LAURA COMMENCED TO PACK THE TRUNK.
LAURA COMMENCED TO PACK THE TRUNK.Page307.
The negress pushed the table out of the way, and, in her flurry, nearly fell over the armchair.
"Golly, such excitement!" she exclaimed. "Wheah yuh goin', Miss Laura?"
"Never mind where I'm going," snapped her mistress. "I haven't any time to waste now talking. I'll tell you later. This is one time, Annie, that you've got to move. Hurry up!"
Giving the maid a push, she hustled her out of the room, and followed closely behind herself. Presently they returned with a smaller trunk.
"Look out fo' yo' dress, Miss Laura," exclaimed the maid.
The trunks were set down, side by side. Laura opened one and commenced to throw the things out, while Annie stood watching her. Soon the actress was down on her knees in front of the trunk, humming "Bon Bon Buddy" packing for dear life, while the maid watched her in amazement.
"Ah nevah see you so happy, Miss Laura."
"I never was so happy!" cried Laura almost hysterically. Giving the girl a push, she exclaimed impatiently: "For Heaven's sake, girl, go get something! Don't stand there looking at me. I want you to hurry."
Thus admonished, Annie ran helter-skelter in the direction of her mistress' room.
"I'll bring out all de fluffy ones first," she cried as she disappeared.
"Yes, everything!" cried Laura, who was on her knees busy laying the things neatly away in the trunk.
Presently the maid returned laden with an armful of dresses and a hat-box. The box she placed on the floor, the dresses on top of the trunk. Going out again for more, she asked:
"Yuh goin' to take dat opera cloak?"
"Yes, everything—everything!" answered Laura, breathless from the speed at which she was working.
Annie reëntered with more dresses. There seemed no end to them, each more beautiful and costly than the other. The maid put them on the sofa; then, picking up the opera cloak, she laid it out on top of the dresses in the trunk. Even the humble colored menial was spellbound by the beauty of these adjuncts of feminine loveliness.
"My, but dat's a beauty! I jest love dat crushed rosey one."
Laura looked up impatiently. The girl's chatter made her nervous. Sharply, she said:
"Annie, go and put the best dresses on the foot of the bed. I'll get them myself. You heard what I said?"
The girl ran. She stood in awe of her mistress when she was in ill-humor.
"Yassum!"
While the negress was in the inner room taking the garments from the cupboards, Laura continued busily arranging the contents of the trunk, placing garments here, and some there, sorting them out. While she was thus engaged, with her back to the door, the door leading to the outer corridor opened, and Brockton appeared. He entered quietly, without disturbing Laura, and for a minute or two stood watching her in silence. Then, suddenly, he said:
"Going away?"
Startled, Laura jumped up and confronted him.
"Yes," she said, with some confusion.
"In somewhat of a hurry, I should say," he said dryly.
"Yes."
"What's the plan?" he inquired.
"I'm just going—that's all," she said calmly.
"Madison been here?" he asked in the same even tone.
"He's just left," she answered.
"Of course you are going with him?"
"Yes."
"West?"
"To Nevada."
"Going—er—to get married?" he demanded.
"Yes, this afternoon."
He looked at her keenly, and said significantly:
"So he didn't care then?"
Flushing, she flared up:
"What do you mean, when you say 'He didn't care'?"
"Of course you told him about the letter, and how it was burned up, and all that sort of thing, didn't you?"
"Why, yes," she replied, averting her eyes.
"And he said it didn't make any difference?"
"He—he didn't say anything. We're just going to be married, that's all."
"Did you mention my name, and say that we'd been—rather companionable for the last two months?"
"I told him—you'd been—a very good friend to me."
She spoke with hesitation, at moments with difficulty, as if seeking to gain time, to find answers for his awkward questions. But she did not deceive him. Brockton was too much the man of the world to be easily hoodwinked. He knew she was lying, and his face flushed with anger.
"How soon do you expect him back?" he demanded.
"Quite soon," she replied, with an effort to be calm. "I don't know just exactly how long he'll be."
She turned her back and proceeded with her packing. He came nearer and stood overlooking the trunk.
"And you mean to tell me that you kept your promise and told him the truth?" he persisted.
She stammered confusedly, and then, her patience exhausted, she broke out into open defiance.
"What business have you got to ask me that? What business have you got to interfere, anyway?"
Rising and going to the bed in the alcove, she took the dresses and carried them to the sofa. Brockton followed her, his fists clenched.
"Then you've lied again!" he cried furiously. "You lied to him, and you just tried to lie to me now. You're not particularly clever at it, although I don't doubt but that you've had considerable practice."
With a contemptuous shrug of his shoulders, he walked over to the chair at the table and sat down, still holding his hat in his hand, and without removing his overcoat. Laura came back laden with more things. Seeing Brockton sitting, she stopped, and, turning on him, laid the dresses down.
"What are you going to do?" she demanded.
"Sit down here and rest a few moments; maybe longer," he replied coolly.
She looked at him in dismay.
"You can't do that!" she exclaimed.
"I don't see why not. This is my own place."
"But don't you see that he'll come back here soon and find you here?"
"That's just exactly what I want him to do."
Laura looked at him helplessly. With suppressed emotion, almost on the verge of hysteria, she broke out:
"I want to tell you this. If you do this thing, you'll ruin my life. You've done enough to it already. Now, I want you to go. I don't think you've got any right to come here now, in this way, and take this happiness from me. I've given you everything I've got, and now I want to live right and decently. He wants me to marry him. We love each other. Now, Will Brockton, it's come to this. You've got to leave this place, do you hear? You've got to leave this place. Please get out!"
Brockton was white and determined looking. For the first time in his life, he was really angry. Leaving his chair and advancing towards her, he said menacingly:
"Do you think I'm going to let a woman make a liar out of me? I'm going to stay right here. I like that boy, and I'm not going to let you put him to the bad."
"I want you to go!" she cried.
Shutting the trunk-lid down, she went over to the dresser and opened the drawer, to get more things out.
"And I tell you I won't go," he retorted furiously. "I'm going to show you up. I'm going to tell him the truth. It isn't you I care for—he's got to know."
Slamming the drawer shut, she turned and faced him, almost tiger-like in her anger.
"You don't care for me?" she cried.
"No."
"It isn't me you're thinking of?"
"No."
"Who's the liar now?"
"Liar?"
"Yes, liar. You are! You don't care for this man, and you know it."
"You're foolish."
"Yes, I am foolish, and I've been foolish all my life, but I'm getting a little sense now."
Kneeling in the armchair facing him, her voice shaking with anger, she went on:
"All my life, since the day you first took me away, you've planned and planned and planned to keep me, and to trick me and bring me down with you. When you came to me I was happy. I didn't have much, just a little salary and some hard work."
He shrugged his shoulders, and smiled skeptically. Ironically, he said:
"But, like all the rest, you found that wouldn't keep you, didn't you?"
Ignoring his taunt, she went on:
"You say I'm bad, but who's made me so? Who took me out night after night? Who showed me what these luxuries were? Who put me in the habit of buying something I couldn't afford? You did."
"Well, you liked it, didn't you?"
"Who got me in debt, and then, when I wouldn't do what you wanted me to, who had me discharged from the company, so I had no means of living? Who followed me from one place to another? Who, always entreating, tried to trap me into this life? I didn't know any better."
"Didn't know better?" he echoed derisively.
"I knew it was wrong—yes; but you told me everybody in this business did that sort of thing, and I was just as good as any one else. Finally you got me and you kept me. Then, when I went away to Denver, and for the first time found a gleam of happiness, for the first time in my life——"
"You're crazy," he said contemptuously.
"Yes, I am crazy!" she cried hysterically.
Her patience was at an end. She felt that if he stayed there another minute to taunt and torture her, she would go stark, raving mad. A choking sensation rose in her throat. Seized with a sudden fury, she swept the table cover off the table, and, making one stride to the dresser, knocked all the bottles off. Then she turned on him furiously. Almost screaming, she shouted:
"You've made me crazy! You followed me to Denver, and then when I got back you bribed me again. You pulled me down, and you did the same old thing until this happened. Now, I want you to get out, you understand? I want you to get out!"
He turned to pacify her. More gently, he said:
"Laura, you can't do this."
But she refused to listen. Walking up and down the room, gesticulating wildly, she kept crying:
"Go—do you hear—go!"
He took a seat on a trunk. Instantly she turned on him like an infuriated tigress, attempting to push him off by sheer strength.
"No, you won't," she screamed; "you won't stay here! You're not going to do this thing again. I tell you, I'm going to be happy. I tell you, I'm going to be married. You won't see him! I tell you, you won't tell him! You've got no business to. I hate you! I've hated you for months! I hate the sight of your face! I've wanted to go, and now I'm going. You've got to go, do you hear? You've got to get out—get out!"
Such an exhibition of rage in this usually mild girl was something so strange and uncanny that it suddenly aroused in him a feeling of disgust. After all, why should he care? He ought to be glad to get out and be through with her. As she pushed him again, he rose, and threw her off, causing her to stagger to a chair. With a gesture of impatience, he went towards the door.
"What the hell is the use of fussing with a woman?" he exclaimed.
The door slammed noisily behind him. Sinking down on her knees, Laura started to pack with renewed vigor, crying hysterically:
"I want to be happy! I'm going to be married, I'm going to be happy!"
CHAPTER XX.
Two hours later, Laura, fully dressed for a journey, sat on a trunk, nervously watching the clock, patiently awaiting John's return. Annie was still on her knees, struggling with the key of an obstinate suitcase.
A remarkable transformation had been effected in the apartment. The entire place had been dismantled, and the elegantly appointed sitting room was now littered with trunks, grips, umbrellas and the usual paraphernalia that accompanies a woman when she is making a permanent departure from her place of living.
All thebric à brachad been removed from the sideboard and tables. Some of the dresser drawers were half open, and pieces of tissue paper and ribbons were hanging out. On the armchair was a small alligator bag, containing toilet articles and a bunch of keys. The writing-desk had all its contents removed, and was open, showing scraps of torn-up letters. Lying on the floor, where it had been dropped, was a New York Central timetable. Between the desk and the bay-window stood a milliner's box, inside of which was a huge picture hat. Under the desk were a pair of old slippers, a woman's shabby hat and old ribbons. The picture frames and basket of flowers had been removed from the pianola, while the music-stool was on top of the instrument, turned upside down. Between the legs of this stool was an emptyWhite Rockbottle, with a tumbler turned over it. The big trunk stood in front of the sofa, all packed, and it had a swing-tray, in which lay a fancy evening gown. On top of the lid was an umbrella, a lady's traveling-coat, hat, and gloves. On the sofa was a large Gladstone bag, packed and fastened, and close by a smaller trunk-tray with lid. In the end of the tray was a revolver wrapped in tissue paper. The trunk was closed, and apparently locked. The room had the general appearance of having been stripped of all personal belongings. Old magazines and newspapers were scattered all over the place.
Pale and perturbed, Laura sat nervously, starting at each little sound she heard from the street. Every now and then she consulted the small traveling clock which she held in her hand. Why didn't John come. She was all ready. Everything was packed. All they had to do now was to call a cab and drive to the railroad station. Thank God, she had got rid of Brockton! That danger, at least, was removed. John knew nothing, could hear nothing now until they were safely married. If afterwards he heard things and demanded an explanation, she would tell him everything and he would forgive her.
"Ain't yuh goin' to let me come to yuh at all, Miss Laura?" asked the maid with a pout.
"I don't know yet, Annie. I don't even know what the place is like that we're going to. Mr. Madison hasn't said much. There hasn't been time."
"Why, Ah've done ma best for yuh, Miss Laura; yes, Ah have. Ah've jest been with yuh ev'ry moment of ma time, an' Ah worked for yuh an Ah loved yuh, an, Ah doan wan' to be left 'ere all alone in dis town er New York."
Laura turned to the door for a moment, and, while her back was turned Annie stooped, grabbed up a ribbon, and hid it behind her back.
"Ah ain't the kind of culled lady knows many people. Can't yuh take me along wid yuh, Miss Laura? Yuh all been so good to me."
Getting up from the trunk, Laura went to the outer door and listened. Hearing nothing, she returned with a gesture of disappointment. With some irritation, she said:
"Why, I told you to stay here and get your things together, and then Mr. Brockton will probably want you to do something. Later I think he'll have you pack up, just as soon as he finds I'm gone. I've got the address that you gave me. I'll let you know if you can come on."
Hiding the ribbon inside her waist, the negress said suddenly:
"Ain't yuh goin' to give me anything at all, jes' to remembuh yuh by? Ah've been so honest——"
"Honest?" echoed her mistress scornfully.
"Honest, Ah have."
"You've been about as honest as most colored girls are who work for women in the position that I am in. You haven't stolen enough to make me discharge you, but I've seen what you've taken."
"Now, Miss Laura!" protested the girl.
"Don't try to fool me!" cried Laura indignantly. "What you've got you're welcome to, but for Heaven's sake don't prate around here about loyalty and honesty. I'm sick of it."
"Ain't yuh goin' to give me no recommendation?"
Laura shrugged her shoulders impatiently.
"What good would my recommendation do? You can always go and get another position with people who've lived the way I've lived, and my recommendation to the other kind wouldn't amount to much."
Overcome by emotion and disappointment, Annie collapsed on a trunk.
"Ah can just see wheah Ah'm goin'!" she cried; "back to dat boa'din-house fo' me."
"Now, shut your noise," cried Laura impatiently. "I don't want to hear any more. I've given you twenty-five dollars for a present. I think that's enough."
"Ah know," replied the negress, putting on a most aggrieved appearance, "but twenty-five dollars ain't a home, and I'm losin' my home. Dat's jest my luck—every time I save enough money to buy my weddin' clothes to get married, I lose my job."
Laura paced nervously from window to door, from door to window, listening for every footstep.
"I wonder why he doesn't come," she murmured anxiously. "We'll never be able to make that train!"
Picking the timetable off the floor, she sat down in a chair and began to study it intently. While thus engaged, she heard the elevator stop on their floor. She jumped to her feet. There he was! After a few seconds' interval, the bell rang. Yes—that was he. Without waiting for Annie, she rushed to open the door, and fell back, visibly disappointed. It was not John, after all.
"How-dy-do, Miss Laura?"
The visitor was her old friend, Jim Weston. The advance agent was neatly dressed in black, and he had about him an appearance of prosperity which she was not accustomed to see. He looked different, more staid and respectable, but his drollness of speech and kindly manner were the same as ever. He held out his hand to Laura, who invited him in. He came at an inopportune time, but she could not forget his kindness to her during those terrible days at Mrs. Farley's.
"I'm mighty glad to see you, Jim," she said cordially.
"Looks as if you were going to move," he grinned, looking around.
"Yes, I am going to move, and a long ways, too. How well you're looking—fit as a fiddle."
"Yes; I am feelin' fine. Where yer goin'? Troupin'?"
"No, indeed."
"Thought not. What's comin' off now?"
"I'm going to be married this afternoon," she said proudly.
"Married?" he exclaimed in astonishment.
"And then I'm going West."
Leaving the trunks, which he had been inspecting, he walked toward her and held out his hands.
"Now, I'm just glad to hear that," he said warmly. "Ye know when I heard how—how things was breakin' for ye—well, I ain't knockin' or anythin' like that, but me and the missis have talked ye over a lot. I never did think this feller was goin' to do the right thing by yer. Brockton never looked to me like a fellow who would marry anybody, but now that he's going through just to make you a nice, respectable wife, I guess everything must have happened for the best."
He looked at her, and paused, as if expecting she would take him more into her confidence, but she made no reply, and averted her eyes. Sitting on the trunk beside her, he went on:
"Ye see, I wanted to thank you for what you did a couple of weeks ago. Burgess wrote me a letter, and told me I could go ahead of one of his big shows if I wanted to come back, and offered me considerable money. He mentioned your name, Miss Laura, and I talked it over with the missis, and—well, I can tell ye now when I couldn't if ye weren't to be hooked up—we decided that I wouldn't take that job, comin' as it did from you, and the way I knew it was framed up."
"Why not?" she asked in surprise.
"Well, ye see," he said with some embarrassment, "there are three kids, and they're all growing up, all of them in school, and the missis, she's just about forgot the show business, and she's playing star part in the kitchen, juggling dishes and doing flip-flaps with pancakes; and we figured that as we'd always gone along kinder clean-like, it wouldn't be good for the kids to take a job comin' from Brockton—because you—you—well—you—you——"
Laura rose hastily, and her face reddened.
"I know. You thought it wasn't decent. Is that it?"
"Oh, not exactly; only—well, you see I'm gettin' along pretty good now. I got a little one-night stand theatre out in Ohio—manager of it, too. The town is called Gallipolis."
"Gallipolis?" she echoed, puzzled.
"Oh, that ain't a disease," he smiled. "It is the name of a town. Maybe you don't know much about Gallipolis, or where it is."
"No."
"Well, it looks just like it sounds. We got a little house, and the old lady is happy, and I feel so good that I can even stand her cookin'. Of course, we ain't makin' much money, but I guess I'm getting a little old-fashioned around theatres, anyway. The fellows from newspapers and colleges have got it on me. Last time I asked a man for a job he asked me what I knew about the Greek drama, and when I told him I didn't know the Greeks had a theatre in New York, he slipped me a laugh and told me to come in again on some rainy Tuesday. Then Gallipolis showed on the map, and I beat it for the West."
Noticing that his words had hurt her, he stopped, and in an embarrassed kind of way went on:
"Sorry if I hurt ye—didn't mean to; and now that yer goin' to be Mrs. Brockton, well, I take back all I said, and while I don't think I want to change my position, I wouldn't turn it down for—for that other reason, that's all."
"But, Mr. Weston, I'm not going to be Mrs. Brockton!" she cried hastily, with a note of defiance in her voice.
"No?" he exclaimed in surprise.
"No."
"Oh—oh——"
"I'm going to marry another man, and a good man."
"The h—ll you are!"
She rose and put her hand on his shoulder. Gently, she said:
"It's going to be altogether different. I know what you meant when you said about the missis and the kids, and that's what I want—just a little home, just a little peace, just a little comfort, and—and the man has come who's going to give it to me. You don't want me to say any more, do you?"
"No, I don't," he said emphatically, in a tone of hearty approval; "and now I'm just going to put my mit out and shake yours and be real glad. I want to tell ye it's the only way to go along. I ain't never been a rival to Rockefeller, nor I ain't never made Morgan jealous, but since the day my old woman took her make-up off for the last time and walked out of that stage door to give me a little help and bring my kids into the world, I knew that was the way to go along; and if you're goin' to take that road, by Jiminy, I'm glad of it, for you sure do deserve it. I wish yer luck."
"Thank you."
"I'm mighty glad you sidestepped Brockton," he went on. "You're young, and you're pretty, and you're sweet, and if you've got the right kind of a feller, there ain't no reason on earth why you shouldn't jest forgit the whole business and see nothin' but laughs and a good time comin' to you, and the sun sort o' shinin' every twenty-four hours in the day. You know the missis feels just as if she knew you, after I told her about them hard times we had at Farley's boarding-house, so I feel that it's paid me to come to New York, even if I didn't book anything but 'East Lynne' and 'Uncle Tom's Cabin'." Rising and moving towards the door, he added: "Now, I'm goin'. Don't forget—Gallipolis's the name, and sometimes the mail does get there. I'd be awful glad if you wrote the missis a little note tellin' us how you're gettin' along, and if you ever have to ride on the Kanawha and Michigan, just look out of the window when the train passes our town, because that is about the best you'll get."
"Why?"
"They only stop there on signal. And make up your mind that the Weston family is with you, forty ways from the Jack, day and night. Good-by, and God bless you!"
"Good-by, Jim," she said, with some emotion. "I'm so glad to know you're happy."
"You bet," he grinned. "Never mind, I can get out all right. Good-by again."
"Good-by," she said very softly.
The door closed behind him, and once more she took up her solitary vigil at the window. If John would only come! The precious minutes were slipping away. They would never be able to make that train. She wondered what had detained him. Suddenly, a cold chill ran through her. Suppose he had met some one downtown who had told him about her and Brockton. Then he would never come back again, or, if he did, it would be only to wreak his vengeance. In spite of herself she trembled at the mere idea. To change her thoughts, she began to busy herself about the room, collecting the small packages, counting the trunks, showing Annie how to close the apartment when they had gone. Suddenly the front doorbell rang. She gave a joyful exclamation.
"Hurry, Annie—there's Mr. Madison!"
The girl passed into the corridor and a moment later her voice was heard saying:
"She's waitin' for yuh, Mr. Madison."
Laura hastened forward to greet him. John came in, hat in hand, followed by Annie. He stopped short as he entered, and looked long and searchingly at Laura, who had hurried joyously to embrace him. Instinctively she felt that something had happened. That look of suspicion and distrust was not in his eyes when he left her that morning, She trembled but remained firm. Annie disappeared and Laura took his hat and coat and placed them on a trunk.
"Aren't you a little late, dear?" she said timidly.
He remained gloomily silent for a moment. Then, he said:
"I—I was detained downtown a few minutes. I think that we can carry out our plan all right."
"Has anything happened?" she inquired, trying to conceal her anxiety.
"No," he replied hesitatingly. "I've made all the arrangements. The men will be here in a few minutes for your trunks." Feeling in his pocket, he added: "I've got the railroad tickets and everything else, but——"
"But what, John?"
He went over to her. Instinctively she understood that she was about to go through an ordeal. She seemed to feel that he had become acquainted with something which might interfere with the realization of her long-cherished dream. He looked at her long and searchingly. Evidently he, too, was much wrought up, but when he spoke it was with a calm dignity and force which showed the character of the man.
"Laura," he began.
"Yes?" she answered timidly.
"You know when I went downtown I said I was going to call on two or three of my friends in Park Row."
"I know."
"I told them who I was going to marry."
"Well?"
"They said something about you and Brockton, and I found that they'd said too much, but not quite enough."
"What did they say?"
"Just that—too much and not quite enough. There's a minister waiting for us over on Madison Avenue. You see, then you'll be my wife. That's pretty serious business, and all I want now from you is the truth."
She looked at him inquiringly, fearfully—not knowing what to say.
"Well?" she stammered.
"Just tell me what they said was just an echo of the past—that it came from what had been going on before that wonderful day out there in Colorado. Tell me that you've been on the level. I don't want their word, Laura—I just want yours."
The girl shrank back a moment before his anxious face, then summoned up all her courage, looked frankly into his eyes, and with as innocent an expression as she was able to put on, said:
"Yes, John, I have been on the level."
He sprang forward with a joyful exclamation:
"I knew that, dear, I knew it!" he cried.
Taking her in his arms, he kissed her hotly. She clung to him in pitiful helplessness. His manner had suddenly changed to one of almost boyish happiness.
"Well," he went on joyfully, "now everything's all ready, let's get on the job. We haven't a great deal of time. Get your duds on."
"When do we go?"
"Right away. The idea is to get away."
"All right," she said gleefully. Getting her hat off the trunk, she crossed to the mirror and put it on.
He surveyed the room and laughed.
"You've got trunks enough, haven't you? One might think we're moving a whole colony. And, by the way, to me you are a whole colony—anyway, you're the only one I ever wanted to settle with."
"That's good," she laughed lightly.
Taking her bag off the bureau, she went to the trunk and got her purse, coat and umbrella, as if ready to leave. Hurriedly gathering her things together and adjusting her hat, she said, almost to herself, in a low tone:
"I'm so excited. Come on!"
Madison went to get his hat and coat, and both were about to leave, when suddenly they heard the outer door slam. Instinctively both halted and waited. Who could it be? John looked questioningly at Laura, who stood, pale as death and as motionless as if changed into marble. A moment later Brockton entered leisurely, with his hat on and his coat, half-drawn off, hanging loosely on his arm. He paid no attention to either of them, but walked straight through the room, without speaking, and disappeared through theportièresinto the sleeping apartments beyond. His manner was that of a man who knows he is at home and has no account to render to anyone either for the manner of his entrance or what rooms he may enter. Laura, who at first had made a quick movement forward, as if to bar his further progress, fell back, terrified. Putting her coat, bag and umbrella down on a chair, she stood, dazed and trembling, powerless to avert the crisis which she realized was at hand. Madison, who had watched the broker's actions with amazement, suddenly grew rigid as a statue. His square jaw snapped with a determined click, and one hand slipped stealthily into his hip pocket. No one spoke. The tense silence was ominous and painful.
It seemed like an hour, but less than a minute had elapsed when Brockton reëntered, with coat and hat off. Carelessly picking up a newspaper, he took a seat in the armchair, and, leisurely crossing his legs, looked over at the others, who still stood motionless, watching him. Greeting John lightly, he said:
"Hello, Madison, when did you get in?"
Slowly John seemed to recover himself. Suddenly his hand went swiftly to his hip pocket and he drew out a revolver. Eyeing the broker with savage determination, he deliberately and slowly covered him with the deadly weapon. Brockton, who had seen the movement, sprang quickly to his feet. Laura, terror stricken, screamed loudly and threw herself right in the line of fire.
"Don't shoot!" she pleaded hoarsely.
Madison kept his rival covered, but he did not shoot. There was an uncertain expression in his face, as if he was wavering in his own mind as to whether he would kill this man or not. Slowly his whole frame relaxed. He lowered the pistol and quietly replaced it in his pocket, much to the relief of Brockton, who, notwithstanding the danger that confronted him, had stood his ground like a man. Turning to Laura, the Westerner said slowly:
"Thank you. You said that just in time."
There was an awkward silence, broken only by the sound of Laura weeping half hysterically. Finally Brockton, who had recovered his self-possession, said:
"Well, you see, Madison—what I told you that time in Denver——"
John made another threatening gesture which brought him face to face with the broker.
"Look out, Brockton," he said. "I don't want to talk to you——"
"All right," rejoined the broker, with a shrug of his shoulders.
Madison turned to Laura. Peremptorily he said:
"Now get that man out of here."
"John—I——" she protested cheerfully.
"Get him out!" he almost shouted. "Get him out before I lose my temper, or they'll—or they'll take him out without his help!"
The girl laid a supplicating hand on the broker's arm.
"Go—go! Please go!" she pleaded.
"All right," he replied. "If that's the way you want it, I'm willing."
He turned and went into the inner room to get his hat and coat, while John and Laura stood facing each other, without speaking. Brockton soon reëntered, and without a word moved in the direction of the door. The others remained motionless. As the broker put his hand on the door, Laura started forward. Turning to Madison, she pointed at the man who was leaving.
"Before he goes," she cried, "I want to tell you how I learned to despise him. John, I know you don't believe me, but it's true—it's true. I don't love anyone in the world but just you. I know you don't think that it can be explained—maybe there isn't any explanation. I couldn't help it. I was so poor, and I had to live. He wouldn't let me work. He's let me live only one way, and I was hungry. Do you know what that means? I was hungry and didn't have clothes to keep me warm, and I tried, oh, John! I tried so hard to do the other thing—the right thing—but I couldn't."
He listened in silence. There was no anger in his eyes, no menace in his attitude. He merely appeared dumbfounded, crushed; there was in his face a look of mute, helpless astonishment, as a child might look when it saw an edifice of sand carefully and lovingly erected, levelled to the ground by the first careless wave. Almost apologetically he said:
"I—I know I couldn't help much, and perhaps I could have forgiven you if you hadn't lied to me. That's what hurt."
He turned fiercely on Brockton, and approaching close so he could look him straight in the eyes, he said contemptuously:
"I expected you to lie; you're that kind of a man. You left me with a shake of the hand, and you gave me your word, and you didn't keep it. Why should you keep it? Why should anything make any difference to you? Why, you pup, you've no right to live in the same world with decent folks. Now you make yourself scarce, or take it from me, I'll just kill you, that's all!"
"I'll leave, Madison," replied the broker coolly; "but I'm not going to let you think that I didn't do the right thing with you. She came to me voluntarily. She said she wanted to come back. I told you she'd do that when I was in Colorado; you didn't believe me. I told you that when she did this sort of thing I'd let you know. I dictated a letter to her to send to you, and I left it, sealed and stamped, in her hands to mail. She didn't do it. If there's been a lie, she told it. I didn't."
Madison looked at Laura, who hung her head in mute acknowledgment of her guilt. As he suddenly realized how she had tricked him he turned pale, and with a smothered cry sank down on one of the trunks. Until this very moment he still believed in her. He could have forgiven her returning to Brockton, everything; but she had deliberately lied to him and deceived him. That he could never forgive. There was a moment's silence, and Brockton advanced towards him.
"You see! Why, my boy, whatever you think of me or the life I lead, I wouldn't have had this come to you for anything in the world. No, I wouldn't. My women don't mean a whole lot to me because I don't take them seriously. I wish I had the faith and the youth to feel the way you do. You're all in and broken up, but I wish I could be broken up just once. I did what I thought was best for you because I didn't think she could ever go through the way you wanted her to. I'm sorry it's all turned out bad. Good-bye."
He looked at John for a moment, as if expecting some reply, but the big Westerner maintained a dogged silence. With a shrug of his shoulders and without so much as glancing at Laura, Brockton strode to the door and slammed it shut behind him.
JOHN STOOD LOOKING AT HER IN SILENCE.
JOHN STOOD LOOKING AT HER IN SILENCE.Page337.
Madison stood looking at her in silence. There was nothing more to say or do. The broker was right. He had been a poor fool; he had taken this woman too seriously. She was no better than all of her kind. Yet it seemed as if there was something wrong somewhere. It had ended so differently to what he expected. He would never believe in womankind again. Slowly he made his way toward the door, while she, her heart breaking, her face white as death, the hot tears streaming down her cheeks, stood still, not daring to say a word or make a movement. His drawn face and haunted eyes looked as though some great grief had suddenly come into his life, a grief he could not understand. But he gave her no chance to speak. He seemed to be feeling around for something to say, some way to get out and away without further delay. He went towards the door, and with a pitiful gesture of his hand, seemed to be saying farewell forever. With a stifled sob, she darted forward.
"John, I——"
He turned and looked at her sternly.
"I'd be careful what I said if I were you. Don't try to make excuses. I understand."
"It's not excuses," she sobbed. "I want to tell you what's in my heart, but I can't; it won't speak, and you don't believe my voice."
"You'd better leave it unsaid."
"But I must tell," she cried hysterically. "I can't let you go like this."
Going over to him, she made a weak attempt to put her arms around him; but calmly, dispassionately, he took her hands and put them down. Wildly, pleadingly, she went on:
"I love you! I—how can I tell you—but I do, I do, and you won't believe me."
He remained silent for a moment, and then taking her by the hand, he led her over to the chair and placed her in it. He drew back a few steps, and in a gentle but firm tone, tinged with grief which carried tremendous conviction with it, he said:
"I think you do as far as you are able; but, Laura, I guess you don't know what a decent sentiment is. You're not immoral, you're just unmoral, kind o' all out of shape, and I'm afraid there isn't a particle of hope for you. When we met neither of us had any reason to be proud, but I believed that you would see in this the chance of salvation which sometimes comes to a man and a woman fixed as we were then. What had been had been. It was all in the great to-be for us, and now, how you've kept your word! What little that promise meant, when I thought you handed me a new lease of life!"
She cowered before him, unable to say a word in her own defense, almost wishing he would beat her.
"You're killing me—killing me!" she cried in anguish.
He shrugged his shoulders skeptically.
"Don't make such a mistake," he replied ironically. "In a month you'll recover. There will be days when you will think of me, just for a moment, and then it will be all over. With you it is the easiest way, and it always will be. You'll go on and on until you're finally left a wreck, just the type of the common woman. And you'll sink until you're down to the very bed-rock of depravity. I pity you."
Laura quickly raised her head and looked at him. Her eyes were swollen, her face haggard and drawn. Madison found himself wondering how he could ever have thought her even good looking. Her voice was metallic and hard.
"You'll never leave me to do that. I'll kill myself!" she cried hoarsely.
"Perhaps that's the only thing left for you to do," he replied cynically; "but you'll not do it. It's easier to live."
He went to get his hat and coat. Then he turned and looked at her. Laura rose at the same time. There was an unnatural glitter in her eyes. She breathed hard. Her bosom rose and fell spasmodically.
"John," she cried exaltedly, "I said I'd kill myself, and I mean every word of it. If it's the only thing to do, I'll do it, and I'll do it before your very eyes!"
Quickly she snatched up the satchel, opened it, and took out the revolver. Then she stood facing him, waiting.
"You understand," she cried hysterically, "that when your hand touches that door I'm going to shoot myself. I will, so help me God!"
He halted and looked back at her, a covert smile of contempt hovering about his mouth.
"Kill yourself—before me!" he exclaimed ironically. "You'll wait a minute, won't you?" Returning to the inner room, he called out: "Annie! Annie!"
The colored maid came running in.
"Yessuh!"
Madison pointed to Laura.
"You see your mistress there has a pistol in her hand?"
The girl, frightened out of her wits, could only gurgle an incoherent:
"Yessuh!"
"She wants to kill herself," said Madison. "I just called you to witness that the act is entirely voluntary on her part." Turning to the frenzied, hysterical woman, he said indifferently: "Now go ahead!"
In a state bordering on collapse, Laura dropped the pistol on the floor.
"John, I—can't——"
Madison waved the maid away.
"Annie, she's evidently changed her mind. You may go."
"But, Miss Laura, Ah——"
"You may go!" he cried peremptorily.
Bewildered and not understanding, the negress disappeared through theportières. In the same gentle tone, but carrying with it an almost frigid conviction, he went on:
"You didn't have the nerve. I knew you wouldn't. For a moment you thought the only decent thing for you to do was to die, and yet you couldn't go through. I am sorry for you—more sorry than I can tell."
He took a step toward the door.
"You're going—you're going?" she wailed.
"Yes," he replied firmly.
She wept softly. Between her sobs she cried:
"And—and—you never thought that perhaps I'm frail, and weak, and a woman, and that now, maybe, I need your strength, and you might give it to me, and it might be better. I want to lean on you—lean on you, John. I know I need some one." Coaxingly she entreated him; in her tenderest, most seductive tones she made a last desperate effort to win him back. "Aren't you going to let me? Won't you give me another chance?" she pleaded tearfully.
He repelled her coldly.
"I gave you your chance, Laura," he replied.
"Give me another!" she cried, throwing her arms around his neck.
He struggled with her, disentangling himself from her frantic embrace. Pulling away, he said determinedly:
"You leaned the wrong way. Good-bye."
Going quickly to the door before she could again stop him, he opened the door and disappeared. An instant later she heard the outer corridor door slam. He was gone—forever!
She uttered a shrill scream of despair.
"John—John—I——"
Only a dead silence answered her frenzied, pitiful call. John was no longer there to hear her. He was gone from her—forever. She would never look on his face again. She could not blame him. She alone was at fault. But what a blow! Her dream of a life of happiness with the man she loved, her dream of self-redemption and regeneration, all that was blasted at one stroke! And now Will Brockton was gone also. She had lost them both. Abandoned and despised by the man she loved and also by the man to whom she owed everything, her future life was a blank. She must begin her career all over again. She had sunk to what she was before. For several minutes she crouched motionless on the trunk, her entire body shaken by convulsive sobbing. Then suddenly she sat up and looked wildly around her. Rising in a dazed fashion from the trunk, she staggered a few steps across the room. All at once her eyes caught the gleam of the pistol lying on the floor. With a loud cry of mingled despair and anger, she picked the weapon up, and, crossing to the bureau, threw it in a drawer. Then, with a sigh of intense relief, she called out loudly: