THE PLEDGE OF FAITH.
Still it seemed impossible for her to believe. She put out her hand
toward the near-by wall of the house, as if seeking support. When he
offered to give her that support, she continued to hold him at bay.
"You're a noble boy, Berlin," she whispered. "You will make a noble
husband for some girl."
"For you."
"No, not for me."
"Then you do not love me! You never loved me!" he panted. "You were
toying with me! You were deceiving me! It was a part of your amusement!
You knew you had fascinated me and bewitched me, and it gave you
pleasure to toy with me! Ah, this hurts more than everything else!"
"I did care for you," she asserted faintly.
"You did care--in a way, perhaps."
"You never told me that you loved me."
"Because you would not give me a chance. I never told you in words, but
my eyes told you so a hundred times."
"I've seen others who talked with their eyes and kept silent with their
lips."
"And you thought me like them?"
"Well--no. You were different; I acknowledge that."
"But you thought me fit only to flirt with. That was it. You took
delight in arousing the fire in my heart that you might see it glowing
from my eyes. You're like them all. They love to play with fire. They
love to lead a man on and then throw him down. But I didn't think you
just like every other girl. I thought you different."
"You have learned that I was different, but in a way you did not
suspect."
"Then you confess you were toying with me, deceiving me?" he bitterly
exclaimed.
A little while before she had sought to turn him against her by telling
all the truth. When that effort failed and he suddenly accused her in
this manner, she had fancied she saw the way to accomplish her purpose
with a falsehood. But now that she was face to face with it she faltered
and could not lie.
"I tell you I did care for you--I cared for you more than words may
express. My fear in those days--and it was the only fear I had ever
known--was that you would learn the truth about me and despise me. Do
you remember the day that you brought Frank Merriwell to the Flying
Dollars? Do you remember that you were left alone in the little library
and in a book you found some verse I had written? I used to write poetry
in those days. Those verses were entitled 'My Secret.' I was angry when
I found you had read them, and I tore them up. I can quote the first
stanza."
In a low musical voice she repeated the following lines:
"When he comes riding up the valley
I watch from my window nook;
My cheeks burn hot, my heart is throbbing
For a single word or look
To tell me that he loves me truly,
But fear his lips will not be
Unsealed to whisper low the story
That means so much to me.
"It's poor poetry, Berlin--poor poetry; but it expressed the longing of
my heart. And your lips remained sealed!"
Now he would have seized her and crushed her to his heart, but with
astonishing strength she clutched his wrists and held him back.
"My lips are unsealed now!" he panted.
"It's too late!" she cried, in a weak, heartbroken tone; "too late!"
"Why is it too late? How can that be?"
"One thing you have forgotten. You found me here playing a part. Do you
think I'm pretending to be a French nurse merely as a whim--merely as an
amusement?"
"I can't understand that," he confessed. "Why is it?"
She forced a laugh that was wholly without merriment.
"Perhaps this is only one of many parts I have played. You called me an
actress. I am--an actress on the stage of life. I intended that no one
should ever again recognize me as the daughter of Colonel King. I found
it necessary to work--to make my living somehow. Had I appeared here as
Bessie King, do you think Frank Merriwell would have trusted me? Do you
think I would be an inmate of his home? Oh, no, Berlin. I had to
disguise myself to deceive him, and it was necessary to play my part
well. Even when I did my best I realized he knew he had seen me before
some time, somewhere. Once he questioned me. Once he asked me if I had a
brother. He was very, very near discovering the truth then. Do you think
I can have any feeling of friendliness for this man Merriwell? Do you
think I can forget that it was through him my father met his fate? Only
for Frank Merriwell the real truth might have remained a secret. In time
the cattle stealing would have ceased. My father would have sold the
Flying Dollars, and we would have gone elsewhere. But Merriwell came,
and his discovery brought the sheriff and his posse. Sometimes when I
have thought of this I've longed to kill Frank Merriwell. More than once
I have said to myself, 'His life is yours, for you saved it once.'"
"You should put aside such thoughts and feelings, Bessie. You cannot
blame Frank. He was my friend. I brought him to the Big Sandy. Our
cattle were being stolen. As my friend, he did his best to aid me."
"Oh, I suppose it's wrong, but a person brought up as I have been finds
it hard to distinguish right from wrong. Many of the things people
recognize as right seem wholly wrong to me. Would you have a wife with
such a distorted conscience, Berlin Carson?"
"Let me be your guide," he pleaded. "Let me teach you the right."
"I tell you it is too late!"
Words seemed useless, and he stood there gazing at her helplessly,
almost hopelessly. A sudden thought struck him like a blow, and he
almost reeled.
"There is another!" he hoarsely whispered. "Ah, ha, that's it! I've
struck the truth at last! It's that man--the man you met to-night! Speak
up, Bessie! Tell me who he is! By Heaven, you shall tell me!"
"I will--in time," she promised. "Wait, Berlin--please wait!"
"I've waited too long already. Have I waited simply to find another man
in my place?"
"Wait a little longer," she urged. "I have promised to tell you all, and
I will. Can't you trust me a little longer, Berlin? Please--please trust
me a little longer!"
She held out her hands in pleading, and a moment later, ere she could
check him, he had seized her and was holding her to his heart.
"Yes, yes," he panted, "I will trust you, Bessie--I'll trust you with my
very life!"
Their lips met, and then----
The heavens fell!