James. Slowly the hope that Obadiah
might speak to him died away and he returned to the door. It still
lacked an hour of midnight, when Marion, had promised to come to him. He
was wildly impatient and to his impatience was added the fear that had
filled him as he hovered over Obadiah, a nameless, intangible
fear--something which he could not have analyzed and which clutched at
his heart and urged him to follow the path that led to Marion's. For a
time he resisted the impulse. What if she should come by another path
while he was gone? He waited nervously in the edge of the forest,
watching, and listening for footsteps. Each minute seemed like an hour
marked into seconds by the solemn steady tolling of the bell, and after
a little he found himself unconsciously measuring time by counting the
strokes. Then he went out into the path. He followed it, step by step,
until he could no longer see the light in the cabin; his pulse beat a
little faster; he stared ahead into the deep gloom between the walls of
forest--and quickened his pace. If Marion was coming to him he would
meet her. If she was not coming--
In his old fearless way he promptly made up his mind. He would go boldly
to the cabin and tell her that Neil was waiting. He felt sure that the
alarm sounding from St. James had drawn away the guards and that there
would be nothing to interfere with his plan. If she had already left the
cabin he would return quickly to Obadiah's. In his eagerness he began to
run.
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