He's standing there in front of the window,
letting the wind of the night blow in his face!"
The wind from the window, indeed, struck against the door communicating
with Joe Cumberland's room, and shook it as if a hand were rattling at
the knob.
The girl began to speak again, as swiftly as before, her voice the
barely audible rushing of a whisper: "The law will trail him, but I
won't give him up. Dad, I'm going to fight once more to keep him
here--and if I fail, I'll follow him around the world." Such words
should have come loudly, ringing. Spoken so softly, they gave a terrible
effect; like the ravings of delirium, or the monotone of insanity. And
with the white light against her face she was more awe-inspiring than
beautiful. "He loved me once; and the fire must still be in him; such
fire _can't_ go out, and I'll fan it back to life, and then if it burns
me--if it burns us both--the fire itself cannot be more torture than to
live on like this!"
"Hush, lass!" murmured her father. "Listen to what's coming!"
It was a moan, very low pitched, and then rising slowly, and gaining in
volume, rising up the scale with a dizzy speed, till it burst and rang
through the house--the long-drawn wail of a wolf when it hunts on a
fresh trail.
CHAPTER XXXI
THE MESSAGE
Buck Daniels opened his eyes and sat bolt-upright in bed. He had dreamed
the dream again, and this time, as always, he awakened before the end.
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