Ben Blair Part 45

"If that is the mark of a gentleman, I am not one," he answered.

The mother's face flamed. Like Scotty, her brain moved slowly, and on the spur of the moment inadequate insult alone answered her call.

"I might have expected such a remark from a cowman!" she burst forth.

Instantly Florence was upon her feet; but Ben Blair gave no indication that he had heard. His arms still folded, he took two steps nearer the girl, then stopped.

"Florence," he said steadily, "I have just seen your father. We three--he, you, and I--are going back home, back to the prairies. Our train leaves at eleven o'clock. The carriage will be here in half an hour. You have plenty of time if you hurry."

Again there was silence. Once more it was the mother who spoke first.

"You must be mad, both of you!" she cried. "Florence is to be married in three days, and it would take two to go each way. You must be mad!"

It was the girl's turn to grow pale. She began to understand.

"You say you and papa evolved this programme?" she said sarcastically.

"What part, pray, did he take?"

Blair was as impa.s.sive as before.

"I suggested it, and your father acquiesced."

"And the third party, myself--" The girl's eyes were very bright.

"I undertook the task of having you ready when the carriage comes."

One of Florence's brown hands grasped the back of the chair before her.

"I trust you did not underestimate the difficulty," she commented ironically. "Otherwise you might be disappointed."

Ben said nothing. He did not even stir.

Another group of seconds were gathered into the past. The inactivity tugged at the girl's nerves.

"By the way," she asked, "where are we going to stay when we arrive, and for how long?"

"You are to be my guests," answered Blair. "As to the length of time, nothing has been arranged."

Florence made one more effort to consider the affair lightly.

"You speak with a good deal of a.s.surance," she commented. "Did it never occur to you that at this particular time I might decide not to go?"

Ben returned her look.

"No," he said.

Beneath the trim brown figure one foot was nervously tapping the floor.

"In other words, you expect to take me against my will,--by physical force?"

"No." Ben again spoke deliberately. "You will come of your own choice."

"And leave Mr. Sidwell?"

"Yes."

"Without an explanation?"

"None will be necessary, I think. The fact itself will be enough."

"And never--marry him?"

"And never marry him."

"You think he would not follow?"

"I know he would not!"

There was a pause in the swift pa.s.sage of words. The girl's breath was coming with difficulty. The spell of this indomitable rancher was settling upon her.

"You really imagine I will do such an unheard-of thing?" she asked slowly.

"I imagine nothing," he answered quickly. "I know."

It was the crisis, and into it Mollie intruded with clumsy tread.

"Florence," she urged, "Florence, don't listen to him any longer. He must be intoxicated. Come with me!" and she started to drag the girl away.

Without a word, Ben Blair walked across to the door leading into the room beyond, and stood with his hand on the k.n.o.b.

"Mrs. Baker," he said slowly, "I thought I would not speak an unkind word to-day, no matter what was said to me; but you have offended too often." His glance took in the indolently shapeless figure from head to toe, and back again until he met her eye to eye. "You are the personification of cowardice, of selfishness and sn.o.bbery, that makes one despise his kind. For mere personal vanity you would sacrifice your own daughter--your own flesh and blood. Probably we shall never meet again; but if we should, do not dare to speak to me. Do not speak to me now!" He swung open the door, and indicated the pa.s.sage with a nod of his head. "Go," he said, "and if you are a Christian, pray for a better heart--for forgiveness!"

The woman hesitated; her lips moved, but she was dumb. She wanted to refuse, but the irresistible power in those relentless blue eyes compelled her to obey. Without a word she left the room and closed the door behind her.

Ben Blair came back. The girl had not moved.

"Florence," he said, "there are but twenty minutes left. I ask you again to get ready."

The girl's color rose anew; her blood flowed tumultuously, until she could feel the beating of the pulses at her wrists.

"Ben Blair," she challenged, "you are trying to prevent my marrying another man! Is it not so?"

The rancher folded his arms again.

"I am preventing it," he said.

Florence's brown eyes blazed. She clasped her hands together until the fingers were white.

"You admit it, then!" she cried, looking at her companion steadily, a world of scorn in her face. "I never thought such a thing possible--that you would let your jealousy get the better of you like this!" She paused, and hurled the taunt she knew would hurt him most. "You are the last person on earth I would have selected to become a dog in the manger!"