"Where is Rolfe?" I asked at last.
"He would have stayed," she answered, "but I made him go. I
wished to be alone." She rose, and going to the window leaned her
forehead against the bars, and looked out upon the wild sky and
the hurrying river. "I would I were alone," she said in a low voice
and with a catch of her breath. As she stood there in the twilight by
the window, I knew that she was weeping, though her pride strove
to keep that knowledge from me. My heart ached for her, and I
knew not how to comfort her. At last she turned. A pasty and stoup
of wine were upon the table.
"You are tired and shaken," I said, "and you may need all your
strength. Come, eat and drink."
"For to-morrow we die," she added, and broke into tremulous
laughter. Her lashes were still wet, but her pride and daring had
returned. She drank the wine I poured for her, and we spoke of
indifferent things, - of the game that afternoon, of the Indian
Nantauquas, of the wild night that clouds and wind portended.
Supper over, I called Angela to bear her company, and I myself
went out into the night, and down the street toward the guest
house.
CHAPTER XVIII IN WHICH WE GO OUT INTO THE NIGHT
THE guest house was aflame with lights. As I neared it, there was
borne to my ears a burst of drunken shouts accompanied by a
volley of musketry.
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