While she watched the green lights play in the evil eyes above her, she
gathered all the strength of her young life into one effort, and schooled
herself to be calm. She controlled her involuntary shrinking from the man,
only drew herself back gently, as a woman with wider experience and
gentler breeding might have done.
"Remember," she said, "that my brother just lay there dead!" and she
pointed to the empty centre of the room. The dramatic attitude was almost
a condemnation to the guilty man before her. He drew back as if the
sheriff had entered the room, and looked instinctively to where the coffin
had been but a short time before, then laughed nervously and drew himself
together.
The girl caught her breath, and took courage. She had held him for a
minute; could she not hold him longer?
"Think!" said she. "He is but just buried. It is not right to talk of such
things as love in this room where he has just gone out. You must leave me
alone for a little while. I cannot talk and think now. We must respect the
dead, you know." She looked appealingly at him, acting her part
desperately, but well. It was as if she were trying to charm a lion or an
insane man.
He stood admiring her. She argued well. He was half minded to humor her,
for somehow when she spoke of the dead he could see the gleam in her
brother's eyes just before he shot him. Then there was promise in this
wooing. She was no girl to be lightly won, after all.
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