Rose O'Paradise Part 78

"Yes!"

"Where is the one you wrote? I don't want this."

A glint of understanding flashed upon him.

"Where is the other?" he demanded once more.

"I haven't written it and I don't intend to."

For one single instant Morse's mind swept over the sacrifices she had made. She had done every single thing he had told her, not for her sake but for others. He shuddered when he thought of the trouble he would have had with her had not the blind boy been within his power also.

"Get the paper and write it now," he said ominously.

"I will not!"

She meant the words, a righteous indignation flaming her face, making her eyes s.h.i.+ne no longer blue, but opal color. Morse wondered dully if she could and would stand out against what he would be forced to do.

"I see," he began s.h.i.+ftily. "I have to teach you a lesson every time I come here, eh?"

"This time you won't," she flashed at him.

"This time I will," he taunted.

"I'd rather be dead," she faltered. "I'd rather be dead than write it."

"Perhaps! But would you rather have----" he made a backward jerk of his thumb toward the other room--"him dead?"

Jinnie's eyes misted in agony, but Theodore was still near her in spirit, and she remembered the dear hours they had spent together and how much she loved him. A sudden swift pa.s.sion shook her as his kisses lived warm again upon her face. That letter she would not write. But as she made this decision for the hundredth time that day, Morse's words recurred to her. Would she rather have Bobbie dead? Yes, if she were dead too. But life was so hard to part with! She was so strong.

How many times she had prayed of late to die! But every morning found her woefully and more miserably alive than the one before.

"I understand you'd rather, then," drawled Morse.

Jinnie shook her head.

"I don't know what I'd rather have, only I can't write the letter."

She made one rapid step toward him--"I know," she went on feverishly, "I won't ever see Theodore again----"

Morse's emphatic nod broke off her words, but she went on courageously. "I don't expect to, but I love him. Can't you see that?"

"Quite evident," replied the man.

"Why hurt me more than necessary then?" she demanded.

"This is part of Miss Merri----"

"She loves him too?" cried Jinnie, staggering back.

"Yes, and he--well, you saw his letter yesterday."

"Yes, I saw it," breathed Jinnie with swift coming breath.

"Miss Merriweather thinks Theodore might still feel his obligations to you unless you----"

"Does she know he asked me to marry him?" In spite of her agony, she thrilled in memory.

"Yes, and he told me, too. But Miss Merriweather intends to marry him herself, and all she wants is to wipe thoughts of you from his mind."

A powerful argument swept from her lips.

"It wouldn't make any difference to him about me if he loved her."

"You're an a.n.a.lytical young miss," said Morse with one of his disagreeable smiles.

"You've taught me to be," she retorted, blazing. "Now listen! You asked me if I'd rather have Bobbie die than write the letter, didn't you?"

He nodded.

"Then I say 'yes'." She caught her breath. "We'll both die."

"Well, by G.o.d, you're a cool one! Theodore's more lucky than I thought. So that's the way you love him?"

She grew more inexplicable with each pa.s.sing day.

"Poor Theodore!" murmured Morse, to break the tense silence.

"I thought it all out this morning," explained Jinnie. "Bobbie's awfully ill, terribly. He can't live long anyway, and I----" A terrific sob shook her as a raging gale rends a slender flower.

Jinnie controlled her weeping that the blind child in the other room might not hear. Never had Jordan been so sorely tempted to do a good deed. Good deeds were not habitual to him, but at that moment a desire possessed him to take her in his arms, to soothe her, to restore her to Peggy and give her back to Theodore. But the murder scene in the cobbler's shop came back with strong renewed vigor. He had gone too far, and he must have money. Molly held him in her power, and as he thought of her tightly set lips, the danger signal she had tossed at him more times than once, he crushed dead his better feeling.

"Your plan won't work," he said slowly. "Write the letter--I am in a hurry."

"I will not," she refused him once more.

Morse walked to the door, and she allowed him to open it. Then with clenched hands she tottered after him. He was going to kill Bobbie and herself. Somehow within her tortured being she was glad. Morse waited and looked back, asking her a question silently.

She made no response, however, but cast her eyes upon the blind boy sitting dejectedly upon the floor, one arm around Happy Pete.

"Jinnie," said Bobbie, rolling his eyes, "I was afraid you were goin'

to stay in there all day."

"Come here, boy," ordered Morse. "Get up and come here."

Bobbie turned his delicate, serious face in the direction of the voice.

"I don't want to," he gulped, shaking his head. "I don't like you, Mister Black Man. I can't get up anyway, my heart hurts too much!"

Still the girl stood with the vision of Theodore King before her.

"I won't write it, I won't," she droned to herself insistently.