THE SURRENDER AT DISCRETION. 419 



in form, though her heart did not. She knew her heart 

 did not, and so for that knowledge the more severely she 

 kept herself from his contact. 



Then came a change in her position in life. The In- 

 dian bullet made her an orphan child, and, like him, a 

 vagabond, not knowing where to shelter herself. Guided 

 by his woodcraft to Tampa Bay, she needed all the 

 remembrance of her former hauteur and superiority to 

 guard the safety of her heart. She reasoned to herself, 

 and shamed herself to thinking that where she once felt 

 so superior she could never feel just equal. Her sorrow 

 at her father's death was with her, and she was glad to 

 flee from us away to civilized life, where no such wild 

 imaginings could come across her mind. 



Once again the thoughts of her heart underwent a 

 change. When the hunter came to her in her darkest 

 hour of distress in the light-house, when he nursed her 

 w^ith the tenderness of a woman, when he guarded her 

 with the loyalty of a knight, and after weeks of a simple, 

 humble devotion that was past all show, and silent in 

 words, though ceaseless in acts, finally restored her to 

 life, to wealth, and to her kindred, then Lucy Jackson 

 became conscious to herself, and blushed at the know- 

 ledge. She was all unveiled to her own eyes ; she floated 

 in his approbation, and was crushed by his unimpassioned 

 look. 



But while she had been changing, he, too, had changed, 

 and, like her, acquired a pride all of his own. He was 

 conscious that he had been kept at a distance at Bonda 



