The Prodigal Judge Part 23

In the midst of her activities Betty occasionally found time to think of Bruce Carrington. She was sure she did not wish to see him again! But when three weeks had pa.s.sed she began to feel incensed that he had not appeared. She thought of him with hot cheeks and a quickening beat of the heart. It was anger. Naturally she was very indignant, as she had every right to be! He was the first man who had dared--!

Then one day when she had decided for ever to banish all memory of him from her mind, and never, under any circ.u.mstances, to think of him again, he presented himself at Belle Plain.

She was in her room just putting the finis.h.i.+ng touches to an especially satisfying toilet when her maid tapped on the door and told her there was a gentleman in the parlor who wished to see her.

"Is it Mr. Norton?" asked Betty.

"No, Miss--he didn't give no name, Miss."

When Betty entered the parlor a moment later she saw her caller standing with his back turned toward her as he gazed from one of the windows, but she instantly recognized those broad shoulders, and the fine poise of the shapely head that surmounted them.

"Oh, Mr. Carrington--" and Betty stopped short, while her face grew rather pale and then crimsoned. Then she advanced quite boldly and held out a frigid hand, which he took carefully. "I didn't know--so you are alive--you disappeared so suddenly that night--"

"Yes, I'm alive," he said, and then with a smile. "But I fear before you get through with me we'll both wish I were not, Betty."

"Don't call me Betty."

"Who was that man who met you at New Madrid? He can't have you, whoever he is!" His eyes dwelt on her tenderly, and the remembered spell of her fresh youthful beauty deepened itself for him.

"Perhaps he doesn't want me--"

"Yes, he does. That was plain as day."

Betty surveyed him from under her lashes. What could she do with this man? Nothing affected him. He seemed to have crossed some intangible barrier and to stand closer to her than any other man had ever stood.

"Do you still hate me, Betty--Miss Malroy--is there anything I can say or do that will make you forgive me?" He looked at her penitently.

But Betty hardened her heart against him and prepared to keep him in place. Remembering that he was still holding her hand, she recovered it.

"Will you sit down?" she indicated a chair. He seated himself and Betty put a safe distance between them. "Are you staying in the neighborhood, Mr. Carrington?" she asked, rather unkindly. How did he dare come here when she had forgotten him and her annoyance? And now the sight of him brought back memories of that disagreeable night on that horrid boat--he had deceived her about that boat, too--she would never forgive him for that--she had trusted him and he had clearly shown that he was not to be trusted; and Betty closed her pretty mouth until it was a thin red line and looked away that she might not see his hateful face.

"No, I'm not staying in the neighborhood. When I left you, I made up my mind I'd wait at New Madrid until I could come on down here and say I was sorry."

"And it's taken you all this time?"

Carrington regarded her seriously.

"I reckon I must have come for more time, Betty--Miss Malroy." In spite of herself, Betty glowed under the caressing humor of his tone.

"Really--you must have chosen poorly then when you selected New Madrid.

It couldn't have been a good place for your purpose."

"I think if I could have made up my mind to stay there long enough, it would have answered," said Carrington. "But when a down-river boat tied up 'there yesterday it was more than I could stand. You 'see there's danger in a town like New Madrid of getting too sorry. I thought we'd better discuss this point--"

"Mayn't I show you Belle Plain?" asked Betty quickly.

But Carrington shook his head.

"I don't care anything about that," he said. "I didn't come here to see Belle Plain."

"You certainly are candid," said Betty.

"I intend to be honest with you always."

"Dear me--but I don't know that I shall particularly like it. Do you think it was quite fair to select the boat you did, or was your resolution to be always honest formed later?" demanded Betty severely.

He looked at her with great sweetness of expression.

"I didn't advise that boat for speed, only for safety. Betty, doesn't it mean anything to you that I love you? I admit that I wish it had been twice as slow!" he added reflectively, as an afterthought. He looked at her steadily, and Betty's dark lashes drooped as the color mounted to her face.

"I don't," she said quickly. She rose from her chair, and Carrington followed her example with a lithe movement that bespoke muscles in good training. She led the way through the wide hall and out to the porch.

"Now I am going to show you all over the place," she announced resolutely. She stood on the top step, looking off into the flaming west where the sun rode low in the heavens. "Isn't it lovely, Mr.

Carrington, isn't it beautiful?"

"Very beautiful!" Carrington's glance was fixed on her face.

"If you don't care to see Belle Plain," began Betty, rather indignantly.

"No, I don't, Betty. This is enough for me. I'll come for that some other time if you'll be good enough to let me?"

"Then you expect to remain in the neighborhood?"

"I've given up the river, and I'm going to get hold of some land--"

"Land?" said Betty, with a rising inflection.

"Yes, land."

"I thought you were a river-man?"

"I'm a river-man no longer. I am going to be a planter now. But I'll tell you why, and all about it some other day." Then he held out his hand. "Goodby," he added.

"Are you going--good-by, Mr. Carrington," and Betty's fingers tingled with his masterful clasp long after he had gone.

Carrington sauntered slowly down the path to the highroad.

"She didn't ask me to come back--an oversight," he told himself cheerfully.

Just beyond the gates he met that same young fellow he had seen at New Madrid. Norton nodded good-naturedly as he pa.s.sed, and Carrington, glancing back, saw that he turned in at Belle Plain. He shrugged his shoulders, and went on his way not rejoicing.

CHAPTER XV. THE SHOOTING-MATCH AT BOGGS'

The judge's faith in the reasonableness of mankind having received a staggering blow, there began a somewhat furtive existence for himself, for Solomon Mahaffy, and for the boy. They kept to little frequented byways, and usually it was the early hours of morning, or the cool of late afternoons when they took the road.

The heat of silent middays found them lounging beside shady pools, where the ripple of fretted waters filled the pauses in their talk. It was then that the judge and Mahaffy exchanged views on literature and politics, on religion and politics, on the public debt and politics, on ca.n.a.ls and national roads and more politics. They could and did honestly differ at great length and with unflagging energy on these vital topics, especially politics, for they were as far apart mentally as they were close together morally.