Part 19 (1/2)
”Who told you of that?” he asked in surprise.
”Dal. She was here yesterday. She will come in spite of me.”
”So will I,” interposed Lane.
She shook her head. ”No, it's different for a man.... I've missed the girls. No one but Dal ever comes. I thought Margie would be true to me--no matter what had befallen.... Dal comes, and oh, Daren, she is good. She helps me so.... She told me what you did at Fanchon's party.”
”She did! Well, what's your verdict?” he queried, grimly. ”That break queered me in Middleville.”
”I agree with what Doctor Wallace said to his congregation,” returned Mel.
As Lane met the blue fire of her eyes he experienced another singularly deep and profound thrill, as if the very depths of him had been stirred. He seemed to have suddenly discovered Mel Iden.
”Doctor Wallace did back me up,” said Lane, with a smile. ”But no one else did.”
”Don't be so sure of that. Harsh conditions require harsh measures.
Dal said you killed the camel-walk dance in Middleville.”
”It surely was a disgusting sight,” returned Lane, with a grimace.
”Mel, I just saw red that night.”
”Daren,” she asked wistfully, following her own train of thought, ”do you know that most of the girls consider me an outcast? Fanchon rides past me with her head up in the air. Helen Wrapp cuts me. Margie looks to see if her mother is watching when she bows to me. Isn't it strange, Daren, how things turn out? Maybe my old friends are right.
But I don't _feel_ that I am what they think I am.... I would do what I did--over and over.”
Her eyes darkened under his gaze, and a slow crimson tide stained her white face.
”I understand you, Mel,” he said, swiftly. ”You must forgive me that I didn't understand at once.... And I think you are infinitely better, finer, purer than these selfsame girls who scorn you.”
”Daren! You--understand?” she faltered.
And just as swiftly he told her the revelation that thinking had brought to him.
When he had finished she looked at him for a long while. ”Yes, Daren,”
she finally said, ”you understand, and you have made me understand. I always felt”--and her hand went to her heart--”but my mind did not grasp.... Oh, Daren, how I thank you!” and she held her hands out to him.
Lane grasped the outstretched hands, and loosed the leaping thought her words and action created.
”Mel, let me give your boy a father--a name.”
No blow could have made her shrink so palpably. It pa.s.sed--that shame.
Her lips parted, and other emotions claimed her.
”Daren--you would--marry me?” she gasped.
”I am asking you to be my wife for your child's sake,” he replied.
Her head bowed. She sank against him, trembling. Her hands clung tightly to his. Lane divined something of her agitation from the feel of her slender form. And then again that deep and profound thrill ran over him. It was followed by an instinct to wrap her in his arms, to hold her, to share her trouble and to protect her.