The Ne'er-Do-Well Part 62

"He says I am too young to know my own mind, and--perhaps that is true, Senor Antonio; perhaps I shall soon forget you and learn to love Ramon as he loves me, I do not know--"

In spite of the pathetic quaver in her voice, Kirk cried with jealous bitterness:

"You don't seem to object very strongly; you seem to care about as much for Alfarez as you do for me. Is that it?"

"Yes, senor," she said, bravely.

"You are lying!" declared Stephanie, suddenly.

The girl burst into a perfect torrent of weeping that shamed him.

Then, without any invitation, she flung herself recklessly into his arms and lay there, trembling, palpitating like an imprisoned bird. "Forgive me, dear," he exclaimed, softly. "I knew better all the time. You mustn't think of doing what they ask; I won't allow it." His own heart-beats were shaking him, and he hardly knew what he was saying. The sight of her grief maddened him. It was as if they had taken advantage of his helpless little maid to hurt her maliciously, and his indignation blazed forth. She looked up with eyes gleaming through her tears and said, brokenly:

"Senor, I love you truly. You see, I cannot lie."

Her breath intoxicated him, and he bent his head to kiss her, but Stephanie tore her roughly from his arms. The woman showed the strength of a man, and her vulture-like face was working fiercely as she cried:

"No! She is mine! She is mine! She is a good girl."

"Stephanie! She loves me, don't you see?"

"No, no!" The black woman drew the girl into the shelter of her own arms.

"Oh, I am wicked," Gertrudis said. "I love you, Keerk--yes, I love you very dearly, but my father--he refuses--I must obey--he has the right, and I must do as he wishes."

"Come with me now. We'll be married to-night," he urged; but she only clung to Stephanie more closely, as if to hold herself from falling.

"You are very sweet to me," she said, with piteous tenderness, "and I shall never forget the honor; but you see I cannot. This is more to my father than his life; it is the same to all our family, and I must do my duty. I will pray for strength to keep from loving you, senor, and some day, perhaps, the dear G.o.d will hear.

You must do likewise, and pray also for me to have courage, I could not let you go away thinking this was my doing, so I sent for you. No, one must obey one's people, for they are wise--and good. But one should be honest."

The tears were stealing down her cheeks, and she thrilled to his pleadings as to some wondrous music, yet she was like adamant, and all his lover's desperation could not shake her. It was strange to see this slender, timid slip of a girl so melting and yet so cruelly firm. He appealed to Stephanie, but she was as unresponsive as a bronze image. Seeing that his urging only made matters worse, he said, more gently:

"You are exalted now with the spirit of self-sacrifice, but later you will see that I am right. I am not discouraged. A thousand things may happen. Who knows what to-morrow may bring? Let's wait and see if we can't find a way out. Now that I know you love me, I have the courage to face anything, and I am going to win you, Chiquita. I have never lost in all my life, and I don't intend to begin now. I'll see your father in the morning, and I'll be here again, to-morrow night--"

But at this Gertrudis cried out: "No, no! I cannot meet you again in this manner." And Stephanie nodded her agreement.

"Then I'll see you the next night, that is Sat.u.r.day. You are coming to the big ball at the Tivoli with him and the Cortlandts-- I must see you then, so make sure to be there, and meanwhile don't give up."

"Oh, there is no hope."

"There is always hope. I'll think of something."

"We must go," said the Barbadian woman, warningly.

"Yes, yes! It is of no avail to resist," came the girl's choking voice. She stretched out her little hand, and then, looking up at him, said, uncertainly: "I--may never speak with you again alone, senor, and I must pray to--cease loving you; but will you--kiss me once so that I may never forget?"

He breathed a tender exclamation and took her gently to his breast, while the negress stood by scowling and muttering.

The memory of that long, breathless moment lived with him for years. Strangely enough, at the touch of her lips he felt his courage forsake him--it ran out like water. He became weak, fearful, despairing, as if it were his life that was ebbing away.

And the pang when she drew herself from him was like a bayonet- thrust. Even when she and Stephanie had melted into the shadows, he stood motionless under the spell of that caress, its ecstasy still suffusing him.

He found himself following slowly in the direction they had taken in the hope of catching just one more glimpse of her, but as he emerged from the darkness of the park he paused. There across the street, in the little open shrine set in the corner of the great cathedral, she was kneeling before the s.h.i.+ning figure of the Madonna. The candle-glow that illumined the holy image and shone out so hopefully against the gloom showed her crouched close before the altar, her dark head bowed in uttermost dejection.

Outside, and barely revealed, stood the tall, gaunt Bajan woman, silent, watchful, and forbidding.

With a painful grip at his throat Kirk watched until the girl rose and hurried away into the shadows. Then he, too, turned and made his way up the street, but he went slowly, unseeingly, as if he had beheld a vision.

For the first time in his life he was a prey to fear. A thousand panics clamored at him, his mind began working with the exaggerated speed of a person in dire peril. Once more, as upon that night when he had first called at her father's house, he turned abruptly at the corner to stare at her window, and again he surprised a figure skulking after him. Without a moment's hesitation he made after it at a run, but the fellow dodged into the Plaza and disappeared among the shrubbery. Not caring to pursue the chase into those lurking shadows Kirk desisted, certain only of one thing--that he was not Allan who was trailing him. He recalled the oft-repeated threats of Ramon Alfarez, and returned to his quarters by way of the lighted thoroughfares.

XXIV

A BUSINESS PROPOSITION

Edith Cortlandt's interview with the rival candidates for the Panamanian Presidency formed but a part of her plan. She next held a long conversation with Colonel Jolson, to the end that on Friday morning Runnels heard a rumor that threw him into the greatest consternation. It was to the effect that instead of his succeeding to the office of Superintendent, he was to retain his old post, and that Colonel Jolson's brother-in-law was to supersede him.

Although the word was not authoritative, it came with sufficient directness to leave him aghast. If true, it was, of course, equivalent to his discharge, for it meant that he could not even continue in his former position without putting himself in a light intolerable to any man of spirit. Since he was ent.i.tled to the promotion, had been promised it, in fact, and had made his plans accordingly, there was no course open except resignation. If he did not resign voluntarily, he knew that his new superior would eventually force him to do so, for Blakeley would build up an organization of his own, and in it there would be no place for one who had aspired to the highest office.

Inasmuch as his a.s.sistant was concerned in this threatened calamity, Runnels made haste to lay the matter before him. At first Kirk was inclined to take it as a joke, but his friend quickly brought him to a more serious frame of mind.

"No," he said, "Blakeley has finally put it over. He's wanted this position for a long time, and I guess the Cortlandts weren't strong enough to prevent it--or else they have broken with the Colonel."

"Didn't he promise you the job?"

"Sure! But what are promises? I've been double-crossed, that's all. It means I must quit."

"Of course. I'm trying to figure out what it will mean to me."

Runnels smiled grimly. "The same thing it would mean to me if I stayed, I'd go back to my desk; in a month I'd have a row with Blakeley, no matter what I did; then I'd be fired and have a tough time getting a job with another railroad. Of course, the Cortlandts might do more for you than they would for me, and you might be able to hang on."

"Then this would seem to end our fine hopes, eh?"

"Rather!" Runnels broke out, bitterly. "I've worked like a n.i.g.g.e.r, Kirk, and I deserve promotion if anybody ever did. This other fellow is a dub--he has proven that. Why, I've forgotten more railroading than he'll ever know. Every man on the system hates him and likes me; and on top of it all I was PROMISED the job.

It's tough on the wife and the kid."

He stopped to swallow his emotion. He was a single-purposed, somewhat serious man, a little lacking in resilience, and he could not meet misfortune with Kirk's careless self-confidence.

"I gave this job the best I had in me," he went on, "for I had the idea that I was doing something patriotic, something for my country--that's the way they used to talk about this Ca.n.a.l, you know. I've put in four years of h.e.l.l; I've lost step with the world; I've lost my business connections in the States; and I haven't saved up any money, I CAN'T quit, and yet I'll have to, for if I'm fired it'll mean I'll have to go back there and start at the bottom again. Those people don't know anything about these d.a.m.ned politics; they'll think I made a failure here in government work, and I'll have to live it down. Still, I suppose I ought not to kick--it's happening all the time to other fellows who came down here with hopes as high as mine--fellows who have given even more to the job than I have. What are YOU going to do?"

Kirk started. "Oh, I don't know. I was thinking about you. This job doesn't worry me, for I'm on my feet at last, and I know I have the goods with me--they can have my position and welcome.

Now, about you. I haven't spent much of that lottery coin. It's in the bank, all that Allan hasn't used, and half of it is yours, if you'll take it. You and Mrs. Runnels and the kid, and Allan and I --and one other party--will hike back home and get something else to do. What do you say?"

Runnels' voice shook as he answered: "By Jove! You're the--real stuff, Anthony. I'll think it over." He turned away as if ashamed of his show of feeling, only to whirl about with the question, "Who is this 'other party'?"

"My wife."

"Good Lord! You're not married?"