She clung the closer to him, and leaned her panting breast on him, and lifted her face to his. “Lassiter, _I do love you!_ It’s leaped out of my agony. It comes suddenly with a terrible blow of truth. You are a man! I never knew it till now. Some wonderful change came to me when you buckled on these guns and showed that gray, awful face. I loved you then. All my life I’ve loved, but never as now. No woman can love like a broken woman. If it were not for one thing—just one thing—and yet! I _can’t_ speak it—I’d glory in your manhood—the lion in you that means to slay for me. Believe me—and spare Dyer. Be merciful—great as it’s in you to be great.... Oh, listen and believe—I have nothing, but I’m a woman—a beautiful woman, Lassiter—a passionate, loving woman—and I love you! Take me—hide me in some wild place—and love me and mend my broken heart. Spare him and take me away.” She lifted her face closer and closer to his, until their lips nearly touched, and she hung upon his neck, and with strength almost spent pressed and still pressed her palpitating body to his. “Kiss me!” she whispered, blindly. “No—not at your price!” he answered. His voice had changed or she had lost clearness of hearing. “Kiss me!... Are you a man? Kiss me and save me!” “Jane, you never played fair with me. But now you’re blisterin’ your lips—blackenin’ your soul with lies!” “By the memory of my mother—by my Bible—no! No, I _have_ no Bible! But by my hope of heaven I swear I love you!” Lassiter’s gray lips formed soundless words that meant even her love could not avail to bend his will. As if the hold of her arms was that of a child’s he loosened it and stepped away. “Wait! Don’t go! Oh, hear a last word!... May a more just and merciful God than the God I was taught to worship judge me—forgive me—save me! For I can no longer keep silent!... Lassiter, in pleading for Dyer I’ve been pleading more for my father. My father was a Mormon master, close to the leaders of the church. It was my father who sent Dyer out to proselyte. It was my father who had the blue-ice eye and the beard of gold. It was my father you got trace of in the past years. Truly, Dyer ruined Milly Erne—dragged her from her home—to Utah—to Cottonwoods. _But it was for my father!_ If Milly Erne was ever wife of a Mormon that Mormon was my father! I never knew—never will know whether or not she was a wife. Blind I may be, Lassiter—fanatically faithful to a false religion I may have been but I know justice, and my father is beyond human justice. Surely he is meeting just punishment—somewhere. Always it has appalled me—the thought of your killing Dyer for my father’s sins. So I have prayed!”