'Pon my honor. I envy
the lucky dog; don't you?"
The door closed quite as quickly again, and Lester was alone with his
bitter thoughts.
"What have I done that a just God should torture me thus?" he cried out
in an agony so intense that great beads of cold perspiration gathered on
his forehead and rolled unheeded down his white cheeks. "If he tortured
me to the gates of death I could endure it, but the very thought that my
innocent darling, my beautiful, tender little Faynie, is in that
dastardly villain's power, fairly goads me to madness. Oh, Heaven! if I
but had the strength of Samson for but a single hour, to burst these
cruel bonds asunder and fly to my dear one's side!"
But, struggle as he would, the thongs which bound him, rendering him
powerless to aid the girl he loved, would not give way.
Thus a fortnight passed, and Halloran was beside himself with wonder to
find each morning that Lester was still alive and that he had not gone
mad.
But Lester Armstrong's guardian angel had not quite forgotten him;
Heaven had not intended that he should die by thirst and starvation in
that isolated cabin, and served him in a strange, unlooked-for way.
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