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Chapter 17

           UndertheirshadowcouldIlive;undertheirshadowletme—"

           Theword:"love"uppermostinherthoughts—wasuponthetipofhertongue.

           Shedexterouslyrestrainedherselffrompronouncingit—changingittooneofverydifferentsignification—"die."

           ItwascrueloftheyoungIrishmannottotellherthatshewasspeakinghisownsentiments—repeatingthemtotheveryecho.Tothiswastheprairieindebtedforhispresence.Butforakindredinclination—amountingalmosttoapassion—hemightneverhavebeenknownasMauricethemustanger.

           Theromanticsentimentisnotsatisfiedwitha"sham."Itwillsoonconsumeitself,unlesssupportedbytheconsciousnessofreality.Themustangerwouldhavebeenhumiliatedbythethought,thathechasedthewildhorseasamerepastime—apretexttokeephimupontheprairies.Atfirst,hemighthavecondescendedtomakesuchanacknowledgment—buthehadoflatebecomethoroughlyimbuedwiththeprideoftheprofessionalhunter.

           Hisreplymighthaveappearedchillinglyprosaic.

           "Ifear,miss,youwouldsoontireofsucharudelife—norooftoshelteryou—nosociety—no—"

           "Andyou,sir;howisityouhavenotgrowntiredofit?IfIhavebeencorrectlyinformed—yourfriend,MrStump,ismyauthority—you’vebeenleadingthislifeforseveralyears.Isitso?"

           "Quitetrue:Ihavenoothercalling."

           "Indeed!IwishIcouldsaythesame.Ienvyyouyourlot.

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