Before she could answer, he was gone.

A few minutes later, Sibyl stood in the open door.  “Mr. Marston,” she called.

“Yes, Miss Andres,” came, instantly, out of the darkness.

“Please come into the cabin.”

There was no answer.

“It will be cold out there.  Please come inside.”

“Thank you, Miss Andres; but I will do very nicely.  Bar the door and go to sleep.”

“But, Mr. Marston, I will sleep better if I know that you are comfortable.”

The man came to her and she saw him in the dim light of the fire, standing hat in hand.  He spoke wonderingly.  “Do you mean, Miss Andres, that you would not be afraid to sleep, if I occupied the cabin with you?”

“No,” she answered, “I am not afraid.  Come in.”

But he did not move to cross the threshold.  “And why are you not afraid?” he asked curiously.

“Because,” she answered, “I know that you are a gentleman.”

The man laughed harshly—­such a laugh as Sibyl had never before heard.  “A gentleman!  This is the first time I have heard that word in connection with myself for many a year, Miss Andres.  You have little reason for using it—­after what I have done to you—­and am doing.”

“Oh, but you see, I know that you are forced to do what you are doing.  You are a gentleman, Mr. Marston.—­Won’t you please come in and sleep by the fire?  You will be so uncomfortable out there.  And you have had such a hard day.”

“God bless you, for your good heart, Miss Andres,” the man said brokenly.  “But I will not intrude upon your privacy to-night.  Don’t you see,” he added savagely, “don’t you see that I—­I can’t? Bar your door, please, and let me play the part assigned to me.  Your kindness to me, your confidence in me, is wasted.”

He turned abruptly away and disappeared in the darkness.

Chapter XXXVI

What Should He Do

The next morning, it was evident to Sibyl Andres that the man who said his name was Henry Marston had not slept.

All that day, she watched the battle—­saw him fighting with himself.  He kept apart from her, and spoke but little.  When night came, as soon as supper was over, he again left the cabin, to spend the long, dark hours in a struggle that the girl could only dimly sense.  She could not understand; but she felt him fighting, fighting; and she knew that he fought for her.  What was it?  What terrible unseen force mastered this man,—­compelled him to do its bidding,—­even while he hated and loathed himself for submitting?

Watchful, ready, hoping, despairing, the helpless girl could only pray that her companion might be given strength.

The following morning, at breakfast, he told her that he must go to Granite Peak to signal.  His orders were to lock her in the cabin, and to go alone; but he would not.  She might go with him, if she chose.