DIANE CHANGES HER MIND
The news of Sheba's safety had been telephoned to Diane from the
roadhouse, so that all the family from Peter down were on the porch to
welcome her with mingled tears and kisses. Since Gordon had to push on
to the hospital to have Holt taken care of, it was Macdonald who brought
the girl home. The mine-owner declined rather brusquely an invitation to
stay to dinner on the plea that he had business at the office which
would not wait.
Impulsively Sheba held out both her hands to him. "Believe me, I am
thanking you with the whole of my heart, my friend. And I'm praying for
you the old Irish blessing, 'God save you kindly.'"
The deep-set, rapacious eyes of the Scotchman burned into hers for an
instant. Without a word he released her hands and turned away.
Her eyes followed him, a vital, dynamic American who would do big,
lawless things to the day of his death. She sighed. He had been a great
figure in her life, and now he had passed out of it.
[Illustration: FOR HIM THE BEAUTY OF THE NIGHT LAY LARGELY IN HER
PRESENCE]
As soon as she was alone with Diane, her Irish cousin dropped the little
bomb she had up her sleeve.
"I'm going to be married Thursday, Di."
Mrs. Paget embraced her for the tenth time within the hour. She was very
fond of Sheba, and she had been on a great strain concerning her safety.
That out of her danger had resulted the engagement Diane had hoped for
was surplusage of good luck.
"You lucky, sensible girl."
Sheba assented demurely. "I do think I'm sensible as well as lucky. It
isn't every girl that knows the right man for her even when he wants
her. But I know at last. He's the man for me out of ten million."
"I'm sure of it, dear. Oh, I am _so_ glad." Diane hugged her again.
She couldn't help it.
"One gets to know a man pretty well on a trip like that. I wouldn't
change mine for any one that was ever made. I like everything about him,
Di. I am the happiest girl."
"I'm so glad you see it that way at last." Diane passed to the practical
aspect of the situation. "But Thursday. Will that give us time, my dear?
And who are you going to have here?"
"Just the family. I've invited two guests, but neither of them can come.
One has a broken leg and the other says he doesn't want to see me
married to another man," Sheba explained with a smile.
"So Gordon won't come."
"Yes. He'll have to be here. We can't get along without the bridegroom.
It wouldn't be a legal marriage, would it?"
Diane looked at her, for the moment dumb. "You little wretch!" she got
out at last. "So it's Gordon, is it? Are you quite sure this time? Not
likely to change your mind before Thursday?"
"I suppose, to an outsider, I do seem fickle," Miss O'Neill admitted
smilingly. "But Gordon and I both understand that."
"And Colby Macdonald--does he understand it too?"
"Oh, yes." Her smile grew broader. "He told me that he didn't think I
would quite suit him, after all. Not enough experience for the place."
Diane flashed a suspicious look of inquiry. "Of course that's nonsense.
What did he tell you?"
"Something like that. He will marry Mrs. Mallory, I think, though he
doesn't know it yet."
"You mean she will get him on the rebound," said Diane bluntly.
"That isn't a nice way to put it. He has always liked her very much. He
is fond of her for what she is. What attracted him in me were the things
his imagination gave to me."
"And Gordon likes you, I suppose, for what you are?"
Sheba did not resent the little note of friendly sarcasm. "I suppose he
has his fancies about me, too, but by the time he finds out what I am
he'll have to put up with me."
The arrival of Elliot interrupted confidences. He had come, he said, to
receive congratulations.
"What in the world have you been doing with your face?" demanded Diane.
As an afterthought she added: "Mr. Macdonald is all cut up too."
"We've been taking massage treatment." Gordon passed to a subject of
more immediate interest. "Do I get my congratulations, Di?"
She kissed him, too, for old sake's sake. "I do believe you'll suit
Sheba better than Colby Macdonald would. He's a great man and you are
not. But it isn't everybody that is fit to be the wife of a great man."
"That's a double, left-handed compliment," laughed Gordon. "But you
can't say anything that will hurt my feelings to-day, Di. Isn't that
your baby I heap crying? What a heartless mother you are!"
Diane gave him the few minutes alone with Sheba that his gay smile had
asked for. "Get out with you," she said, laughing. "Go to the top of the
hill and look at the lovers' moon I've ordered there expressly for you;
and while you are there forget that there are going to be crying babies
and nursemaids with evenings out in that golden future of yours."
"Come along, Sheba. We'll start now on the golden trail," said Elliot.
She walked as if she loved it. Her long, slender legs moved rhythmically
and her arms swung true as pendulums.
The moon was all that Diane had promised. Sheba drank it in happily.
"I believe I must be a pagan. I love the sun and the moon and I know
it's all true about the little folk and the pied piper and--"
"If it's paganism to be in love with the world, you are a thirty-third
degree pagan."
"Well, and was there ever a more beautiful night before?"
He thought not, but he had not the words to tell her that for him its
beauty lay largely in her presence. Her passionate love of things fine
and brave transformed the universe for him. It was enough for him to
be near her, to hear the laughter bubbling in her throat, to touch her
crisp, blue-black hair as he adjusted the scarf about her head.
"God made the night," he replied. "So that's a Christian thought as well
as a pagan one."
They were no exception to the rule that lovers are egoists. The world
for them to-night divided itself into two classes. One included Sheba
O'Neill and Gordon Elliot; the other took in the uninteresting remnant
of humanity. No matter how far afield their talk began, it always came
back to themselves. They wanted to know all about each other, to compare
experiences and points of view. But time fled too fast for words. They
talked--as lovers will to the end of time--in exclamations and the
meeting of eyes and little endearments.
When Diane and Peter found them on the hilltop, Sheba protested, with
her half-shy, half-audacious smile, that it could not be two hours since
she and Gordon had left the living-room. Peter grinned. He remembered a
hilltop consecrated to his own courtship of Diane.
The only wedding present that Macdonald sent Sheba was a long envelope
with two documents attached by a clip. One was from the Kusiak "Sun."
It announced that the search party had found the body of Northrup with
the rest of the stolen gold beside him. The other was a copy of a legal
document. Its effect was that the district attorney had dismissed all
charges pending against Gordon Elliot.
Although Macdonald lost the coal claims at Kamatlah by reason of the
report of Elliot, all Alaska still believes that he was right. In that
country of strong men he stands head and shoulders above his fellows.
He has the fortunate gift of commanding the admiration of friend and
foe alike. The lady who is his wife is secretly the greatest of his
slaves, but she tries not to let him know how much he has captured her
imagination. For Genevieve Macdonald cannot quite understand, herself,
how so elemental an emotion as love can have pierced the armor of her
sophistication.