She surrendered to the determination in his voice and they moved slowly along the path, listening for any sound that might come from ahead of them.  Nathaniel had already formed his plan of action.  From Marion’s words and the voice in which she had uttered them he knew that it would be useless for him as it had been for Neil to urge her to flee from the island.  There remained but one thing for him to do, so he fell back upon the scheme which he had proposed to Marion’s brother.  He realized now that he might be compelled to play the game single-handed unless he could secure assistance from Obadiah.  His ship and men were in the hands of the Mormons; Neil, in his search for the captured vessel, stood a large chance, of missing him that night, and in that event Marion’s fate would depend on him alone.  If he could locate a small boat on the beach back of Obadiah’s; if he could in some way lure Marion to it—­He gave an involuntary shudder at the thought of using force upon the girl at his side, at the thought of her terror of those first few moments, her struggles, her broken confidence.  She believed in him now.  She believed that he loved her.  She trusted him.  The warm soft pressure of her hand as it clung to his arm in the blackening gloom of the forest was evidence of that trust.  She looked into his face anxiously, inquiringly when they stopped to listen, like a child who was sure of a stronger spirit at her side.  She held her breath when he held his, she listened when he listened, her feet fell with velvet stillness when he stepped with caution.  Her confidence in him was like a beautiful dream to Nathaniel and he trembled when he pictured the destruction of it.  After a little he reached over and as if by accident touched the hand that was lying on his arm; he dared more after a moment, and drew the warm little fingers into his great strong palm and held them there, his soul thrilled by their gentle submissiveness.  And then in another breath there came to still his joy a thought of the terrible power that chained this girl to the Mormon king.  He longed to speak words of encouragement to her, to instil hope in her bosom, to ask her to confide in him the secret of the shadow which hung over her, but the memory of what Neil had said to him held his lips closed.

They had walked in silence for many minutes when the girl stopped.

“It is not very far now,” she whispered.  “You must go!”

“Only a little farther,” he begged.

She surrendered again, hesitatingly, and they went on, more slowly than before, until they came to where the path met the footway that led to Obadiah’s.

“Now—­now you must go,” whispered Marion again.

In this last moment Nathaniel crushed her hand against his breast, his body throbbing with a wild tumult, and a half of what he had meant not to say fell passionately from his lips.