s home he had not
forsaken the idea that some day this fair young thing should be his.
Subsequently the idea had slumbered in his breast, but he had been only
waiting--waiting and plotting. Now she had come within reach of his
hand, alone, and he would have given his left hand to have grasped her
with his right. No one but his hirelings were near, and it was no
innate, dormant worth or goodness which stayed his hand. In part it was
the innocence and unconscious purity of the girl herself, which wrapped
her as in a garment and held an invisible but powerful shield before
her. This moral atmosphere which enveloped her was so evident that even
the dulled and warped sensibilities of Devil Marston, at their best but
unformed and sickly fungi, recognized it, and trembled before it. Yet
the lash which was driving him would in time have made him dash aside
this shield, in all probability, had there not been another powerful,
though absent factor. The face and form of John Glenning kept constantly
recurring. Should he dare touch this girl's dress, to say nothing of
forcing his beast's lips on hers, he knew that his life would pay the
forfeit. He knew that John Glenning would certainly kill him. So he was
torn horribly by different emotions, as he stood and wrestled silently.
At length he spoke; the voice of a beast made articulate. It was
croaking and harsh; the blending of a bellow and a growl.

"So--you--need money, do you?"

The words in themselves was an insult, independent of the wagging of his
bull-like head, which slowly moved in mockery.

The terrible trial was telling upon Julia. Her great eyes were strained,
and lines of distress were forming at the corners of her mouth. She
shifted the reins to her left hand and thrust her right under the loose
folds of a light wrap which she carried. When her fingers closed upon
the handle of the revolver, new courage came. She would go on, though
something told her that her quest was hopeless.

"Yes, we need money, but we don't want any that isn't rightfully ours. I
have read in the _Herald_ all about the affair at the bank, and how the
dividend was passed that you might make improvements and buy a new
safe. Can't you do these things, and declare the dividend, too?"

"We _might_ do without these things altogether," he answered, darkly.

She grasped at the straw.

"Oh, please do! I felt that if I would come and ask you to give us what
was really ours, that you would. Won't you