The Man Thou Gavest Part 17

"I have had word that my uncle is dead. I must go at once, my dear, and you--you must come with me. Would you let a little thing like a--a dress weigh against our love, and honour?"

Above the native's horror of being dragged from her moorings was that subtle understanding of honour that had come to Nella-Rose by devious ways from a source that held it sacred.

"Honour?" she repeated softly; "honour? If I thought I had to go in rags to make you sure; if I thought I needed to--I'd--"

Truedale saw his mistake. Realizing that if in the little time yet his he made her comprehend, he might lose more than he could hope to gain, he let her free while he took a card and pen from his pocket. He wrote clearly and exactly his address, giving his uncle's home as his.

"Nella-Rose," he said calmly, "I shall be back in two or three weeks at the latest, but if at any moment you want me, send word here--telegraph from the station--_you_ come first, always! You are wiser than I, my sweet; our honour and love are our own. Wait for me, my doney-gal and--trust me."

She was all joy again--all sweetness. He kissed her, turned, then came back.

"Where will you go, my darling?" he asked.

"Since they-all do not know"--she was lying against his breast, her eyes heavy now with grief at the parting--"I reckon I will go home--to wait."

Solemnly Truedale kissed her and turned dejectedly away. Once again he paused and looked back. She stood against the tree, small and shabby, but the late afternoon sun transfigured her. In the gloomy setting of the woods, that fair, little face shone like a gleaming star and so Truedale remembered her and took her image with him on his lonely way.

Nella-Rose watched him out of sight and then she turned and did something that well might make one wonder if a wise G.o.d or a cruel demon controls our fates--she ran away from the home path and took the trail leading far back to the cabin of old Lois Ann!

There was safety; there were compa.s.sion and comprehension. The old woman could tell marvellous tales and so could beguile the waiting days.

Nella-Rose meant to confide in her and ask her to hide her until Truedale came for her. It was a sudden inspiration and it brought relief.

And that night--it was past midnight and cold as the north land--Burke Lawson came face to face with Jed Martin! Lawson was issuing from his cranny behind the old still and Martin was nosing about alone. He, like a hungry thing of the wilds, had found his foe's trail and meant to bag him unaided and have full vengeance and glory. But so unexpectedly, and alarmingly unconcerned, did Burke materialize in the emptiness that Jed's gun was a minute too late in getting into position. Lawson had the drop on him! They were both very quiet for a moment, then Lawson laughed and did it so boldly that Jed shrank back.

"Coming to make a friendly call, Martin?"

"Something like that!"

"Well, come in, come right in!"

"I reckon you an' me can settle what we've got ter settle in the open!"

Jed stuttered. It seemed a hideous, one-sided settlement.

"As yo' please, Jed, as yo' please. I have a leanin' to the open myself.

I'd just decided ter come out; I was going up ter Jim White's and help him mete out justice, but maybe you and me can save him the trouble."

"You--goin' ter shoot me, Burke--like a--like a--hedgehog?"

"No. I'm goin' ter do unto yo' as yo' would have--" Here Burke laughed--he was enjoying himself hugely.

"What yo' mean?"

"Well, I'm goin' ter put yer in my quarters and tie yer to a chair.

Yo'll be able to wiggle out in time, but it will take yer long enough fur me to do what I'm set about doin'. Yo' torn down traitor!--yo' were 'lowing to put me behind bars, wasn't yer? Yo' meant to let outsiders take the life out o' me--yo' skunk! Well, instead, Jed--I'm goin' on my weddin' trip--me and lil' Nella-Rose. I've seen her; she done promised to have me, when I come out o' hidin'. I'm coming out now! Nella-Rose an' me are goin' to find a bigger place than Pine Cone Settlement. Yo'll wiggle yer blasted hide loose by mornin' maybe; but then her an' me'll be where you-all can't ketch us! Go in there, now, you green lizard; turn about an' get on yer belly like the crawlin' thing yo' are! That's it--go! the way opens up."

Jed was crawling through the bushes, Lawson after him with levelled gun.

"Now, then, take a seat an' make yerself ter home!" Jed got to the chair and turned a green-white face upon his tormentor.

"Yer goin' ter let me starve here?" he asked with shaking voice.

"That depends on yo' power to wiggle. See, I tie you so!" Lawson had pounced upon Jed and had him pinioned. "I ain't goin' ter turn a key on yer like yo' was aimin' ter do on me! It's up to yo' an' yer wigglin'

powers, when yo' get free. The emptier yer belly is, the more room ye'll have fer wiggling. G.o.d bless yer! yer dog-gone hound! Bless yer an'--curse yer! I'm off--with the doney-gal!"

And off he was--he and his cruel but gay laugh.

There was no fire in the cave-like place; no light but the indirect moonlight which slanted through the opening. It was death or wiggle for Jed Martin--so he wiggled!

In the meantime, Burke headed for Jim White's. He meant to play a high game there--to fling himself on White's mercy--appeal to the liking he knew the sheriff had for him--confess his love for Nella-Rose--make his promise for future redemption and then go, scot-free, to claim the girl who had declared he might speak when once again he dared walk upright among his fellows. So Lawson planned and went bravely to the doing of it.

CHAPTER IX

At Was.h.i.+ngton, Truedale telegraphed to Brace Kendall. He felt, as he drew nearer and nearer to the old haunts, like a stranger, and a blind, groping one at that. The noises of the city disturbed and confused him; the crowds irritated him. When he remembered the few weeks that lay between the present and the days when he was part and parcel of this so-called life, he experienced a sensation of having died and been compelled to return to earth to finish some business carelessly overlooked. He meant to rectify the omission as soon as possible and get back to the safety and peace of the hills. How different it all would be with settled ideas, definite work, and Nella-Rose!

While waiting for his train in the Was.h.i.+ngton station he was startled to find that, of a sudden, he was adrift between the Old and the New. If he repudiated the past, the future as sternly repudiated him. He could not reconcile his love and desire with his ident.i.ty. Somehow the man he had left, when he went South, appeared now to have been waiting for him on his return, and while his plans, nicely arranged, seemed feasible the actual readjustment struck him as lurid and impossible. The fact was that his experience of life in Pine Cone made him now shrink from contact with the outside world as one of its loyal natives might have done. It could no more survive in the garish light of a city day than little Nella-Rose could have. That conclusion reached, Truedale was comforted. He could not lure his recent past to this environment, but so long as it lay safe and ready to welcome him when he should return, he could be content. So he relegated it with a resigned sigh, as he might have done the memory of a dear, absent friend, to the time when he could call it forth to some purpose.

It was well he could do this, for with the coming of Brace Kendall upon the scene all romantic sensation was excluded as though by an icy-clear, north wind. Brace was at the New York station--Brace with the armour of familiarity and unbounded friendliness. "Old Top!" he called Truedale, and shook hands with him so vigorously that the last remnant of thought that clung to the distant mountains was freed from the present.

"Well, of all the miracles! Why, Con, I bet you tip the scales at a hundred and sixty. And look at your paw! Why, it's callous and actually h.o.r.n.y! And the colour you've got! Lord, man! you're made over.

"You're to come to your uncle's house, Con. It's rather a shock, but we got you as soon as we could. In the meantime, we've followed directions.

The will has not been read, of course, but there was a letter found in your uncle's desk that commanded--that's the only word to express it, really--Lynda and you and me to come to the old house right after the funeral. We waited to hear from you, Con, but since you could not get here we had to do the best we could. Dr. McPherson took charge."

"I was buried pretty deep in the woods, Ken, and there was a bad hitch in the delivery of the telegram. Such things do not count down where I was. But I'm glad about the old house--glad you and Lynda are there."

"Con!"--and at this Brace became serious--"I think we rather overdid our estimate of your uncle. Since his--his going, we've seen him, Lyn and I, in a new light. He was quite--well, quite a sentimentalist! But see--here we are!"

"The house looks different already!" Conning said, leaning from the cab window.

"Yes, Lyn's had a lot to do, but she's managed to make a home of the place in the short time."

Lynda Kendall had heard the sound of wheels in the quiet street--had set the door of welcome open herself, and now stood in the panel of light with outstretched hands. Like a revelation Truedale seemed to take in the whole picture at once. Behind the girl lay the warm, bright hall that had always been so empty and drear in his boyhood. It was furnished now. Already it had the look of having been lived in for years. There were flowers in a tall jar on the table and a fire on the broad hearth.

And against this background stood the strong, fine form of the young mistress.

"Welcome home, Con!"

Truedale, for a moment, dared not trust his voice. He gripped her hands and felt as if he were emerging from a trance. Then, of a sudden, a deep resentment overpowered him. They could not understand, of course, but every word and tone of appropriation seemed an insult to the reality that he knew existed. He no longer belonged to them, to the life into which they were trying to draw him. To-morrow he would explain; he was eager to do so and end the restraint that sprang into being the moment he touched Lynda's hands.

Lynda watched the tense face confronting her and believed Conning was suffering pangs of remorse and regret. She was filled with pity and sympathy shone in her eyes. She led him to the library and there familiarity greeted him--the room was unchanged. Lynda had respected everything; it was as it always had been except that the long, low chair was empty.

They talked together softly in the quiet place until dinner--talked of indifferent things, realizing that they must keep on the surface.

"This room and his bedchamber, Con," Lynda explained, "are the same.

For the rest? Well, I hope you will like it."

Truedale did like it. He gave an exclamation of delight when later they entered the dining room, which had never been furnished in the past; like much of the house it had been a sad tribute to the emptiness and disappointment that had overcome William Truedale's life. Now it shone with beauty and cheer.