will look after myself. It's a shame to bring all these wet things in here, I say!"
"You are a-steamin' like you are a steam engine," piped little Hoyle, peering at him over his mother's shoulder from the far corner of her bed.
"You lie down and go to sleep again, youngster," said David.
And gradually they all fell asleep, while Thryng sat long before the fire and pondered until Cassandra slept. Once and again a deep quivering sigh trembled through her parted lips, as he watched beside her. A warm rose hue played over her still features, cast by the dancing red flames, and her hair in a dishevelled mass swept across the pillow and down to the floor. At last the rain ceased; warmed and dried, Thryng stole away from the silent house and rode back to his own cabin.
To be continued...
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