“Then he thought I had been deceiving him. He fell into a fury. He talked for a long time. He called upon God to visit my sins upon me. He tried to make me pray. But I wouldn't. And then I fought him. I'd have screamed for you had he not smothered me. I got weak.... And you never came. I know I thought you would come. But you didn't. Then I--I gave out. And after--some time--I must have fainted.” “Fay! For Heaven's sake, how could I come to you?” burst out Shefford, hoarse and white with remorse, passion, pain. “If I'm any man's wife I'm yours. It's a thing you FEEL, isn't it? I know that now.... But I want to know what to do?” “Fay!” he cried, huskily. “I'm sick of it all. If it weren't for you I'd climb the wall and throw myself off. That would be easy for me. I'd love to die that way. All my life I've been high up on the walls. To fall would be nothing!” “Oh, you mustn't talk like that!” “Do you love me?” she asked, with a low and deathless sweetness. “Love you? With all my heart! Nothing can change that!” “Do you want me--as you used to want the Fay Larkin lost in Surprise Valley? Do you love me that way? I understand things better than before, but still--not all. I AM Fay Larkin. I think I must have dreamed of you all my life. I was glad when you came here. I've been happy lately. I forgot--till last night. Maybe it needed that to make me see I've loved you all the time.... And I fought him like a wildcat!... Tell me the truth. I feel I'm yours. Is that true? If I'm not--I'll not live another hour. Something holds me up. I am the same.... Do you want me?” “Yes, Fay Larkin, I want you,” replied Shefford, steadily, with his grip on her arms. “Then take me away. I don't want to live here another hour.” “Fay, I'll take you. But it can't be done at once. We must plan. I need help. There are Lassiter and Jane to get out of Surprise Valley. Give me time, dear--give me time. It'll be a hard job. And we must plan so we can positively get away. Give me time, Fay.” “Suppose HE comes back?” she queried, with a singular depth of voice. “We'll have to risk that,” replied Shefford, miserably. “But--he won't come soon.” “He said he would,” she flashed. Shefford seemed to freeze inwardly with her words. Love had made her a woman and now the woman in her was speaking. She saw the truth as he could not see it. And the truth was nature. She had been hidden all her life from the world, from knowledge as he had it, yet when love betrayed her womanhood to her she acquired all its subtlety. “If I wait and he DOES come will you keep me from him?” she asked. “How can I? I'm staking all on the chance of his not coming soon. ... But, Fay, if he DOES come and I don't give up our secret--how on earth can I keep you from him?” demanded Shefford. “If you love me you will do it,” she said, as simply as if she were fate. “But how?” cried Shefford, almost beside himself.