Part 52 (2/2)
”Could you expect me to be indifferent to the loss of my brother?”
”You knew you had not lost him. You believed what Mr. Prescott told you, until we came.” Muriel flushed and hesitated, for this was as far as she would go. Even in her anger, she would not taunt her beaten rival with defeat. ”Now,” she continued, ”you must see what you have done. You have made your father suffer terribly; I think you have weakened his mind, and, if I hadn't turned the pistol, you would have made him kill an innocent man. He seems too dazed and shaken to realize what he meant to do, but the thing was horrible.”
Gertrude sat silent for a few moments, her face drawn and colorless. Then she looked up.
”I couldn't see what it would lead to. Do the others know what you have told me? Does Mr. Prescott?”
She looked crushed and defenseless and Muriel's resentment softened.
”No,” she said. ”n.o.body knows, and Mr. Prescott will never suspect; he's not the man to think hard things of a woman. But I'm going to insist on your taking your father away.”
”But how can I?” cried Gertrude. ”You know how determined he is!”
”You have influenced him already; you must do so again. You will regret it all your life if you let him stay.”
”Well,” Gertrude promised desperately, ”I will try.” Then a thought struck her and her expression grew gentler. ”Muriel, have you realized that if we leave here soon, the Colstons will accompany us and you will have to go with them?”
”No,” Muriel replied with a resolute smile; ”I will stay.”
Gertrude turned her head and there was silence for a while. Then she said with an effort:
”I can't ask your forgiveness; it would be too much, and I'm not sure that I wish to have it. But I feel that you are generous.”
”Take your father home,” Muriel responded, and getting up went quietly out.
During the next fortnight, Gertrude exerted all her powers of persuasion, without much success. Jernyngham was apathetic, moody, and morose, and his companions found the days pa.s.s heavily. Then one evening Prescott drove over with the excuse of a message for Leslie, and Muriel, putting on her furs, slipped out to speak to him before he left. They stood near the barn, talking softly, until there was a pause and Muriel looked out across the prairie. It was a clear, cold evening; a dull red glow blazed above the great plain's rim, and the bluffs stood out in wavy ma.s.ses with sharp distinctness. The snow had lost its glitter and was fading into soft blues and grays.
The darker line of the trail caught the girl's eye and, following it, she noticed a horseman riding toward the homestead.
”n.o.body has been here for a while,” she said. ”I wonder who it can be?”
Prescott's team, which had been growing impatient of the cold, began to move, and he was occupied for the next minute in quieting them. Then he looked around, started violently, and stood very still, his eyes fixed on the approaching man.
”Jernyngham, by all that's wonderful!” he gasped, and sent a shout ringing across the snow: ”Cyril!”
The man waved his hand, and Prescott, turning at a sound, saw Muriel lean weakly against the side of the sleigh. The color had faded from her face, but her eyes were s.h.i.+ning.
”O Jack!” she said breathlessly. ”Now everything will be put straight!”
Prescott realized from the greatness of her relief what she had borne on his account; but there was something that must be done and he ran to the stable, where Leslie was at work.
”Get into my sleigh, and drive to Harper's as hard as you can!” he said.
”Curtis was there when I pa.s.sed; bring him here at once!”
Leslie came out with him and understood when he saw the newcomer. Jumping into the vehicle, he drove off, while Prescott ran to meet Cyril, who dismounted and heartily shook hands with him.
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