"You told me you didn't have time to love because this forest was your life; you've been fooled, Helen, fooled by a slick tongue and—and—you've been blind to what's goin' on. You've not only risked losin' what you call your life, but you've risked breakin' your heart! I can't talk the way he can, but I can't lie the way he can! I can't lie with words, I can't live a lie! Oh, I knew! I knew from the beginnin'. I couldn't be quite sure then, and you wouldn't believe me—But I am sure now! I could tell you the whole story. I could tell you what Taylor meant when he kisses you; I could tell you about this man Rowe, but I won't. Ask him!" He flung out an arm toward Taylor in the river. The girl held her eyes on his and her lips moved, but no sound came from them. "Bring him here," the woodsman said heavily, "and I'll make him tell you!"
For a moment she stared into his face. "You want me to bring—John Taylor here—to tell me—?"
Wretched suspicion ran through her. She was helpless to do else than yield to that suspicion before this man who was so certain, so convincing.
"Yes—Now!"
She went down the steps, crossed the plot of dry sod. Her legs were not steady. The one hand was again at her breast. She did not consciously move along; it was as though the will of the woodsman prompted every minute movement of her body. She reached the path beside the river bank and faltered and went on. Taylor, moving back to the high-riding hemlock log in the center of the freed raft, looked up. He waved and smiled; and then stopped still, for even at that distance her weakness was evident.
