I was thinking only of the
sea--to get away on the sea. A taxi took me to my bank, and I drew
money. I went to the wharves, intent only on boarding a ship, any ship,
and it seemed to me that Uncle Peter was leading me; and we came to a
great ship that was leaving for Alaska--and you know--what happened
then--Alan Holt."
With a sob she bowed her face in her hands, but only an instant it was
there, and when she looked at Alan again, there were no tears in her
eyes, but a soft glory of pride and exultation.
"I am clean of John Graham," she cried. "_Clean!_"
He stood twisting his hands, twisting them in a helpless, futile sort of
way, and it was he, and not the girl, who felt like bowing his head that
the tears might come unseen. For her eyes were bright and shining and
clear as stars.
"Do you despise me now?"
"I love you," he said again, and made no movement toward her.
"I am glad," she whispered, and she did not look at him, but at the
sunlit plain which lay beyond the window.
"And Rossland was on the _Nome_, and saw you, and sent word back to
Graham," he said, fighting to keep himself from going nearer to her.
She nodded. "Yes; and so I came to you, and failing there, I leaped into
the sea, for I wanted them to think I was dead."
"And Rossland was hurt."
"Yes.
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