“How absurdly you talk!” he cried out, in dull, crushed admiration for such logic in one so young and frail. “But I assure you, Dora, I'll not listen to such silly stuff for a minute. You are going to be my wife. Do you hear me?--my wife! We will let the blamed railroad go. I'll tell General Sylvester in the morning that we are off for our honeymoon. Of course he'll drop me like a hot potato, but he may do it for all I care. You are more to me, darling, than he and all the trunk-lines in the world. Yes, I am coming for you to-morrow--to-morrow afternoon at three o'clock! Remember that--at three, sharp, and I'll--I'll bring a--a preacher and--everything necessary.” “You'll do nothing of the sort,” Dora said, firmly. “You think at this moment that you have the courage to do what you propose, but, Kenneth, you _haven't_--you simply haven't! I know you better than you know yourself. You will not come to-morrow _nor any other day!_ I'll never see you again, nor do I want to. I had a kind of love for you that only a woman could understand; you have had quite another sort for me. You think yours is still alive, but it died of paltry fear, stifled by avarice; mine was a girlish dream. I am awake now. Leave me, and don't approach me again. I swear to you that your secret is safe.” She moved away. He tried to stop her; but, with a warning finger on her lips, she eluded his grasp, and hurried into the house. CHAPTER XIII |BRAVE, very brave, and sweet and noble!” he said to himself, as he walked back toward the gate of his grounds; “but she certainly sha'n't have her way. I'm not low enough for that, thank God! She is the only creature I ever loved or could love, and she is mine by all the laws of heaven and earth. She looked like a young goddess as she stood there with that fire in her suffering face, and calmly consigned herself to disgrace and oblivion that my sordid schemes might prosper. I am not poor. I can make a living somehow, somewhere, if not in this sleepy old town; and with her always by my side, why--” Across the lawn he saw a light in a window of the Dearing house. It was in General Sylvester's room. The old gentleman retired earlier than this as a rule, and Galt told himself that his being up now was due to the almost child-like joy over the encouraging condition of their joint enterprise. He saw the old soldier's shadow as it flitted across the window, and knew that he was walking about, as was his habit under stress of excitement.