"I choose to break her heart!" I answered. "Because that is the truth,
and that is right. I only know one way to ride, and that is straight."
He smiled at me coldly in his frosty beard. "That sounds well from you!"
he said bitterly. "Ellen!" he raised his voice. "Ellen, I say, come here
at once!"
It was my ear which first heard the rustling of her footsteps at the
edge of the thicket as she approached. She came before us slowly,
halting, leaning on her crutch. A soft flush shone through the brown
upon her cheeks.
I shall not forget in all my life the picture of her as she stood.
Neither shall I forget the change which came across her face as she saw
us sitting there silent, cold, staring at her. Then, lovable in her
rags, beautiful in her savagery, the gentleness of generations of
culture in all her mien in spite of her rude surroundings, she stepped
up and laid her hand upon her father's shoulder, one finger half
pointing at the ragged scroll of hide which lay upon the ground before
us. I loved her--ah, how I loved her then!
"I signed that, father," she said gently. "I was going to sign it,
little by little, a letter each week. We were engaged--nothing more.
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