You must let me explain."
CHAPTER IX
The girl had moved a step towards him as she spoke, and a gleam of
sunlight which had found its way into the grove flashed for a moment
on the. stray little curls of her brown-gold hair and across her
face. Her lips were parted in a delightful smile; she was very
pretty, and inclined to be apologetic. But Scarlett Trent had seen
nothing save that first glance when the sun had touched her face
with fire. A strong man at all times, and more than commonly
self-masterful, he felt himself now as helpless as a child. A
sudden pallor had whitened his face to the lips, there were strange
singings in his ears, and a mist before his eyes. It was she!
There was no possibility of any mistake. It was the girl for whose
picture he had gambled in the hut at Bekwando - Monty's baby-girl,
of whom he had babbled even in death. He leaned against a tree,
stricken dumb, and she was frightened. "You are ill," she cried.
"I'm so sorry. Let me run to the house and fetch some one!"
He had strength enough to stop her. A few deep breaths and he was
himself again, shaken and with a heart beating like a steam-engine,
but able at least to talk intelligently.
"I'm sorry - didn't mean to frighten you," he said.
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