"
Diane gave a sigh of relief and lay very quiet.
Philip wisely said nothing. He shifted the lantern so his own face
might be in the shadow and for some reason of his own, fell to speaking
of Carl. He told of Mic-co, of the quiet hours of healing by the pool,
of another night of storm and stress when Carl had gone forth into the
wilds with the Indian girl.
For the first time now he felt that he had pierced the girl's shell of
tragic introspection and caught her interest. Though the rain came
faster and the lantern flickered, Philip went on with his quiet story.
He spoke of the forces that had fired Carl to drunken resentment, the
defection of his comrades, his conviction of injustice in the
apportionment of the Westfall estate, the climax of his sensitive
rebellion against Diane's attitude toward his mother, the morose and
morbid loneliness which had driven him relentlessly to ruin.
"What did he hope to gain by writing to Houdania?" asked the girl a
little bitterly.
"Money!" said Philip firmly. "He fancied he could frighten them and
put a heavy price upon his silence. Later when his letter to Houdania
was ignored he altered his plans. If he could prove that you were the
daughter of Theodomir and not of Norman Westfall--then the great estate
of his uncle would revert to him.
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