Then she saw Westcott, and her
whole expression changed. An instant their eyes met; then the revolver
fell to the floor unnoticed, and the girl sprang toward him, both hands
outstretched.
"You!" she cried, utterly giving way, forgetful of all else except the
sense of relief the recognition brought her. "You! Oh! Now I know it
is all right! I was so sure you would come."
He caught the extended hands eagerly, drawing her close, and looking
straight down into the depths of her uplifted eyes. To him, at that
moment, there was no one else in the room, no one else in the wide,
wide world.
"You knew I would come?" he echoed. "You believed that much in me?"
"Yes; I have never had a doubt. I told him so; that if we could only
hold out long enough we would be saved. But," her lips quivered, and
there were tears glistening in the uplifted eyes, "you came too late
for him."
"For him? The man who was with you, you mean? Has he been shot?"
She bent her head, the lips refusing to answer.
"Who was he?"
"Mr. Cavendish--oh!"
It was a cry of complete reaction; the room reeled about her and she
would have fallen headlong had not Westcott clasped the slender form
closely in his arms.
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