Their place
was once more taken by the recollection of the life she had been forced
to endure for the sake of her first youthful passion. Her heart
hardened. No impulse had driven her to her present actions. They were
the result of a craving she was powerless to resist. Her husband must
go his way. He must act as he saw fit. For herself she would not
forego one tithe of the reward which she believed would help her to
that comfort in life for which her soul yearned.
With the passing of the Vigilantes she moved clear of the bush. She
would see this out. Home? She had no desire for her home. The night
had no terrors for her. Nothing had terror for her, except the failure
of these men.
She flung herself upon the ground and lay with wide eyes searching the
remoteness of the valley beyond. Her impatience had developed into
something almost feverish. She wanted a sign. She wanted assurance.
But the world seemed so still, so entirely peaceful.
The moments pursued for her a sluggish course. The jeweled sky was an
added regret.
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