The Forfeit Part 20

"Say, don't feel you've got to say that," he said earnestly. "You mustn't just think I'm asking your applause. These are simple facts which I can't deny. I'd like to feel the sun just rises and sets around my work, but if I did I'd be the same sort of fool as those Pharisee fellers in the Bible. Bud's a bully feller, and I'll owe him more than I can ever hand him back just as long as I live."

Elvine was comparing this man's big generosity with her understanding of most of the men she had ever known. She was thinking, too, of days long since pa.s.sed, and events which even a wide distance of time had not succeeded in rendering mellow.

She sighed. Somehow "Honest Jeff" was hurting her in a way she would never have believed any man could hurt her--now.

"This Bud Tristram's daughter--Nan. She's a pretty creature," Elvine went on, feeling their topic needed changing.

Jeff's smile deepened.

"She's pretty--right through to her soul," came his prompt and earnest response.

Elvine's eyes observed him closely. She laughed in a challenging fas.h.i.+on.

"And she is still her father's daughter?"

Jeff flushed. Her meaning could not be mistaken. His impulse was to speak out of the depth of a strong abiding regard for his friend's "little gal." But he rejected the impulse. Time and his own desires were pressing.

"Oh, I guess she'll marry some fellow some day. Maybe he'll be good enough----"

"And more than likely he won't." Elvine's reply was emphatic. She suddenly sat forward in the deep rocker, and a great earnestness shone in her eyes. "I tell you no woman in this life has a right to be as 'pretty' as you believe her to be," she said with intense bitterness.

"If I had my way every girl would be taught to reason for herself on those things in life which make for her well-being. I'd make her think that way before everything else. To me it is the direst cruelty of Providence that we should be left to become the prey of our own emotions, and at the mercy of any man of whatever quality who can sufficiently stir them. Maybe you do not agree to that. But just think of the awful position that every wretched, physically feeble woman stands in in the life about her. I tell you no girl on her own resources has much better than a dog's chance of getting through life without disaster. Our emotions are the most absurdly foolish type it is possible to think of. I guess we can do things with our normal reason which would shame a whole asylum of crazy folk who can't be let run around free. Oh, I'd like to know her better, to tell her, to warn her. I don't guess I've ever done good in the world, but I'd like to.

If I could save one of my s.e.x from some of the pitfalls lying around, maybe I'd feel I'd been some use."

"Why not know her better? Say, Nan's no end of a good sort. She'd be real glad."

Jeff's invitation sounded lame, even to himself. But he was struggling under an emotion that made words difficult.

Elvine laughed.

"Would she? I wonder."

Then she hurried on lest her observation should be interpreted.

"And you're going to quit our city to-morrow for your wonderful ranch.

I guess the Cattle Week's liable to bore folks who've real work in the world--like you. It's just a week of show, and glitter, and ceremony, all those things which have no real place in the world of things that matter. But there, after all, I wonder what are the things that matter. And do they matter anyway? We have no guide. We're just left to grope around and search for ourselves, and every folk's ideas are different from every other folk's. I'm restless. I sort of feel there's so much to be done in the world--if we only knew how, and what."

The half-bantering manner of the woman did not disguise her earnestness. Jeff shook his head.

"Guess I can't say. Guess none of us can--rightly. But why not come around to the ranch and see things? See if you can worry out an answer. See if you think the work we're doing matters. It certainly does matter to me, to us. But in the world. I don't know. Just now I sort of feel it don't. Just now I'm wondering whether I'll go back there to-morrow. What do you say?"

"I? How can I say?"

Jeff laughed.

"I don't guess there's a thing easier." His eyes were s.h.i.+ning as he took in the girl's dark beauty. "Seems to me I'm beginning to wonder about the things that matter myself. It's been a bully week. The sort of week some folks would write about in their secret diary. Guess I don't keep a secret diary--except somewhere right in here." He tapped his breast. "I don't seem to feel I've ever had such a time, or ever will again, unless----"

"Unless?" Elvine was caught in the mood of the moment. This man was exercising a fascination over her which had nothing to do with the calculations she had laid down for the guidance of her s.e.x.

"Why, unless I add another week to it."

"D'you think you could duplicate it then?"

"That just depends on--you."

Elvine rose from her chair and moved toward the window. Jeff, too, left his chair. He stood tall and straight--waiting.

Her back was turned to him.

"It is not for me to say," she replied without turning.

"Why not?"

"Your work--in the world."

"Can wait. There's always--Bud Tristram."

Suddenly Elvine turned about. Her eyes were smiling, and full of a light which had not lived in them for several years. There was not a shadow of calculation in them now.

She held out her hand in token of dismissal.

"We had some fine rides--together," she said.

"My horses are still here."

"And--the dances. They were--very pleasant."

"Maybe they can be danced--again."

"Good-bye," she said, her beautiful hand lingering in his for a moment.

"For the present," Jeff added with decision.

Then he mechanically glanced at his timepiece. His "farewell" call had lasted over two hours. But even so it had been all too short for him.

CHAPTER XII

THE TEMPERING

Bud was packing in his rooms at Aston's Hotel. It was late at night.

Late as it was, however, he had only left Nan, engaged at a similar occupation, less than half an hour ago. He had sat talking to her, and watching her with eyes of deep concern while, with infinite care, she bestowed those beautiful gowns which mean so much in a woman's life.

His visit to her had not been one of mere companions.h.i.+p. It had been inspired by a sympathy he had no other means of displaying. He had talked to her; by every means in his power he had endeavored to interest her in reminiscence of the week's doings. She listened patiently, almost submissively, for she understood the promptings of his endeavor. But she was too deeply plunged in her own discouragement to display real interest, and it had required every ounce of courage she possessed to prevent herself falling to weeping.

Nor was Bud at fault for a moment. He recognized the trouble lurking in the sweet brown eyes. And with all his might he pretended not to see. So, when his last effort to cheer had proved unavailing, he took his departure under the excuse of his own packing.

He knew. Of course he knew. Had he not watched the progress of events throughout the week? Had he not seen for himself how Jeff's fancy had been caught? And she was very beautiful, this town-bred woman, beautiful with that healthy, downy complexion which Bud found did not fit with his idea of city "raised" women. He almost felt he hated her, yet he knew he had no right to his antagonism. Jeff was unpledged, he was free. No woman had any claim on him. Not even Nan. Poor Nan. He had hoped to give her seven long days of unalloyed delight. He had only given her seven days of bitter disappointment and disillusion.