“Where are you?” she asked, with a smile.

Something in her movement struck him.  He came towards her, and bending down looked into her face.

“Teresa!  Good God!—­look at me!  What has happened?”

She raised her eyes to his.  There was a slight film across them; the lids were blackened; the beautiful lashes gone forever!

“I see you a little now, I think,” she said, with a smile, passing her hands vaguely over his face.  “It must have happened when he fainted, and I had to drag him through the blazing brush; both my hands were full, and I could not cover my eyes.”

“Drag whom?” said Low, quickly.

“Why, Dunn.”

“Dunn!  He here?” said Low, hoarsely.

“Yes; didn’t you read the note I left on the herbarium?  Didn’t you come to the camp-fire?” she asked hurriedly, clasping his hands.  “Tell me quickly!”

“No!”

“Then you were not there—­then you didn’t leave me to die?”

“No!  I swear it, Teresa!” the stoicism that had upheld his own agony breaking down before her strong emotion.

“Thank God!” She threw her arms around him, and hid her aching eyes in his troubled breast.

“Tell me all, Teresa,” he whispered in her listening ear.  “Don’t move; stay there, and tell me all.”

With her face buried in his bosom, as if speaking to his heart alone, she told him part, but not all.  With her eyes filled with tears, but a smile on her lips, radiant with new-found happiness, she told him how she had overheard the plans of Dunn and Brace, how she had stolen their conveyance to warn him in time.  But here she stopped, dreading to say a word that would shatter the hope she was building upon his sudden revulsion of feeling for Nellie.  She could not bring herself to repeat their interview—­that would come later, when they were safe and out of danger; now not even the secret of his birth must come between them with its distraction, to mar their perfect communion.  She faltered that Dunn had fainted from weakness, and that she had dragged him out of danger.  “He will never interfere with us—­I mean,” she said softly, “with me again.  I can promise you that as well as if he had sworn it.”

“Let him pass now,” said Low; “that will come later on,” he added, unconsciously repeating her thought in a tone that made her heart sick.  “But tell me, Teresa, why did you go to Excelsior?”

She buried her head still deeper, as if to hide it.  He felt her broken heart beat against his own; he was conscious of a depth of feeling her rival had never awakened in him.  The possibility of Teresa loving him had never occurred to his simple nature.  He bent his head and kissed her.  She was frightened, and unloosed her clinging arms; but he retained her hand, and said, “We will leave this accursed place, and you shall go with me as you said you would; nor need you ever leave me, unless you wish it.”