The shade of woe and tragedy in her face were the same as he had pictured there in his gloomy vigil of the night.
"My friend, I was coming to you....

Oh, I can bear no more!" Her hair was disheveled, her dress disordered, the hands she tremblingly held out bore discolored marks.

Wade led her into the seclusion of the willow trail.
"Oh, Ben!...

He fought me--like--a beast!" she panted.
"Collie, you needn't tell me more," said Wade, gently.

"Go up to Wils.
Tell him." "But I must tell you.