EVE AND WILL
Elia was staring at his sister with wide, expectant eyes. Suspense
was evidently his dominant feeling at the moment. A suspense which
gave him a sickly feeling in the pit of the stomach. It was the
apprehension of a prisoner awaiting a verdict; the nauseating
sensation of one who sees death facing him, with the chances a
thousand to one against him. A half-plaited rawhide rope was lying in
his lap; the hobby of making these his sister had persuaded him to
turn to profitable account. He was expert in their manufacture,
and found a ready market for his wares on the neighboring ranches.
Eve was staring out of the window considering, her pretty face
seriously cast, her eyes far away. Will Henderson, his boyishly
handsome face moodily set, was standing beside the work-table that
occupied the centre of the living-room, the fingers of one hand
restlessly groping among the litter of dress stuffs lying upon it. He
was awaiting her answer to a question of his, awaiting it in suspense,
like Elia, but with different feelings.
Nor did the girl seem inclined to hurry. To her mind a lot depended on
her answer. Her acquiescence meant the giving up of all the little
features that had crept into her struggling years of independence.
There was her brother. She must think for his welfare. There was her
business, worked up so laboriously. There was the possible removal
from Barnriff to the world of hills and valleys, which was Will's
world. There were so many things to think of,--yet--yet she knew her
answer beforehand. She loved, and she was a woman, worldly-wise, but
unworldly.
The evening was drawing in, and the soft shadows were creeping out of
the corners of the little room. There was a gentle mellowness in the
twilight which softened the darns in the patchwork picture the place
presented. This room was before all things her shop; and, in
consequence, comfort and the picturesque were sacrificed to utility.
Yet there was a pleasant femininity about it. A femininity which never
fails to act upon the opposite sex. It carries with it an influence
that can best be likened, in a metaphoric sense, to a mental aroma
which soothes the jagged edges of the rougher senses. It lulls them to
a gentle feeling of seductive delight, a condition which lays men so
often open to a bad woman's unscrupulousness, but also to a good
woman's influence for bringing out all that is greatest and best in
their nature.
The waiting was too long for Will. He was a lover of no great
restraint.
"Well, Eve?" he demanded, almost sharply. "Two months to-day. Will
you? We can get the parson feller that comes here from Rocky Springs
to--marry us."
The dwarf brushed his rope out of his lap, and, rising, hobbled to
Eve's side, and stood peering up into her face in his bird-like way.
But he offered no word.
Eve's hand caressed his silky head. She nodded, nodded at the distant
hills through the window.
"Yes, Will, dear."
The man was at her side in an instant, while Elia slunk away. The
youth drew back and turned tail, slinking off as though driven by a
cruel lash in the hand of one from whom kindness is expected. He did
not return to his seat, but passed out of the house. And the girl and
man, in their moment of rapture, forgot him. At that moment their
lives, their happiness, their love, were the bounds of their whole
thought.
For moments they stood locked in each other's arms, oblivious to all
but the hot passion that ran through their veins. They were lost in
the dream of love which was theirs. The world was nothing, life was
nothing, except that it gave them this power to love. They drank in
each other's kisses till the woman lay panting in the fierce embrace
of the man, and he--he was devouring her with eyes which hungered for
her, like the eyes of a starving man, while he crushed her in the arms
of a man savage with the delicious pain of his passion.
At last it was the woman who stirred to release herself. It is ever
the woman who leads where love dominates. She gently but firmly freed
herself. She held his hands and looked up into his glowing eyes. She
had something to say, something to ask him, and, reluctant though she
be, she must abandon for the time the blissful moments when their
mutual love was burning to the exclusion of all else. Will's
passionate eyes held her, and for some moments she could not speak.
Then, with an effort, she released his hands and defensively turned
her eyes away.
"I--I want to speak to you about--Jim," she said at last, a little
hesitatingly.
And the fire in the man's eyes abruptly died out.
"He was here this morning, and--he was a little strange."
Will propped himself against the table, and his face, strangely pale,
was turned to the window. Nor did he see the snow-capped hills which
bounded the entire view. Guilty thoughts filled his mind and crowded
out everything else.
"Well?" he demanded, as Eve waited for him to speak.
"You are such friends, dear, that I wanted to ask you--Do you know why
he came to see me?"
Will shook his head. Then a smile struggled round his clean shaven
mouth.
"Maybe the same reason that makes most fellows crowd round a pretty
girl."
It was a wistful smile that accompanied the girl's denial.
"I would like to think it was only that," she said. "Do you know I am
very, very fond of Jim. No, no, not in the way you mean," she
exclaimed hastily, as the man turned on her, hot with the jealousy
which was so much a part of his Celtic nature. "I have always been
fond of Jim. He's so generous; so kind and self-sacrificing. Do you
know, Will, I believe he'd give up anything to you. It is my
conviction that his first thought in life is for your welfare and
happiness. And somehow, it--it doesn't seem right. No, I don't mean
that you don't deserve it, but that--well, don't you think a man
should fight every battle in which he finds himself on his own
account? Don't you think, you who are so capable, that the struggles
that every man must encounter in life demand the whole of his
energies to bring them to a successful end? I do. It's not a matter of
self exactly, but we are all so full of weaknesses that this unselfish
way of dividing our energies is apt to weaken our own defenses. Thus
the scheme for our own uplifting, our own purification, rather
suffers. You see, I think we are here on this earth for the purpose of
bettering ourselves and preparing for that future, which--I know what
I am saying sounds selfish, but really, really, I don't think it is.
Do you know, Jim came to ask me to marry him? I know he did. I avoided
his direct question, and told him that you asked me last night, and
that I had given you my promise. Well, he accepted it as though, as
though he had no business to want what you wanted. And his only
comment was that you were a 'good boy,' and that he thought you'd make
me a good husband. Now, don't laugh"--the man showed not the slightest
inclination to do so. His face was livid; there was something like
horror in his eyes--"but if I'd been a man in his place I should have
been just mad. Do you think I'd have said that? No, Will; my thoughts
would have been murderous. But with him it was otherwise, I'm sure.
Yet he loved me, and he was hurt. I could see it--oh, I could see it.
The agony in his eyes nearly broke my heart. Will, I think we owe Jim
something. I know we can't ever repay it. But we owe him surely. You
do, even more than I. I can't bear to think of his hurt."
The girl ceased speaking. Will had made no attempt to stop her, yet
every word she had spoken lashed him to a savage self-defense.
"I--I didn't know he loved you," he lied. Then he stopped with a
sickening impulse. But in a moment he went on. He had taken the
plunge, and his selfish nature came to his aid. "Poor Jim," he said,
with apparent feeling. "It's hard luck--mighty hard luck. But, then,
Eve, a feller can't expect a man to stand by where a woman's
concerned. Not even a brother. You see, dear, I love you so bad. I'd
lose anything but you, yes, even my life." He drew nearer to her, but
the girl made no response. "Jim's got to take his 'medicine.' Same as
I'd have taken mine, if you'd loved him. If Jim squeals, he's
not----"
"Oh, don't be afraid of that," Eve exclaimed, with some warmth. "Jim
won't 'squeal.' It's not in him to 'squeal.' He'll take his 'medicine'
with any man. I'm not thinking of that. It's--oh, I don't know--only I
think you're lucky to have such a friend, and I--oh, I wish we could
do something for him."
Eve did not know how to express all she felt, and Will did not help
her. He displayed no sympathy, but seemed absolutely indifferent, and
she almost felt angry with him.
"There's nothing to be done." Then something prompted the man, and he
went on harshly. "It was a fair fight and no favor. I love you, Eve;
God knows how I love you. And I wouldn't give you up or lose you for
fifty Jims. If Jim stood in the way between us I'd--I'd--push him out
at--any cost."
"Will!" There was horror in the girl's exclamation. Then the woman in
her rose at the contemplation of the man's love and passion for her.
How could it be otherwise? She came to him, and was hugged in arms
that almost set her gasping.
"I love you, Eve. I love you! I love you!"
Their lips met, and the woman clung to him in the rush of her
responsive passion.
"Oh, Will," she cried at length. "It's good to be loved as you love.
It's so good. Kiss me, dear, kiss me again. I am all yours."
The man needed no bidding. He had wronged his friend; had lied, lied
in the worst way a man can lie, to make sure of her. He appreciated
the cost, and its value made those moments all the more precious.
But he had no real regret for the wrong he had committed. And this was
an unerring index to his nature. He would stand at nothing where his
own desires were at stake.