When Jean reached the Harrington home she found a group of girls on
the piazza, waiting for her, who chattered and laughed and took
absolute possession of her. They were planning an all-day trip on
horseback with lunches and all sorts of interesting things by the
way, and Jean must help them. Then they gave her no chance to speak,
but told her all in chorus, until she could scarcely make out what it
was about. She smiled and agreed, but half the time she did not know
what they were saying, for something still and beautiful within her
soul was claiming her attention, something that seemed too high and
holy to be affected by any of these foolish little things wherewith
the others wanted to while away the time--the brief, dear time left
her to be in _his_ neighborhood! Yet she smiled and agreed, and they
all thought her charming, and went on making their plans.
They made out their list of men who were to be invited. She heard
the names read, and took no account of whom they had selected for her
escort. What did it matter? _His_ name was not among them! She
heard their talk about their horses.
"Robin Hood has gone lame," declared one maiden pettishly, "isn't
that a shame? Father says it's my fault, but I know better. He's
going to get me a new horse pretty soon when he can find one to suit
him. I know just the one I want, coal-black and shines like satin.
He can go like the wind and take a river as if he had wings. I'm
dead in love with him. I'm just dying to ride him, but his owner
won't sell him. Isn't that mean? He belongs to Jasper Holt. Father
has offered him a fabulous price, but he won't sell him at any price,
he says. I think he's perfectly horrid. Of course he only does it
just to be disagreeable because he thinks I want him. That man makes
me tired!"
There was a soft color on Jean's cheeks and she looked up as if a
challenge to defend her friend had been flung to her.
"Perhaps he's fond of the horse," she said gently, as she glanced
around on all those scornful young faces.
"He, fond of anything! Oh my dear! You don't know him!" declared
one of the girls.
"He never was fond of anything in his life," laughed another. "Why,
he's the cruellest thing! You don't know, Jean."
"Men grow very fond of horses," said Jean, holding her head high and
the roses in her cheeks deepening, "and their horses grow fond of
them. A horse loves one who is kind to him."
She was remembering the proud arch of Jasper Holt's black as he rode
beside her in the woods but a short half hour before.
Her words were met by a shout of merriment, and a boisterous young
voice with a sneer in it pierced above the laughter:
"Kind to them! Jasper Holt was never kind to anything in his life!
My dear, you simply don't know him!"
"But I _do_ know him!" said Jean now, rising from her rocker and
standing slim and straight against the vine-covered pillar of the
porch. "I know him better than you all, and I know he is kind. He
was kind and splendid to me! No man could have done more! I am
sorry you feel that way about him. It isn't right! He is my friend!"
She had spoken! She had always meant to, ever since she came; but
there had been little opportunity without being deliberately
disagreeable and dragging the subject in. Perhaps Eleanor had warned
her callers not to mention Jasper Holt, for they usually seemed to
avoid speaking of him; but she had always felt the time would come
when she could speak and let them all know what she thought about
him, and now it had come and she had spoken. Her heart beat wildly,
her cheeks were rosy red, and her eyes shining starrily, but she
stood unabashed and faced them all.
A sudden silence fell upon the little group and they exchanged
furtive glances of understanding as if a mutual agreement sealed
their lips to things that they might say if she were not with them.
"Oh, well, of course you're grateful," said one girl in a
conciliatory tone. "One couldn't help being grateful under such
circumstances; but he would have been a brute not to have pulled you
out of the water and showed you the way to Hawk Valley."
"Perhaps he wants his black to ride in the tournament," said another
girl mischievously, hoping to lift the cloud that had fallen over
them all. "He has audacity enough for anything, though he has never
seemed to care for anything going on in the town. Of course he has
never been encouraged to have."
"He wouldn't dare!" said another with flashing eyes.
"Why wouldn't he dare?" asked Jean, turning steady eyes to the
haughty young speaker.
"Because it wouldn't be tolerated," declared the girl still haughtily.
"I have seen him dare greater things than that," said Jean with a
far-away look in her eyes and something like a smile on her lips.
The girls looked at her a minute in silence and wonder, interchanged
quick glances that said: "She does not know," and changed the
subject. They liked Jean too well, and she was too popular among the
men for them to risk angering her, so they chattered on about what
they would have in the lunch boxes, and who should bring what; but
Jean, with that far-away look in her eyes and that half smile on her
lips, as if she knew things that were hidden from others, said no
more.
They chattered and giggled and chorused to the end of their subject
and their time at last, and took themselves away; but it was the
dinner hour and Harrington was coming up the walk with two men who
were to be their guests for dinner. There was just time for Jean to
change her riding habit for a dinner dress and hurry down again, no
chance for the rest and the quiet thoughts that cried out to have
their way.
The evening was filled with callers, as every evening had been since
she came that was not actually taken up by some entertainment or
invitation. It seemed a wearisome time to Jean, who longed for her
quiet room and her own thoughts. She watched the men who were
talking to her, trying to please her; saw that they were good to look
upon, cultured, and refined: saw that any one of them would be a good
friend to her if she would let him; and yet, when she considered it,
there was not one who came up to the standard of the man who had
saved her life. She tried to look at the matter from their
standpoint and understand why it was that she could not like any of
them as she liked him; why they all seemed rather tedious in their
intercourse and tiresome in their coming; and the great thought came
down upon her that it was because she had first known him, and he was
so much larger and finer a man in every way than they.
She had no more thought than at the beginning that she would ever see
more of Holt. The future showed no bright hope that they might come
together. He had said it would not do, and she trusted him.
Whatever he willed concerning their friendship she bowed to, for she
trusted him utterly; but there was something vivid and both strong
and gentle in him that made all others vapid beside him.
She roused herself to be pleasant and entertaining, but her heart was
not in it. Her sister, noticing as the evening went on that she
looked white and tired, finally managed to send their guests away.
And indeed, there had been moments when all the gaiety and laughter
seemed far away to her, and she had only seen the evil face of
Scathlin and heard his voice demanding the paper and threatening to
find it for himself. Once she had shuddered and shivered visibly as
if she were chilly, and the Captain hastened to pick up a gauze scarf
and throw it around her shoulders, while Freeman Thorne pulled down
the window.
But when they were all gone Eleanor was not at peace about her sister
and in pretty negligee she came in presently to perch upon the bed
and question her.
"Is anything troubling you, Jean?" she asked anxiously. "You seemed
so white and tired to-night?"
"Nothing at all, dearest," said Jean brightly. "What a big
responsibility I am to you, you precious big sister! You mustn't
worry about me, I have had a lovely visit. But I get a little tired
of talking to so many people sometimes, and having to say the same
things over to all those men."
"You queer child!" said her sister, looking at her curiously.
"Almost any girl would be proud, to have so many admirers and you
take them as a matter of course and don't seem to care a bit for any
of them."
She studied the fair face of the girl keenly for any trace of
self-consciousness, but Jean's smile was as placid as ever.
"They are all nice, Eleanor," said the girl wearily, "but they do
grow a little tiresome; all day long some of them, and every day. I
wouldn't mind if you and I had a day or two now and then just all to
ourselves."
"Well, you certainly are hopeless!" said her sister. "Tell me,
child, is there someone at home to whom you have given your heart?"
"Oh, no!" said Jean quickly, laughing at the thought. "Who would
there be? You know all the boys, and there isn't one I could care
for."
"Well, I didn't know but that new bank cashier--"
"Tom Lloyd? Why he's engaged to Bella Harkness. Did no one tell
you? Besides, he's years older than I am."
"Well, there's that oldest Shafton boy. Mother wrote he had come
home from college and started in business. They are a good family,
Jean."
"Jimmy Shafton? Oh, Eleanor! You ought to see him! He's the
biggest snob! But there! I suppose he's nice enough, but I don't
like him, that's all. He has a weak chin, and somehow I don't trust
him. Now, Eleanor, you funny little match-maker, just give me up as
a hopeless case. You can't marry me off yet awhile and you'll have
to make up your mind to it. I'm going home where I belong to take
care of my mother and teach my Sunday School class; but I've had a
glorious time while I was here and I shall enjoy thinking it over a
lot when I get home."
Eleanor was baffled, but persistent.
"Don't you like the Captain?" she asked.
"Yes, a lot. He's going to take me a ride through the canyon
to-morrow. Will you go along? He promised to ask you."
"Well, probably he didn't want me," said Eleanor significantly.
"Well, _I_ do," said Jean decidedly. "I told him I wouldn't go
without you."
"Why, yes, I suppose I could take Betty on her pony."
"Do," said Jean, "I love to ride with Betty, and then you can talk to
the Captain when I get tired."
"You funny little girl! Well, don't you like Freeman Thorne?"
"Of course," said Jean. "He's going to bring me some Indian
arrow-heads to give to my boys at home."
Eleanor sat back and surveyed her inscrutable little sister
hopelessly. There was one more question she wanted to ask, but
somehow she didn't dare, because she hated to see that look of hurt
dignity come into Jean's eyes whenever she spoke of Jasper Holt; but
there lingered in her heart just a little uneasiness about the
handsome outlaw whose part the girl had so loyally taken on her
arrival, and about whom her lips had remained so significantly sealed
ever since. Yet, despite her uneasiness, she went to her room with
the question unasked, and Jean locked her door and turned out her
light with a sigh of relief that at last she was alone.
Down on her knees beside the open window she knelt, her arms on the
window seat, her face raised to the eternal stars. There was a kind
of triumph in her face, for though she knew that great sadness was
coming rapidly on its way, yet over all the excitement of the day,
the terror of peril and escape, there was a great exultation. For
just this one night at least she must exult in the thought of her
lover and his second saving of her life; she must rejoice in his love
and the fact that she could trust him. Memory brought back now in a
flood of joy every glance of his true eyes, every word and gesture,
every movement and attitude of the perfect body. He seemed so much
stronger and finer and nobler in every way than all those others.
What a pity that he must rest under their disapproval. How dreadful
that they could not know him as he really was--that she must
presently go on her lonely way home, and see no more of him, know no
more of him--perhaps never on this earth again. He had it in him to
be true to this terrible separation because he thought it ought to
be, and she was proud of him for it, but her heart already ached in
anticipation of the sorrow that was in store for her.
With a sob she put her head down on the window sill and prayed softly:
"Dear God, take care of him, and help people to know him. Help him
to be true always and let others find it out and be ashamed of the
way they have treated him. Bless him, and keep him--my dear friend!"
Then with one lingering look away to where the stars shone quietly
above his dwelling as above hers, she went to her sleep.