Hamilton's breast heaved and his iron jaws
tightened their pressure until the lines of his cheeks were deep
furrows of pain.
Father Beret, who had just been admitted, quietly took a place at
one side near the wall. There was a fine, warm, benignant smile on
his old face, yet his powerful shoulders drooped as if weighted
down with a heavy load. Hamilton was aware when he entered, and
instantly the scene of their conflict came into his memory with
awful vividness, and he saw Alice lying outstretched, stark and,
cold, the shining strand of hair fluttering across her pallid
cheek. Her ghost overshadowed him.
Just then there was a bird-like movement, a wing-like rustle, and
a light figure flitted swiftly across the area. All eyes were
turned upon it. Hamilton recoiled, as pale as death, half lifting
his hands, as if to ward off a deadly blow, and then a gay flag
was flung out over his head. He saw before him the girl he had
shot; but her beautiful face was not waxen now, nor was it cold or
lifeless. The rich red blood was strong under the browned, yet
delicate skin, the eyes were bright and brave, the cherry lips,
slightly apart, gave a glimpse of pearl white teeth, and the
dimples,--those roguish dimples,--twinkled sweetly.
Colonel Clark looked on in amazement, and in spite of himself, in
admiration.
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