” She was frightened—his anger always did frighten her—and in her resolve to conceal her fright she carried a queen-like dignity to what she felt even at the time was a preposterous pitch. The trader you spoke about: he disliked your father, didn't he? Well, he probably played your father a horrible practical joke. But it would serve. When he awoke it was late in the day, and he was surprised to find Blueskin seated by his bedside, watching over him with a drawn sword on his knee, a pistol in each hand, and a blood-stained cloth bound across his brow. For a moment she too had started and faltered in her exit from the room. A faint anticipation of triumph showed in his manner and a subdued excitement.
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