SWIFT DECLARES HIS PASSION.
“Oh, I’ll bring you down off your high horse, confound you!” muttered
Roy Swift, as he followed Walter Burrage from that room. “If your sister
does not lower her high head in short order, I’ll make her do it—or land
you behind bars!”
Leaving the hotel, he made his way straight toward the house of Alvin
Brander, on the outskirts of the village. There was a brass knocker on
the door of the old-fashioned house, and Swift pounded it vigorously. A
servant appeared, and Swift pushed right into the hall, saying:
“Tell Miss Burrage that a friend wishes to see her.”
“Will you give me your name?”
“Frank Merriwell.”
He was shown into the stiff old parlor, with its haircloth furniture,
picture-album, case of wax flowers, and chromos on the walls. There he
seated himself comfortably and waited.
He was not compelled to wait long. On the stair there was a flying
footfall and Inza appeared, her face showing her pleasure, while she
exclaimed:
“Oh, Frank, I’m so glad you————”
Then, as he rose, she stopped short and stared at him, a look of
surprise and consternation on her handsome face.
“Mr. Swift!” she cried, in disappointment.
“Yes,” he laughed. “Quite a joke on you, wasn’t it? Ha, ha, ha!”
She drew herself up proudly, her eyes flashing.
“A joke, sir?”
“Why, yes; you thought you were coming down to see Merriwell. Ha, ha!
That was a joke!”
“I must say you have very peculiar ideas of a joke! You gave a false
name.”
“Perhaps the servant misunderstood me.”
“No; you gave your name as Frank Merriwell. You knew I was engaged
caring for my father, and might not find time to come down. It was a
trick!”
“But you could find time to come down for Merriwell?”
“He is a friend—he saved my life and the life of my father yesterday.”
“Which any one else might have done in his place.”
“What did you do?”
“Unfortunately, I was separated from you by the accident, and I could
not find you.”
“What did you do when you knew my father was back there in that burning
wreckage—when I appealed to somebody to save him?”
“I did not know where to find him.”
“Nor did Mr. Merriwell.”
“I think he did know, else he would not have succeeded so finely.”
“He did not!”
“He has told you that to make the act seem all the braver and grander in
your eyes. He knows how to play his cards.”
Her lips curled.
“I’ll not listen to such talk about him! I must return to my father.”
“Wait!”
“I cannot stop, sir. You must excuse me.”
She was going.
“Miss Burrage, your brother is in great peril.”
That stopped her.
“Walter!” she exclaimed. “He is in danger?”
“Yes.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just what I say.”
Now she came back a few steps, and he was satisfied.
“What is the danger?” she haltingly asked.
“The danger is that he will be arrested. You know for what. And in case
he is arrested he will be tried and condemned. A term of ten or twenty
years must follow.”
She had straightened up to hear these words. For a moment she did not
speak, and then, in a tone that indicated an effort to self-control, she
asked:
“Has he been recognized here in Fardale?”
“Not yet; but one word from any one who knows him will set the law on
his track.”
“From any one who knows him? Who is there who would betray him? Is it
possible you mean that you——”
He stepped toward her quickly.
“I mean, Miss Burrage, that I love you!” he declared boldly. “Wait—you
must listen! Understanding your brother’s peril, you will not refuse to
listen!”
She put up a hand to check his advance.
“Mr. Swift,” she panted, “is it possible you are threatening me?”
“Not that! But I am desperately in love with you, Inza, and I was
determined to find a way to make you listen to me.”
“Brave man!”
Her words and her look cut him deeply, but he would not be checked.
“I have loved you all the years since I left Fardale. In all my
wanderings I have never found another like you, Inza!”
“Call me Miss Burrage, if you please, sir!”
“You can’t hold me in check that way! You do not know Roy Swift, else
you would not try. I have seen you again, and I find you far handsomer
than you were in the old days. My heart is torn with love, and I have
sworn that you shall be mine!”
He was shaking with the intensity of his feelings. In his bronzed cheeks
there was a wild flush, while his eyes gleamed with a burning light.
Inza was alarmed, but she did not show it.
“You had better withdraw your oath,” she calmly said; “for I shall never
be yours. You have fancied something that is quite impossible.”
“You must—you shall!” he cried. “I will not give you up to Frank
Merriwell! He shall not have you! Inza, when my grandfather dies I shall
be a rich man. I did not have to enter the army. I did that of my own
accord. I shall be able to give you anything you want if you will marry
me.”
“Mr. Swift, I would not marry you if you had all the wealth of
Rockefeller!”
“I swear you shall never marry him! I am desperate, Inza! Think of your
brother! With a word, I can send him to prison!”
“And prove yourself a dastard!”
“A man in love will do anything to win the object of his passions. If
you would save your brother, you must marry me!”
“You coward!”
She took a step toward him, her hands clenched, and hissed the words
through her white teeth. He actually fell back a step before her intense
scorn and contempt.
“Then you are willing to see him branded as a criminal—willing to see
him suffer? His arrest will be the death-blow of your old father! Think
of that! Are you not willing to sacrifice yourself to save both your
brother and your father? Have you not that much love for them?”
“You coward!” she repeated, withering scorn in her dark eyes. “If my
brother were here now——”
“But he is not! Nor is Frank Merriwell here! You do not know the passion
you have awakened in the heart of Roy Swift! If Merriwell were out of
the way———— By Heaven! he may be out of the way!”
“Would you——”
“Let him keep away from me! I go armed, and I will not hold myself
responsible! If Merriwell were here now——”
“He is!”
Frank himself strode into the room. He had come to the house with young
Jim Brander, who had let him in without ringing. In the hall Merry had
heard what was passing in the parlor, and there was a terrible look on
his face as he strode toward the soldier.
Swift leaped backward, his right hand jerking out a pistol. With a
spring, Frank was on him, grasped his wrist and wrenched the weapon from
his hand.
“I think you have been drinking this morning, sir,” he cried grimly, as
he held the other helpless and turned toward the door. “Jim, fling open
the front door.”
Jim Brander, who had been peering into the room, hastened to obey. Merry
quickly carried the resisting fellow from the parlor, saying as he did
so:
“You have made some very nasty threats, Swift, but you had better think
twice before you attempt to carry any of them out. And if you annoy Miss
Burrage again, I’ll thrash you till you’ll need a doctor for a week.”
Then, having reached the front door, he proceeded to kick Roy Swift down
the steps.
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