"
She shuddered as she heard the inner voice. She felt that this Other Self
of her, the inner-seeing soul which had the secret of the far paths, had
spoken truly. Even as she begged her father to withdraw the sentence, it
flashed into her mind that the grim Thing of the night was the dark
spirit of hatred between Jethro Fawe and the Master Gorgio seeking
embodiment, as though Jethro's evil soul detached itself from his body to
persecute her.
At her appeal, Jethro raised his head. His courage came back, the old
insolent self-possession took hold of him again. The sentence which the
Ry had passed was worse than death (and it meant death, too), for it made
him an outcast from his people, and to be outcast was to be thrown into
the abyss. It was as though a man without race or country was banished
into desolate space. In a vague way he felt its full significance, and
the shadow of it fell on him.
"No, no, no," Fleda repeated hoarsely, with that new sense of
responsibility where Jethro was concerned.
Jethro's eyes were turned upon her now. In the starlit night, just
yielding to the dawn, she could faintly see his burning look, could feel,
as it were, his hands reach out to claim her; and she felt that while he
lived she was not wholly free.
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