He tried to expostulate, to push her off, as he felt her lips against his naked arm. But she clung there sucking out the virus. He felt her tears fall on his arm. He heard her murmur: "My dying lion--my dying lion!" He bent and whispered: "You are risking your own life for me, Helen! Life for life--death for death!" It was too much even for his great strength, and when he recovered himself he was sitting on the sand of the little cave. How long she had clung to his arm he did not know, but it had ceased to pain him and her own handkerchief was tied around it. He staggered out, a terrible pallor on his face, as he said: "Not this way--not to go this way. Oh, God, your blow--I care not for death, but, oh, not this death?" "Clay," he said after a while--"Take her--take her to your mother and sister to-night. I must bid you both good-night, ay, and good-bye. See, you walk only across the field there--that is Westmoreland." He turned, but he felt some one clinging to his hand, in the dark. He looked down at her, at the white, drawn face, beautiful with a terrible pain: "Take me--take me," she begged--"with you--to the end of the world--oh, I love you and I care not who knows." "Child--child"--he whispered sadly--"You know not what you say. I am dying. I shall be mad--unless--unless what you have done--" "Take me," she pleaded--"my lion. I am yours." He stooped and kissed her and then walked quickly away. CHAPTER XX THE ANGEL WITH THE FLAMING SWORD It was nearly time for the mill to close when Mammy Maria, her big honest face beaming with satisfaction at the surprise she had in store for Helen, began to wind her red silk bandana around her head. She had several bandanas, but when Lily saw her put on the red silk one, the little girl knew she was going out--"dressin' fur prom'nade"--as the old lady termed it. "You are going after Helen," said the little girl, clapping her hands. She sat on her father's lap: "And we want you to hurry up, Mammy Maria," he said, "I want all my family here. I am going to work to-morrow. I'll redeem Millwood before my two years expire or I am not a Conway again." Mammy Maria was agitated enough. She had been so busy that she had failed to notice how late it was. In her efforts to surprise Helen she had forgotten time, and now she feared the mill might close and Helen, not knowing they had moved, would go back to Millwood. This meant a two mile tramp and delay. She had plenty of time, she knew, before the mill closed; but the more she thought of the morning's scene at the mill and of Jud Carpenter, the greater her misgivings. For Mammy Maria was instinctive--a trait her people have. It is always Nature's substitute when much intellect is wanting.