sudden movement, pushed him violently; but he only held her closer, and it was as if she struggled against muscles of iron.
"Naw, you don't! I have you now, an' I won't nevah leave you go again." He had not been drinking, yet he was like one drunken, so long had he brooded and waited.
Rapidly she tried to think how she might gain control over him, when, wakened by the struggle, the babe wailed out and he started to his feet, his hands clutching into his hair as if he were struck with sudden fear. He had not noticed or given heed to what lay upon her knees, and the cry penetrated his heart like a knife.
A child! His child—that doctor's child? He hated the thought of it, and the old impulse to strike down anything or any creature that stood in his way seized him—the impulse that, unchecked, had made him a murderer. He could kill, kill! Cassandra gathered the little body to her heart and, standing still before him, looked into his eyes. Instinctively she knew that only calmness and faith in his right action would give her the mastery now, and with a prayer in her heart she spoke quietly.
"How came you here, Frale? You wrote mother you'd gone to Texas." His figure relaxed, and his arms dropped, but still he bent forward and gazed eagerly into her eyes.
"I come back when I heered he war gone. I come back right soon. Cate Irwin's wife writ me 'at he war gone; an' now she done tol' me he ain't nevah goin' to come back to these here