Ailly Blake, who would never be deceived by the resemblance between him
and Winston, was a standing menace while she remained anywhere near the
frontier of Canada. He had discovered that it is usually the last
thing one expects or desires that happens, and it was clearly advisable
for Lance Courthorne to efface himself very shortly, while the easiest
way to do it was to merge his identity with that of the man who had
gone in his name to Silverdale. Winston had, so far as everybody else
knew, been drowned, and he must in the meanwhile, at least, not be
compelled to appear again. It would simplify everything if Ailly
Blake, who evidently did not know of Trooper Shannon's death, went away.
"Well," he said, "I'm glad to hear it, and I'm leaving this country,
too. I'm going east to-morrow to Silverdale. I wonder if I could be
permitted to send you a wedding present."
The girl turned to him with a crimson spot in her cheek, and there was
a little hoarse thrill in her voice that made its impression even on
him.
"Once I thought I'd have every little thing you gave me buried with
me," she said. "I felt I couldn't part with them, and now I'll
remember you often when I should forget,--but whatever you send I'll
burn. I don't know why I'm telling you this, but I can't help it.
Perhaps it's mad, foolish, but I want you to think well of me still."
She stopped and caught her breath with a little gasp, while her voice
grew strained and broken as she went on.
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