A part of what he might have said--a part of the strange, joyous tumult in his heart--betrayed itself in his face, and before that betrayal the girl drew back slowly, the color fading from her cheeks.
"And I believe you will not lie to me again," he said.
She rose to her feet and flung back her hair, looking down on him in the manner of one who had never before met this kind of man, and knew not what to make of him.
"No, I will not lie to you again," she replied, more firmly.

"Do you believe me now ?" "Yes." "Then go back into the South.

I have come to tell you that again to-night--to _make_ you believe me.

You should have turned back at Le Pas.

If you don't go--to-morrow--" Her voice seemed to choke her, and she stood without finishing, leaving him to understand what she had meant to say.