Had he turned to
look back, he would have witnessed a striking tableau.
Desire had thrown herself into a chair and buried her face in her
arms, against whose rounded whiteness the crimsoned ear tips and
temples testified to the shameful glow upon the hidden face while her
mother stood gazing at her, amazement and indignation pictured on her
face. For a full half minute she stood thus, and then said:
"My daughter, what does this mean?"
There was no answer, save that, at the voice of her mother, a warm
glow appeared upon the nape of the girl's neck, and even spread over
the glistening shoulders, while her form shook with a single
convulsive sob.
"Desire, tell me this instant," exclaimed Mrs. Edwards.
The girl threw up her head and faced her mother, her eyes blazing with
indignant shame and glistening with tears, which were quite dried up
by her hot cheeks ere they had run half their course.
"You saw," she said in a low, hard, fierce tone, "the fellow kissed
me. He does it when he pleases. I have no one to protect me."
"Why do you let him? Why didn't you cry out?"
"And let father be whipped, let him be killed! Don't you know why I
didn't?" cried the girl in a voice hoarse with excitement and
overwhelming exasperation that the motive of the sacrifice should not
be understood, even for a moment.
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