JERNYNGHAM BREAKS DOWN
Colston and his party were leaving the hotel, with Jernyngham and
Gertrude a few paces in front of them. A big lamp hung beneath the
veranda, and the light from the windows streamed out on the snow. While
Colston held the door open for his wife and Muriel to pass through a man
came hurriedly along the sidewalk and Colston started.
"Be quick!" he cried to Muriel. "It's Prescott!"
Letting the door swing to, he moved hastily forward, and then stopped,
seeing that he was too late to prevent the meeting. Jernyngham had
recognized the newcomer.
"Mr. Prescott," the old man cried, "a word with you!"
Prescott stopped with a troubled face a few yards away.
"If you insist, I'm at your service."
Colston drew nearer. Jernyngham's tone had alarmed him, and it's ominous
harshness was more marked when he resumed:
"For the last time, I ask you, where is my son?"
"I wish I knew," said Prescott quietly. "I believe he's in British
Columbia, but it's a big province and I lost trace of him there."
"It's a lie!" Jernyngham cried, hoarse with fury. "Your tricks won't
serve you; I'll have the truth!"
"Be calm, Mr. Jernyngham," Colston begged, touching his arm. "We'll have
a crowd here in a few moments. Come back into the hotel."
He was violently pushed away. Jernyngham's eyes glittered, his face was
grimly set; it was obvious that his self-control had deserted him. Seeing
that he could not be reasoned with, Colston left him alone and waited,
ready to interfere if necessary. The man, he thought, was in a dangerous
mood; the situation was liable to have alarming developments.
"Why don't you speak?" Jernyngham stormed at Prescott. "You shall not
leave the spot until we hear your confession!"
Prescott stood still, looking at him steadily, with pity in his face. He
made a striking figure in the glare of light, finely posed, with no sign
of shrinking. The others had fixed their eyes on him, and did not notice
Muriel move quietly through the shadow of the wooden pillars.
"I have nothing to confess," he said.
Jernyngham's fur coat was open and his hand dropped quickly to a pocket.
As he brought it out Colston sprang forward, a moment too late; but
Muriel was before him, her hand on the man's arm. There was a flash, a
sharp report, and blue smoke curled up toward the veranda, but Prescott
stood still, untouched.
"Be quick!" screamed Muriel. "He's trying to fire again!"
There was no time to be particular. Colston seized the elder man,
dragging him backward several paces before he wrenched the pistol from
him. Then he paused, breathless, looking about in a half-dazed fashion.
Everything had happened with startling suddenness, and the scene under
the veranda was an impressive one. His wife clutched one of the pillars
as if unnerved. Gertrude leaned against the sidewalk rail, her face tense
with horror, and Jernyngham stood with a slackness of carriage which
suggested that power of thought and physical force had suddenly left him.
"Jack, are you hurt?" cried Muriel clinging to Prescott.
The tension was relieved by the appearance of the commissioned officer,
who sprang out of the hotel with the constable close behind him.
"Shut the door and keep them in!" he ordered.
The constable obeyed, but his efforts were wasted, for men were already
hurrying out through the separate entrance to the bar and from an
adjoining store. Others ran out from the houses, and the street was
rapidly filling with an eager crowd.
"Stand back there!" called the officer sharply. Then he turned to the
group under the veranda. "Now what's this? I heard a shot!"
"Yes," said Colston, pulling himself together, though his manner was
confused; "there was one. I don't know how it happened--it was a surprise
to us all. I don't think the pistol's safe; it goes off too easily.
However, the most important thing is that nobody is hurt."
"That's fortunate. I'll take the weapon from you," replied the officer
dryly.
When Colston had given it to him, as if glad to be rid of it, the officer
noted the positions and attitudes of the others before he turned to
Prescott.
"Can you tell me anything?" he asked.
"I don't think so," Prescott answered. "Of course, I saw the flash, but
the bullet didn't come anywhere near me."
Then Gertrude's nerve gave way. All that had happened was her work; she
had, when her father was wavering and questioning the justice of his
suspicions, driven them back more firmly into his mind, and as a result
of this he had come near to killing an innocent man. Overwhelmed by the
thought, she swayed unsteadily and fell back against the rails.
"Miss Jernyngham is fainting!" Mrs. Colston cried, hurrying toward her.
"Bring her in!" said the officer; and when this was done, with Colston's
assistance, he called to the constable:
"Stand at the door; keep everybody out!"
The big lobby was cleared, and the officer gravely watched the way the
actors of the scene arranged themselves. Prescott stood well apart from
the others with Muriel at his side. She was flushed and overstrung, but
her pose and expression suggested that she was defying the rest, and she
cast a hard, unsympathetic glance at Gertrude, who sat limply, with
clenched hands. Colston, looking embarrassed and unhappy, sat near his
wife, who had preserved some composure. Jernyngham leaned against the
counter, dejected and apparently half dazed.
"Before you go any farther, I'd better tell you that I fired the shot,"
he said brokenly.
"When I came out, the pistol was in Mr. Colston's hand," the officer
pointed out in a meaning tone.
"That's true," Colston broke in. "I took it from him, for fear of an
accident. Mr. Jernyngham was in a very nervous and excited state. He has,
of course, been bearing a heavy strain, and I imagine you must have said
something that rather upset his balance."
"I was perfectly sensible!" Jernyngham harshly interrupted him. "I found
I could get no assistance from the police; it looked as if my son's death
must go unavenged!"
Colston raised his hand to check him. Jernyngham could not be allowed to
explain his action, as he seemed bent on doing.
"No! no!" he said soothingly, "you mustn't think of it! Please let me
speak." He addressed the officer. "You can see the nervous state Mr.
Jernyngham is in--very natural, of course, but I think it should appeal
to your consideration."
The officer reflected. He had been brought up in the old country, and
could sympathize with the people before him; they deserved pity, and he
had no wish to humiliate them. Moreover, Miss Hurst, whom he admired,
seemed to be involved. These reasons could not be allowed to carry much
weight, but there were others. It was obvious that Jernyngham was hardly
responsible for his actions; the man's worn and haggard face showed that
he had been severely tried. Justice would not be served by probing the
matter too deeply, and Colston's attitude indicated that this would be
difficult.
"As you seem to be the one who had the narrowest escape, Mr. Prescott,
have you any complaint to make?" he said.
"None whatever. I'm sorry the thing has made so much stir."
"It was my duty to investigate it. But I think that a charge of
unlawfully carrying dangerous weapons, which is punishable by a fine,
will meet the case." He turned to the trooper. "You will attend to the
matter in due course, Constable Slade."
Then he bowed to the company and went out, leaving Colston to deal with
the situation with the assistance of his wife, who thought it desirable
to break up the party as soon as possible.
"The teams must be ready, and it's too cold to keep them standing," she
remarked.
"They're outside," said Colston. "We'll be mobbed by an inquisitive
crowd, if we don't get off at once. Gertrude, bring your father."
Gertrude led Jernyngham to the door, and Colston turned back to Prescott.
"It was very regretable," he said. "We are grateful for your
forbearance."
Then his wife joined him, calling to Muriel.
"Be quick! The people haven't gone away; the street's full!"
Muriel, disregarding her, looked at Prescott, who had spoken to nobody
except the officer. His face was troubled, but he made no attempt to
detain her.
"I believe you saved my life," he said. "I can't thank you now. May I
call to-morrow?"
"We should be glad to see you," Mrs. Colston broke in hurriedly; "but,
with Mr. Jernyngham at the homestead, wouldn't it be embarrassing?
Muriel, we really can't wait."
The girl smiled at Prescott.
"Yes," she said quietly, "come when you wish."
Then her sister, knowing that she was beaten, drew her firmly away.
They went out and Prescott sat down, feeling that he had done right and
yet half ashamed of his reserve, for he had seen that Muriel had expected
him to claim her and was ready to acknowledge him before her friends.
This, however, was when she was overstrung and under the influence of
strong excitement; the sacrifice she did not shrink from making was a
heavy one, and she must have an opportunity for considering it calmly. He
was not long left undisturbed, for men flocked in, anxious for an account
of the affair, but he put them off with evasive answers and, making his
escape, hurried to the livery-stable where he hired a team.
The next afternoon he drove to Leslie's in a quietly exultant mood. His
long fight was over; nature had beaten him, and he was glad to yield,
though he had not done so under sudden stress of passion. During his
search for Jernyngham and afterward sitting by his stove on bitter
nights, he had come to see that if the girl he desired loved him, no
merely prudential reasons ought to separate them. He had feared to drag
her down, to rob her of things she valued, but he now saw that she might,
after all, hold them of little account. He was, for his station, a
prosperous man; his wife need suffer no real deprivation; he had a firm
belief in the future of his adopted country, and knew that in a little
while all the amenities of civilized life could be enjoyed in it.
Wandle's trial would free him of suspicion; when he had stood facing
Jernyngham, Muriel had revealed her love for him, and since it could not
be doubted, he need not hesitate. It was her right to choose whether she
would marry him. Only she must clearly realize all that this would imply.
He had expected some opposition from Mrs. Colston, but, when it was
inevitable, she could gracefully bear defeat. Moreover, she had never
agreed with Jernyngham's suspicions of Prescott, and in some respects he
impressed her favorably. There was no reserve in her greeting when he
reached the homestead.
"The less that is said about last night, the better, but I can't pass
over it without expressing our gratitude for the position you took," she
said. "Harry has driven Jernyngham out in the sleigh--he has been in a
curious limp state all morning--and Gertrude has not yet got over the
shock."
"It must have been very trying for Miss Jernyngham."
"No doubt." There was not much pity in Mrs. Colston's voice, for she
could guess how matters stood. "However, I am disengaged and I believe
Muriel will be here directly."
Prescott followed her into a room and made an effort to talk to her until
she rose and went out as Muriel entered. The girl, to his surprise, was
dressed in furs, and he felt his heart beat when she looked at him with a
shy smile.
"I have been expecting you," she said, giving him her hand.
"I wonder," he asked gravely, "whether you can guess why I have come?"
"Yes," she answered in a steady voice; "I think I can. But we'll go out,
Jack."
He followed her, puzzled, but not questioning her wish, and they walked
silently down the beaten trail that stretched away, a streak of grayish
blue, across the glittering snow. Brilliant sunshine streamed down on
them and the nipping air was wonderfully clear. When they passed a birch
bluff that hid them from the house; Prescott stopped.
"Muriel," he said, "I think you know that I love you."
There was a warm color in her face, but for a moment she met his eyes
squarely.
"Yes; I knew it some time ago, though perhaps I should have shrunk from
confessing that so frankly, if it hadn't been for last night. But why
were you afraid of telling me, Jack?"
He read surrender in her face and yielding pose, and with a strange
humility that tempered the wild thrill of delight he placed his arm about
her. Then, as she crept closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder,
every feeling was lost in a delirious sense of triumph. It was brief, for
he remembered how he was handicapped, and he held her from him, looking
gravely down at her.
"Dear, there is something to be said."
"Yes," she rejoined with tender mockery; "you either took a great deal
for granted or there was one important thing you were willing to leave in
doubt. Now take my hands and hold them fast. You know I have suffered
something--fears and anxieties because of you--I want to feel safe."
He did as she bade him and she looked up.
"Now listen, Jack dear. All that I have to give, my love, my closest
trust, is yours, and because you said I saved your life, that belongs to
me. I think it's all that matters."
He was silent for a few moments, overwhelmed by a sense of his
responsibility.
"Still," he urged, "you must understand what you are risking. I should
have told you first."
Muriel released her hands, and her glance was grave.
"Yes; you had better continue, Jack. I suppose we must speak of these
things now, and then forget them forever."
"You know what Jernyngham believed of me. I could not marry you with such
a stain on my name; but it will be wiped off in a few more days, and this
I owe to you. It was you who insisted that I should clear myself."
She started.
"Remember that I know nothing, except that you went away."
Prescott told her briefly what he had learned at Navarino and of Wandle's
capture; and her deep satisfaction was obvious.
"I'm so glad!" she exclaimed. "This will make it easier for the others,
though it doesn't affect me. If I had had any doubts, I couldn't have
loved you. But I'm pleased you told me before you were really cleared. To
have waited until everybody knew you were innocent would have looked as
if you were afraid to test my faith in you."
"No," he said; "that couldn't be. I was afraid of your having to make too
heavy a sacrifice; and, unfortunately, there's some risk of that still."
"Go on, Jack."
"I'm far from a rich man, though I never regretted it much until of late.
You know how we live here; I can guess what you have enjoyed at home.
Life's strenuous on the prairie, and though I think it's good, it makes
demands on one you can't have felt in England. There's so much that you
must give up, many things that you will miss. I am anxious when I think
of it."
Muriel looked far across the plain which ran back; glistening in the
sunlight, until it faded into cold blues and purples toward the skyline.
The gray bluffs, standing one behind the other, and the long straggling
line of timber by a ravine marked its vast extent. It filled the girl
with a sense of freedom; its wideness uplifted her.
"Jack," she said, "I wonder whether you can understand why I made you
take me out? The prairie has drawn me from the beginning, and I felt it
would be easier to make a great change in this wonderful open space; I
wanted to adopt the country, to feel it belonged to me. Now that I've
made my choice, my home is where you are; I want nothing but to be loved
and cared for, as you must care for me."
Prescott drew her toward him, but there was more of respect than passion
in his caress.
"My dear," he said gravely, "I feel very humble as well as thankful. It's
a great thing I've undertaken, to make you happy; and I think you'll try
to forgive me if I sometimes fail."
Muriel laughed and shook herself free.
"I'm not really hard to please, and even if you make mistakes now and
then, good intentions count for a good deal. But you are dreadfully
solemn, and there's so much that is pleasant to talk about."
They walked on briskly, for it had been possible to stand still only in
the shelter of the bluff with bright sunshine streaming down on them; the
cold they had forgotten now made itself felt.
"I can't understand Jernyngham," Prescott said after a while. "One can't
blame him for persecuting me, but there's something in his conduct that
makes one think him off his balance."
Muriel's eyes sparkled with indignation.
"I suppose he ought to be pitied, but I can't forgive him, and I'll tell
you what I think. He has led a well-regulated life, but his virtues are
narrow and petty. Indeed, I think they're partly habits. He is not a
clever or a really strong man; but because of his money and position,
which he never ventured out of, he found people to obey him and grew into
a domineering autocrat. I believe he was fond of Cyril and felt what he
thought of as his loss; but that was not all. The shock brought him a
kind of horrified anger that anything of a startling nature should happen
to him--he felt it wasn't what he deserved. Then his desire for justice
degenerated into cruelty and when he came out here, where nobody gave way
to him, he somehow went to pieces. His nature wasn't big enough to stand
the strain."
It was a harsh analysis, but Muriel was not inclined to be charitable.
Jernyngham had made things very hard for her lover.
"I dare say you're right," responded Prescott. "But the morning after he
reached my place in the blizzard I had a talk with him and found him
reasonable. I think he half believed in my innocence, but soon afterward
he was more savage than before."
"Isn't it possible that you took too much for granted? He couldn't be
rude to you when you had saved him from freezing."
"I don't think I did. He was pretty candid at first and I wasn't cordial,
but he listened to me, and I feel convinced that before he left he was
beginning to see that he might have been mistaken. What I don't
understand is why he changed again, when nothing fresh turned up to
account for it."
A light dawned on Muriel. She saw Gertrude's work in this and her face
flushed with anger, but it was not a subject she meant to discuss with
the man she loved.
"Well," she said, "it's scarcely likely that you will learn the truth.
After all, much of Jernyngham's conduct can't be explained." She smiled
at Prescott. "If he'd had any reason in him, he would never have doubted
you."
They turned back to the homestead presently and on reaching it Prescott
found that Colston had arrived. The latter gave him an interview in the
barn, which was the only place where they could be alone, and listened
with a thoughtful air to what he had to say. This included an account of
his meeting with Laxton and the pursuit of Wandle.
"I'm in an unfortunate position," Colston remarked when Prescott had
finished. "You see, every prudential consideration urges me to oppose
you--looked at from that point of view the match is most undesirable--but
I must admit my sympathy with you, and I don't suppose my opposition
would have much effect."
"It certainly wouldn't," Prescott replied.
"After all," Colston resumed, "I have no real authority; Muriel's of age
and she has no property. Still, I'm fond of the girl and am anxious about
her future. I think you ought to satisfy me that you're able to take care
of her."
"I'll try."
Prescott gave him a concise account of his means, his farming operations,
and his plans for the future; and Colston listened with satisfaction. The
man was more prosperous than he had supposed and had carefully considered
what could be done to secure the comfort of his wife; his schemes
included the rebuilding of his house. It was obvious that Muriel need not
suffer greatly from the change. Moreover, Colston had liked Prescott from
the beginning and had found it hard to distrust him, even when
appearances were blackest against him.
"All this," he said frankly, "is a relief to me. But there's another and
more important point." He paused a moment before he continued: "To my
mind your name is cleared, but you must agree that the mystery isn't
unraveled yet. Although I have no power to interfere, Muriel is my wife's
sister and I think she owes my views some deference. Neither of us can
countenance an engagement or your meeting Muriel often while a doubt
remains. The matter must stand over."
"I must yield to that; you have been more liberal than I could have
expected." Then Prescott smiled. "There's only one thing which could
really clear me--the reappearance of my victim; and I don't despair of
it. The police are trying to trace him on the Pacific Slope, but it would
be quite in accordance with his character if he suddenly turned up here."
They went out together, shivering a little, for the barn was very cold,
but they were on friendly terms and were mutually satisfied.