LASSITER'S WAY
"Kiss me!" she whispered, blindly.
"No—not at your price!" he answered. His voice had changed, or she had lost clearness of hearing.
"Kiss me! . . . Are you a man? Kiss me and save me!"
"Jane, you never played fair with me. But now you're blisterin' your lips—blackenin' your soul with lies!"
"By the memory of my mother—by my Bible—no! No, I have no Bible! But by my hope of heaven I swear I love you!"
Lassiter's gray lips formed soundless words that meant even her love could not avail to bend his will. As if the hold of her arms was that of a child's he loosened it and stepped away.
"Wait! Don't go! Oh, hear a last word! . . . May a more just and merciful God than the God I was taught to worship judge me—forgive me—save me! For I can no longer keep silent! . . . Lassiter, in pleading for Dyer I've been pleading more for my father. My father was a Mormon master, close to the leaders of the church. It was my father who sent Dyer out to proselyte. It was my father who had the blue-ice eye and the beard of gold. It was my father you got trace of in the past years. Truly, Dyer ruined Milly Erne—dragged her from her home—to Utah—to Cottonwoods. But it was for my father! If Milly Erne was ever wife of a Mormon that Mormon was my father! I never knew—never will know whether or not she was a wife. Blind I may be, Lassiter—fanatically faithful to a false religion I may have been, but I know justice, and my father is beyond human justice. Surely he is meeting just punishment—somewhere. Always it has appalled me—the thought of your killing Dyer for my father's sins. So I have prayed!"
"Jane, the past is dead. In my love for you I forgot the past. This thing I'm about to do ain't for myself,
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