not blind himself to them. And sometimes
when he sat alone by his dying fire, as the dark menaced him, and the
girl that was his charge slept within the portals of stone, he had the
unescapable feeling that the very structure of his life was falling and
shattering down; but even now he could see, an enchanted vista in the
distance, a mightier, more glorious tower, builded and shaped by this
woman's hand.

XXXI

While Beatrice was at her household tasks--cooking the meals, cleaning
the cave, washing and repairing their clothes--Ben never forgot his more
serious work. Certain hours every day he spent in exploration, seeking
out the passes over the hills, examining every possible means of
entrance and egress into his valley, getting the lay of the land and
picking out the points from which he would make his attack. Already he
knew every winding game trail and every detail of the landscape for five
miles or more around. His ultimate vengeance seemed just as sure as the
night following the day.

Ever he listened for the first sound of the pack train in the forest;
and even in his hours of pleasure his eyes ever roamed over the sweep of
valley and marsh below. He was prepared for his enemies now. One or
five, they couldn't escape him. He had provided for every contingency
and had seemingly perfected his plan to the last detail.

He had not the slightest fear that his eagerness would cost him his aim
when finally his eye looked along the sights at the forms of his
enemies, helpless in the marsh. He was wholly cold about the matter now.
The lust and turmoil in his veins, remembered like a ghastly dream from
that first night, returned but feebly now, if at all. This change, this
restraint had been increasingly manifest since his occupation of the
cave, and it had marked, at the same time, a growing barrier between
himself and Fenris. But he could not deny but that such a development
was wholly to have been expected. Fenris was a child of the open forest
aisles, never of the fireside and the hearth. It was not that the wolf
had ceased to give him his dint of faithful service, or that he loved
him any the less. But each of them had other interests,--one his home
and hearth; the other the ever-haunting, enticing call of the wildwood.
Lately Fenris had taken to wandering into the forest at night, going and
coming like a ghost; and once his throat and jowls had been stained with
dark blood.

"It's getting too tame for you