From the Valley of the Missing Part 28

Stunned by his words, Fledra stared at him. His voice had vibrated with something she had never heard before. His eyes were brilliant and pleading.

"Fledra, can't you--can't you love me?"

As if by strong cords, her tongue was tied.

"Listen to me!" pursued Horace. "I know now I loved you that first night I saw you--that night when you came into the room with Ann's--"

He stopped at the name of his sister--he had forgotten for the moment Flea's confession of the falsehood to her. Then the seeming injustice done Ann turned his mind to the probing he had begun at first for the cause of Flea's grief. Intermingled with this was a whirl of thought as to the things that the girl had accomplished. Her entire submission to Ann and himself, her devotion to Floyd, her desire to master the difficult problems of her new life, all persuaded him that for his happiness he must know the cause of her agitation. Spontaneously he pressed his open hands to her cheeks.

"Fledra, Fledra! Can I believe you?"

The girl lowered her head and nodded emphatically.

"Do you--do you love anyone else--I mean any man?"

His rapidly indrawn breath came forth with almost an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n. Flea's eyes sought his for part of a minute. Then slowly she shook her head, a shadow of a smile broadening her lips. With effort she lifted her arms and whispered:

"I don't love anyone else--that is, no man! Be ye sure that ye love me?"

Like an impetuous boy he gathered her up, caressing her hair, her eyes, her lips. With sudden pa.s.sion he murmured:

"Fledra! Fledra dear!"

"I do love ye!" she whispered. "Oh, I do love ye every bit of the day, and every bit of the night, jest like I did when you came to the settlement and I saw ye on the sh.o.r.e!"

Hitherto she had not told him that she had seen him in Ithaca, and he did not understand her allusion to a former meeting. To his astonished look, she replied by a question.

"Don't ye remember one day you came to the settlement and asked the way to Glenwood?"

Horace conjured up a vision of a child of whom he had asked his road, and remembered, in a flas.h.i.+ng glance at the girl in his arms, that he had inwardly commented upon the sad young face. He had noted, too, the unusual shade in her eyes, and now he wondered vaguely that he had not loved her then.

"I remember--of course I remember! Oh, I want you to say again that you love me, little dearest, that you love me very much!" His lips roved in sweet freedom over her face as he continued, "You're so young, so very young, to have a sweetheart; but if you could only begin to love me--in a few years we could be married, couldn't we?"

Flea's body grew tense with tenderness. She had never heard such beautiful words; they meant that her Prince loved her as Ann loved Everett, as good men loved their wives and good wives loved their husbands. Instead of answering, she lifted a pale face intensified by womanly pa.s.sion.

"Will ye kiss me?" she breathed. "Kiss me again on my hair, and on my eyes, and on my lips, because--because I love ye so!"

His strong avowal had opened a deep spring in her heart which overflowed in tears. The taut arms pressed him tightly. The words were sobbed out from a tightened young throat. The very pa.s.sion in her, that abandonment which comes from the untutored, stirred all that was primeval in him, all the desperate longing in a soul newly born. His mouth covered hers again and again; it sought her closed white lids, her rounded throat, and again lingered upon her lips. After a few moments he sat down and drew her into his arms.

"Little love, my heart has never beaten for another woman--only for you, always for you! Fledra, open your eyes quick!"

The brown-flecked eyes flashed into his. Horace bent his head low and searched them silently for some seconds.

"I must be sure, Dear, that you love me. Are you very sure?"

"Yes, yes! That's why I felt so bad tonight, when I told ye about lying to Sister Ann." There was entreaty in her glance, and her figure trembled in his arms. Horace started slightly. He had again forgotten her admission.

"But you will tell me all about it now, won't you, Fledra? Then we can tell Ann and your brother about our love."

Flea stood up; but Horace still kept his arm about her. Her thoughts flew to Everett. How unfaithful he had been! Could she confide in Horace, now that she was absolutely his? No; for he would punish Everett even the more to the detriment of Ann. The thought set her teeth hard.

Had she been Ann, and Horace been Everett, had the man she loved been unfaithful to the point of stealing kisses from another--She took a long breath.

But she was not Sister Ann, neither was Horace, Everett. In a twinkling everything that Horace had been to her since the first day in Ithaca flooded her heart with happiness. Her dreamy imagination, which had enshrined him king of her life, worked with a new desire that nothing should interfere with the love that he had showered upon her. He had said, "Do you love me, Dearest?"

The anxious question had thrilled her vibrant being to silence, had stilled her eager tongue with the magnitude of its pa.s.sion. Horace was pleading with his eyes, imploring her to answer him. Suddenly he burst out:

"You will tell me, Dear, why you were untruthful to my sister?"

Fledra pondered for a moment.

"Something happened," she began, "and Sister Ann came in--I was mad--"

"Were you angry at what happened?"

"Yes."

Horace led her on.

"And did Floyd know what had happened?"

"No."

"And then?" he demanded almost sharply.

"And then Sister Ann asked me what was the matter, and I lied, and said I was mad at Floyd."

Horace still held her. This sweet possession and desire of her filled him with serious decision. He deliberated an instant on her confession.

"Now you've told me that much," said he, "I want to know what happened."

"I can't tell ye," she said slowly, "I can't, and ye said that ye wouldn't tell anybody about it."

Horace's arms loosened. Surely she could have no good reason for keeping anything from him! Suddenly he grasped her tightly to him and kissed her again and again.

"Of course you'll tell me, of course you will! Tell me all about it. I won't have this thing between us! I can't, I can't! I love you!"

It maddened her to hear him chide her thus, filled as she was with all the primeval qualities of the native woman to feel the strength of her man. How his pleading touched her, how gravely his dear face expressed an anxiety that she herself was unable to banis.h.!.+ Even should he send her from him, she could not be false to Ann. To this decision the strong, untutored mind clung, and again she refused him.

"No, I'm not goin' to tell you. Mebbe some day I will; but not now."

She heard him take a deep breath which tore savagely at all the best within her. It wrestled with her affection for Miss Sh.e.l.lington, for her duty to Floyd's friend. Not daring to glance up, she still stood in silence. Horace's voice shocked her with the sternness of it.

"You've got to tell me! I command you! Fledra, you must!" Then, tilting her chin upward, he continued reproachfully, "If you're going to keep vital things from me, you can't be my wife!"

The resistance against telling him grew faint in her heart in its battle for desirable things.

"Ye mean," she asked, with quick intaking of breath, "that I can't be your woman if I don't tell you?"