"Oh, Burke--for God's sake--don't kill him! Don't kill him! I
will kill myself--I swear--if you do."
He caught the outflung hands, gripping them hard, assuring himself
that this thing was no illusion. He looked into her eyes of wild
appeal.
She attempted no, further entreaty, but she flung herself against
him, impeding him, holding him back. Over her shoulder he looked
for Guy; and found him.
He was sitting crouched on a low trestle-bed at the further end of
the hut with his head in his hands. Burke turned to the girl who
stood palpitating, pressed against him, still seeking with all her
strength to oppose his advance.
Her wide eyes met his. They were filled with a desperate fear.
"He is ill," she said.
The roar of the rising water filled the place. The ground under
their feet seemed to be shaking.
Burke looked down at the woman he held, and a deadly sensation
arose and possessed him. For the moment he felt sick with an
overpowering longing. The temptation to take her just as she was
and go was almost more than human endurance could bear. He had
undergone so much for her sake. He had suffered so fiery a
torture. The evil impulse gripped and tore him like a living thing.
And then--was it the purity of those eyes upraised to his?--he was
conscious of a change within him. It was as if a quieting touch
had been laid upon him.
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