For the first time the girl became vaguely conscious
of, the possibility of an affection, a tie superseding
all others; she began to see how it was possible to
give herself to this man, not from an impulse of gratitude
or because she liked him better than any one else,
but because of a feeling, new, mysterious, which gave
him a sort of divine right in her. Something in
the expression of his eyes had been more potent than
his words; something subtle, swift as an electric
spark had passed from him to her, awakening a faint,
strange tumult in the heart she thought so utterly
crushed. A few moments before, she could have
promised resolutely to be his wife; she could have
permitted his embrace with unresponsive apathy.
Now she felt a sudden shyness. A faint color
stole into her pale face, and she longed to be alone.
“Ralph,” she faltered, “you are
so generous, I—I don’t know what
to say.”
“You needn’t say anything till I come
back. If possible, I will be here by Christmas,
for you shouldn’t be alone that day with your
grief. Good-by.”
The hand she gave him trembled, and her face was averted
now.
“You will try to love me a little, won’t
you?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
A VISITOR AT THE MINE
Ralph Brandt was admirably fitted for the task he
had undertaken. With fearlessness he united imperturbable
coolness and unwearied patience in pursuit of an object.
Few knew him in his character of detective, and no
one would have singled him out as an expert in his
calling. The more difficult and dangerous the
work, the more careless and indifferent his manner,
giving the impression to superficial observers of
being the very last person to be intrusted with responsible
duty. But his chief and others on the force well
knew that beneath Brandt’s careless demeanor
was concealed the relentless pertinacity of a bloodhound
on track of its victim. With the trait of dogged
pursuit all resemblance to the bloodthirsty animal
ceased, and even the worst of criminals found him
kind-hearted and good-natured after they were
within his power. Failure was an idea not to
be entertained. If the man to be caught existed,
he could certainly be found, was the principle on
which our officer acted.
He readily obtained permission to attempt the capture
of the escaped prisoner, Bute; but the murderer had
disappeared, leaving no clew. Brandt learned
that the slums of large cities and several mining
camps had been searched in vain, also that the trains
running east had been carefully watched. We need
not try to follow his processes of thought, nor seek
to learn how he soon came to the conclusion that his
man was at some distant mining station working under
an assumed name. By a kind of instinct his mind
kept reverting to one of these stations with increasing
frequency. It was not so remote in respect to
