ed the room in time to see her cousin bend to kiss me
gratefully with sisterly fervor. Yet it was a woman's kiss, given for
its own sake. Sally could not comprehend; it was too sudden, too
unheard-of, that Diane Sampson should kiss me, the man she did not love.
Sally's white, sad face changed, and in the flaming wave of scarlet that
dyed neck and cheek and brow I read with mighty pound of heart that,
despite the dark stain between us, she loved me still.

Chapter 15

CONVALESCENCE

Four mornings later we were aboard the stage, riding down the main
street, on the way out of Linrock. The whole town turned out to bid us
farewell. The cheering, the clamor, the almost passionate fervor of the
populace irritated me, and I could not see the incident from their point
of view. Never in my life had I been so eager to get out of a place. But
then I was morbid, and the whole world hinged on one thing. Morton
insisted on giving us an escort as far as Del Rio. It consisted of six
cowboys, mounted, with light packs, and they rode ahead of the stage.

We had the huge vehicle to ourselves. A comfortable bed had been rigged
up for me by placing boards across from seat to seat, and furnishing it
with blankets and pillows. By some squeezing there was still room enough
inside for my three companions; but Steele expressed an intention of
riding mostly outside, and Miss Sampson's expression betrayed her. I was
to be alone with Sally. The prospect thrilled while it saddened me. How
different this ride from that first one, with all its promise of
adventure and charm!

"It's over!" said Steele thickly. "It's done! I'm glad, for their
sakes--glad for ours. We're out of town."

I had been quick to miss the shouts and cheers. And I had been just as
quick to see, or to imagine, a subtle change in Sally Langdon's face. We
had not traveled a mile before the tension relaxed about her lips, the
downcast eyelids lifted, and I saw, beyond any peradventure of doubt, a
lighter spirit. Then I relaxed myself, for I had keyed up every nerve to
make myself strong for this undertaking. I lay back with closed eyes,
weary, aching, in more pain than I wanted them to discover. And I
thought and thought.

Miss Sampson had said to me: "Russ, it'll all come right. I can tell you
now what you never guessed. For years Sally had been fond of our cousin,
George Wright. She hadn't seen him since she was a child. But she
remembered. She had an only brother wh