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Betty Zane-Part13_Zane Gray(1872-1939)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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cave. Lewis tells me that a number of Indians have camped there for days. He

shot the one who was calling and followed the others until he found where they



had taken Isaac's trail."

Betty turned to the younger man with tearful eyes, and with beseeching voice



implored them to save her brother.

"I am ready to follow you," said Clarke to Wetzel.



The hunter shook his head, but did not answer.

"It is that hateful White Crane," passionately burst out Betty, as the



Colonel's wife led her weeping into the house.

"Did you get more than one shot at them?" asked Clarke.



The hunter nodded, and the slight, inscrutable smile flitted across his stern

features. He never spoke of his deeds. For this reason many of the thrilling



adventures which he must have had will forever remain unrevealed. That evening

there was sadness at Colonel Zane's supper table. They felt the absence of the



Colonel's usual spirits, his teasing of Betty, and his cheerful conversation.

He had nothing to say. Betty sat at the table a little while, and then got up



and left the room saying she could not eat. Jonathan, on hearing of his

brother's recapture, did not speak, but retired in gloomy silence. Silas was



the only one of the family who was not utterly depressed. He said it could

have been a great deal worse; that they must make the best of it, and that the



sooner Isaac married his Indian Princess the better for his scalp and for the

happiness of all concerned.



"I remember Myeerah very well," he said. "It was eight years ago, and she was

only a child. Even then she was very proud and willful, and the loveliest girl



I ever laid eyes on."

Alfred Clarke staid late at Colonel Zane's that night. Before going away for



so many weeks he wished to have a few more moments alone with Betty. But a

favorable opportunity did not present itself during the evening, so when he



had bade them all goodbye and goodnight, except Betty, who opened the door for

him, he said softly to her:



"It is bright moonlight outside. Come, please, and walk to the gate with me."

A full moon shone serenely down on hill and dale, flooding the valley with its



pure white light and bathing the pastures in its glory; at the foot of the

bluff the waves of the river gleamed like myriads of stars all twinkling and



dancing on a bed of snowy clouds. Thus illumined the river wound down the

valley, its brilliance growing fainter and fainter until at last, resembling



the shimmering of a silver thread which joined the earth to heaven, it

disappeared in the horizon.



"I must say goodbye," said Alfred, as they reached the gate.

"Friends must part. I am sorry you must go, Mr. Clarke, and I trust you may



return safe. It seems only yesterday that you saved my brother's life, and I

was so grateful and happy. Now he is gone."



"You should not think about it so much nor brood over it," answered the young

man. "Grieving will not bring him back nor do you any good. It is not nearly



so bad as if he had been captured by some other tribe. Wetzel assures us that

Isaac was taken alive. Please do not grieve."



"I have cried until I cannot cry any more. I am so unhappy. We were children

together, and I have always loved him better than any one since my mother



died. To have him back again and then to lose him! Oh! I cannot bear it."

She covered her face with her hands and a low sob escaped her.



"Don't, don't grieve," he said in an unsteady voice, as he took the little

hands in his and pulled them away from her face.



Betty trembled. Something in his voice, a tone she had never heard before

startled her. She looked up at him half unconscious that he still held her



hands in his. Never had she appeared so lovely.

"You cannot understand my feelings."



"I loved my mother."

"But you have not lost her. That makes all the difference."



"I want to comfort you and I am powerless. I am unable to say what--I--"

He stopped short. As he stood gazing down into her sweet face, burning,



passionate words came to his lips; but he was dumb; he could not speak. All

day long he had been living in a dream. Now he realized that but a moment



remained for him to be near the girl he loved so well. He was leaving her,

perhaps never to see her again, or to return to find her another's. A fierce



pain tore his heart.

"You--you are holding my hands," faltered Betty, in a doubtful, troubled



voice. She looked up into his face and saw that it was pale with suppressed

emotion.



Alfred was mad indeed. He forgot everything. In that moment the world held

nothing for him save that fair face. Her eyes, uplifted to his in the






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