His body was weary with the exertion of the past few days, his mind more
weary still with the strain of solitary waiting for his fate. Never
before had he felt so helpless. He had heard the report of the gun fired
on board the launch, and he knew that his life was in untrustworthy
hands, and that his enemies were very near. During the slow hours of the
afternoon he roamed about on the edge of the forest, or, hiding in the
bushes, watched the creek with unquiet eyes for some sign of danger. He
feared not death, yet he desired ardently to live, for life to him was
Nina. She had promised to come, to follow him, to share his danger and
his splendour. But with her by his side he cared not for danger, and
without her there could be no splendour and no joy in existence.
Crouching in his shady hiding-place, he closed his eyes, trying to evoke
the gracious and charming image of the white figure that for him was the
beginning and the end of life. With eyes shut tight, his teeth hard set,
he tried in a great effort of passionate will to keep his hold on that
vision of supreme delight. In vain! His heart grew heavy as the figure
of Nina faded away to be replaced by another vision this time--a vision
of armed men, of angry faces, of glittering arms--and he seemed to hear
the hum of excited and triumphant voices as they discovered him in his
hiding-place.
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