Page:Randall Parrish--My Lady of the South.djvu/65

CAUGHT IN THE TRAP I—I must have been dreaming," I ventured, still striving to retard the inevitable exposure. But by now she had become convinced that something was wrong; had grown alarmed, indignant. I heard the sharp indrawing of her breath, and marked the uplifting of her hand as if to shade her eyes.

"You—you are not Calvert Dunn," she ejaculated swiftly. "Your voice is unlike his."

I stared at her, my lips dry, my tongue useless, even reeling myself tremble in the saddle.

"Tell me the truth! Who—who are you?" The girl's voice faltered and broke, her hands pulling so hard on the reins as to cause her restless mare to back away.

I was compelled to speak now, rapidly, my voice full of a sympathy and earnestness I made no effort to conceal. She appealed to me; outside her unfortunate situation, merely as a woman she appealed. Even the bravery with which she faced me, sitting there straight and slender in the saddle, was pathetic.

"Don't draw back," I said quickly. "Don't be afraid. Nothing will harm you. I pledge you the word and honor of a soldier that no unfriendly hand shall touch you, no word be spoken to which you need object. Only listen and I will explain all. It is true I am not Lieutenant Dunn, but you are personally as safe with me as you would be riding this road with him. I mean to take you to his people at Fairview, and leave you there entirely unharmed by this night's adventure."

"But—but who are you?"

"A soldier left wounded on the field, who, seeking to [ 57 ]