfortunes had befallen them; but that feeling brought no chill to the
strong warm blood that swept rhythmically through her heart. She was at
peace with her fate. If this was death, it was death for them both, it
was death with him.
Her keen sympathy made her intensely attentive to every sign that he
gave; and thus it was that she accepted, without surprise or dismay, the
realization that he was not rallying, and that, on the contrary, he was
sinking under the nameless blow that had fallen upon them. It was not
anxiety for that, but for him, that now gave her every conscious quality
a redoubled alertness. His grasp upon her tightened, and by this she
knew that he felt the need of her, and was clinging to her. He trembled
in every member, and swayed as he stood. With little effort she bore
him to the ground, where, kneeling beside him and holding his hands, she
softly spoke,--
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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