Harry stood silent and motionless, his eyes fixed upon the grief-stricken
figure of the girl, his brain in a tumult. His heart was driving him to
forget everything but that he loved her, to take her in his arms and
swear to shield her and cherish her, come what might. At this moment
Sergeant Monk came from the house.
'Not a sign of him,' he said. 'Did you see any thing of him, Hardy?
'Not a glimpse,' answered Harry mechanically.
'Did you go inside?'
'No; Miss Shine refused admittance.'
'Why are you here, miss?' asked Monk, turning sharply to Christina.
'I am here because it is my home,' she answered unsteadily.
'But don't you live with the Summers family?'
'People may not care to shelter the daughter of--of one suspected of
robbery and almost murder.' The girl's head sank lower still and a
convulsive sob shook her frame; but she controlled herself with a brave
effort of will and sat immovable.
Monk's horse was nosing in the bucket under the tap of the tank, and
Harry stooped and turned the tap. The water ran swiftly, filling the
bucket in a few seconds. While the horse drank the sergeant gave
whispered orders to Casey; and Christina, with steadfast eyes and locked
fingers, sat waiting for Harry to speak the dreaded words, wondering at
his silence. Monk moved round the house, peering into all the corners,
and came to the tank again.
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