There was some strain in his passionate voice that stirred terrific emotion in the girl, awakening new, tumultuous impulses. It gave her a mad desire to do something, something for her father, something for herself. At that moment she loved him very much indeed and was ready to go to any length to help him. He had told her she must leave. Perhaps---Virginia glanced through the window into the darkness. Through the falling snow she could see a giant pine throw out appealing arms. They were like beckoning, sentient beings to the girl, who loved nature with all the passionate strength of her young being. Yet to-night they filled her with new wonder,--an awe she had never felt before. Despite her onrushing thoughts, she tried to calm her mind, to say with eager emphasis: "Shall I run to-night--now?"
"No, not to-night; don't leave me yet. Sit down in the chair again; stay until I tell you."
"All right," murmured Virginia, walking away.
The father watched the fire a few minutes.
"I'll give you a letter to Grandoken, Lafe Grandoken," he said presently, looking up. "For your mother's sake he'll take you, and some day you can repay him. You see it's this way: Your mother trusted your uncle more than she did me, or she'd never have given you into his care in case of my death. Well, he's got me, and he'll get you."
With no thought of disobedience, Virginia slipped from the chair to her feet.
"He won't get me if I run now, will he?" she questioned breathlessly; "not if I go to--what'd you say his name was?"
She was all excitement, ready to do whatever she was bidden. Slowly, as she stood there, the tremendous suspense left her.
"Why couldn't we both go, you and me?" she entreated eagerly. "Let's both go to-night. I'll take care of you. I'll see you don't get wet."
Her glance met and held his for a few seconds. The vibrant voice thrilled and stirred the father as if he had been dead and suddenly slipped back to life again. A brave smile, tenderly sweet, broke over Virginia's lips.
"Come," she said, holding out her hands. "Come, I'll get my fiddle and we'll go."
He was struck by the vehemence of her appeal. He allowed himself to listen for a moment--to overbalance all his preconceived plans, but just then his past life, Jordan Morse, his own near approaching end, sank into his mind, and the fire in his eyes went out. There was finality in the shake of his shoulders.