Half an hour's gallop brought the vehicle in sight, and ten minutes
later he came abreast of the buggy and brought his foaming horse to a
trot. 'Stop!' he cried; and Summers, much amazed, pulled up his pair.
Harry threw himself from the saddle, leaving the horse his freedom, and,
going to the buggy, seized Chris by the hand and drew her down towards
him.
'Chris, I want to speak to you. You must, you must!'
He helped her from the vehicle. His attitude was stern and masterful, and
Chris yielded with a sense of awe. Summers regarded the pair for a moment
with pursed lips and bent brows; then a grim smile dawned about his
mouth, and he touched his horses with the whip and drove slowly away down
the road.
Harry and Chris stood upon the plain facing each other, the girl's hands
clasped firmly in those of the man. Harry was dressed just as he had come
from the mine; her neat black frock was marked with the grey dust from
his clothes. He was flushed; his eyes had more of power than of love in
them. She still strove, but felt his strength greater than hers, and her
heart beat painfully. She whispered a pitiful protest when he drew her to
his breast and clasped her closely in his irresistible arms.
'I won't let you go, my dear love--I swear I won't!' he whispered
vehemently.
'You must. Oh, why do you make my task so hard?'
'I won't let you go from me, Chris.
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