I will not fight. Your desire is
sufficient."
"Coward! You shall fight me! I will call you coward wherever I meet
you."
"No one, who knows us both, will believe you."
It was not the taunt, so much as the look of deep affection which John
gave Phyllis, that irritated the angry man beyond further control.
In a moment he had struck John, and John had cocked his pistol. In
the same moment Phyllis was between them, looking into John's eyes,
and just touching the dangerous weapon. John trembled all over and
dropped it. "Go your ways safely, Richard Fontaine. I could kill you
as easy as a baby, but for Phyllis's sake you are safe."
"But I will make you fight, sir;" and as he uttered the threat, he
attempted to push Phyllis aside. Ere one could have spoken, she had
faced Richard and fallen. Her movement in some way had fired the cocked
pistol, and, with a cry of horror, he flung it from him. John lifted
her. Already the blood was staining the snowy muslin that covered her
breast. But she was conscious.
"Kiss me, John, and go. It was an accident, an accident, dear. Remember
that."
"Stay with her, Richard. I will go for a doctor, my horse is saddled
at the door;" and John rode away, as men ride between life and death.
Richard sat in a stupor of grief, supporting the white form that tried
to smile upon him, until the eyes closed in a death-like
unconsciousness.
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