"No, worse luck!" Uncle Henry said.
"He's gone?" Pell said.
"The rangers came," Hardy explained.
"Texas?" from Pell.
"Yes, gol darn 'em!" Uncle Henry let out.
Lucia, who had been watching Pell's face every second, now offered him the
bowl of water with her own hands, and drew closer to him. She picked up the
towel that had fallen to the table, and folded it, then dampened it. Pell
looked up and saw her for the first time.
"Oh, so there you are, my dear!" was his cynical greeting.
Lucia still stared at him. "I thought--I thought--you were dead," she
murmured. Her voice sounded far away to her. It was scarcely a whisper.
"So it seems!" Morgan Pell answered, his lip curling. "My dear, I regret to
disappoint you. But aside from a slight pain in my head, I was never better
in my whole life!" He wanted to see the effect of his words.
"Shall I bandage your wound for you?" his dutiful wife asked.
He looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Thank you--no," he said.
Lucia sat down on the other side of the table.
Not a word more was said. Pell took out his own handkerchief, and started
to dip it in the bowl of water. But he was shaking still, and the piece of
linen dropped to the floor.
Pages:
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211