“You!” she gasped, stopping short.  But the scorn had gone out of her voice, and somehow he knew that he was already in her thoughts when he spoke.  He put out a hand toward her.

“Don’t touch me!” she whispered, shrinking sharply.

There, in the compelling darkness, with danger waiting outside, they could not hide their souls from each other.  “Colina,” he whispered, “don’t harden yourself against me to-night.  I love you!”

Her breath came quickly.  She could not speak.  Her anger against Ambrose was, at the best, a pumped-up affair.  She felt obliged to hate him because she loved her father.  And her overweening pride had supported it.  All this fell away now.  She longed to believe in him.

Perceiving his advantage he followed it close.

“It may be the last night,” he whispered.  “I’m not afraid to speak of death to you.  You’re no coward.  Colina, it would be hard to die thinking that you hated me!”

“Don’t!” she murmured painfully.  “Don’t try to soften me.  I need to be hard.”

“Not to me,” he whispered.  “I love you!’”

She was silent.  He heard her breathing on a shaken breast.

“If I knew it was my last word I should say the same,” he went on.  “I came back to Enterprise because I thought I had to come to save you!”

“It hasn’t turned out that way, has it?” she said sadly and bitterly.

“There is some evil influence working against us all,” he said.  “If I live I shall show you.”

“I don’t know what to think,” she murmured.

They were standing close together.  Suddenly the sense of her nearness in the dark, the delicate emanation of her hair, of her whole person, overwhelmed his senses like a wave.

“Oh, my darling,” he murmured brokenly.  “Those devils outside can only kill me once.  You make me die a thousand deaths!”

“Ah, don’t!” she whispered sharply.  “Not now.  First, I must believe in you!”

He beat down the passion that dizzied him.  He sought for her hand and gripped it firmly.  She allowed it.  “Listen,” he said.  “Take me into the light and look in my eyes.”

Her hand turned in his and took command of it, drawing him after her.  Crossing the stair-hall they entered the dining-room.  Colina closed the door and lighted the lamp.

Ambrose gazed at her hungrily.  She came to him straight and, offering him both her hands, looked deep into his eyes.

“Now tell me,” she murmured.

This was the real Colina, simple as a child.  Her eyes—­the lamp being behind her—­showed as deep and dark as the night sky.

Her lovely face yearned up to his, and Ambrose’s self-command tottered again—­but this was no moment for passion.  His voice shook, but his eyes were as steady as hers.

“I love you,” he said quietly.  “When you hated me most I was doing the best for you that I could.  I—­I’m afraid I sound like a prig.  But it is the truth.  I stood out against you when I thought you were wrong because I loved you!”