"But I t'ink I mos' not let you see I love you. So I mak' show I don'
care at all. An' it hurt me ver' moch in my empty breast, 'Erbe't. But
why I do it?--I want you so to marry me! an' bam-bye you marry me; an' I
so scare and happy lak I was lose my head! Four days I married now! You
not mad at me, 'Erbe't, 'cause I mak' you marry me?"
He shrugged. "What's the diff?" he said carelessly.
Rina dared to let her arm creep around his shoulders. "But bam-bye you
ver' glad you marry me," she whispered. "For I mak' me ver' nice! I
white woman now. I go no more to the breeds. I spik only Engliss now; we
will sit in chairs and eat pretty with knives and forks; and always say
good morning and good night, lak white people. 'Erbe't, you will teach
me all the ways of white people, lak they do outside? I want so bad to
be ver' nice, jus' lak white woman!"
"Sure!" said Mabyn vaguely.
Rina was silent for a while. "'Erbe't," she said at last, "you never
tell me about your folks; about your house where you live outside.
Please tell me."
He muttered, and writhed uncomfortably on the bench. "What's the use of
bringing that up?" he said at last. "You wouldn't understand if I tried
to tell you."
"Loving makes me onderstan' moch," she softly pleaded.
He was silent.
"Have you any sisters outside, 'Erbe't?" she gently persisted.
"No," he said.
"Your mot'er, she is not dead?"
"No."
"She mos' be ver' nice, I think."
"She's a lady!" he blurted out.
Rina nodded wisely. "I know what that is," she said. "A lady is a ver'
nice woman." Her voice dropped very low. "'Erbe't," she whispered, with
infinite, passionate desire in her voice--stroking his cheek, "will you
teach me to be a lady?"
He laughed. "You 'tend to your work about the place," he said, "and
don't bother your head over that."
Tears slowly welled up in Rina's eyes, and stole one after another down
her cheeks. "I do so ver' moch want to be a lady," she whispered, more
to herself than to him. He did not know she wept, she was so still.
By and by she raised her head, and shook the tears away. "To-morrow, I
will begin to fix things nice for you, 'Erbe't," she said with renewed,
soft tenderness.
He vented his hopeless, jeering chuckle. "Nice!" he echoed. "My God,
Rina! What are you going to begin on?"
"I show you!" she said eagerly. "I have a whole tanned buckskin my
father give to me when I go 'way; and my mot'er, she give silk, all
colours. I make seven, eight, maybe ten pairs of glove, with cuffs; and
work them with silk flowers! No woman can work so good with silk than
me! I work all the time there is light; and when all are done I get
forty dollar in trade at the store! And I buy cartridges and traps and
grub, and another skin to work. Not any more will you be poor, 'Erbe't!"
"Lord! How will we ever drag out the winter in this God-forsaken spot!"
he grumbled--unconsciously shifting the initiative to her shoulders.
Her arm tightened about him. "We will do fine!" she said eagerly. "We
will mak' moch money. There is no plentier place for fur; and we will
have it all! Me, I can set traps and snares as good as Michel Whitebear.
Maybe I will get a silver fox, or a black one. I know the fox! In the
spring we will have plenty good credit at the store. We can travel to
the Settlement then, and you will not be lonesome. There are many white
men. We could stay in the Settlement all summer; and I would cook meals
for the freighters and the travellers and mak' more money. I am a good
worker, 'Erbe't. Everybody say so!"
Mabyn partly roused himself. "That's not a bad idea," he said. "Under
cover of the restaurant, it would be dead easy to run in a little
whiskey over the Berry Mountain trail, and make a pot of money. Fifty
cents a drink, by Gad!"
Rina drew away from him. "I will not help you do that, 'Erbe't," she
said quietly.
"You'll do what I tell you to do," he said coolly.
Rina remained silent. Her breast heaved and trembled with terror at her
own temerity in defying her husband--but there were both firmness and
reproach in her attitude. It was more than the weak Mabyn could bear for
long in silence.
"Good God!" he burst out. "Have I married a breed to tell me what I
ought to do, and ought not to do? Better learn once for all, my girl,
that I'm the head of this outfit, and I mean to do whatever I damned
please!"
Rina sat gripping her hands together in her lap to control their
trembling. Her head was bowed. "I am only a breed girl," she said. "You
are my 'osban', and you can beat me, and you can kill me, but I would
not cry out, or think bad of you. But you cannot mak' me help you to
mak' a pig of you again. I will mak' you to have good credit, an' to be
a rich and strong man, an' you can go back and spit on the poor breeds
that mock you before. I will not help you trade in whiskey; whiskey mak'
you poor, an' sick, an' crazy!"
Mabyn got up. "God! Women are all alike, white or brown!" he muttered
indifferently. "Come on in."
But he had yielded the point. The regeneration of Herbert Mabyn had been
undertaken.