Part 12 (1/2)
”What right?”
”The right to defend myself!” And he heeds not Erma's pleading eyes.
Then she whispers, ”Give me the justice I denied you. Let me explain also. How was I, a girl brought up in a land of peace, to know that men could exist like that one from whom you saved Ferdie just now; that to protect the innocent it was necessary to slay the guilty, and _right_, too?” and then bursts forth impetuously, ”_Wretches like that murderer I saw out there I would kill also!_”
But the young man does not seem to heed her; and muttering, ”You don't forgive me any more than you did the murderers,” she falters away and says piteously, ”And I--alone here!” And there are tears in her beautiful eyes; for at this moment Ferdie seems very little of a protector.
This last affects Lawrence. He steps to her, e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.n.g. huskily, ”Not as long as I am here!”
”Oh, thank you,” cries the girl. ”You will take care of me. How nice!”
her smiles overcoming her tears.
”Certainly. That is my duty,” answers Harry, still coldly, for he has been very deeply wounded.
”I don't want your duty!” answers Erma hotly.
”What do you want?”
”Forgiveness! Don't punish me with kindness, and still be implacable.
Forgive me,” pleads the young lady, her little hand held out towards her judge.
Then Miss Travenion gives a startled little ”Ough!” for her fingers receive a grip that makes her wince, and as their hands meet, piquant gaiety comes over the young lady, and the gentleman begins to smile, and his eyes grow sunny.
A second after he says, ”If I am responsible for you, I must look after you. You must have dinner, and so must Ferdie,” and he calls cheerily to the youth, who has been brus.h.i.+ng the sawdust of barroom floor and the dirt of combat from his light travelling suit. ”You are up to a bite, young bantam, ain't you, after your scrimmage?”
”Yes, I'm dead hungry,” answers Mr. Chauncey. ”But Erma, your French maid is in the waiting-room, crying her eyes out. She says my aunt left her with your hand-baggage.”
”Clothes!” screams Miss Travenion. ”There's a new dress in my travelling bag! Oh! to get rid of the dust of travel,” and growing very happy at this find--as what woman would not?--she and Lawrence walk across the tracks to the railroad hotel, followed by the maid and Ferdie, who brings up the rear, stopping at every other step to examine his summer suit for rent of combat, and to give it another brush from barroom dirt, and shortly arrive at the hostelry that lies between the tracks of the Union and Central Pacific Railways.
Here Lawrence suggests that Erma send a telegram to Mrs. Livingston, and dissipate any fears her chaperon may have for her safety. So, going into the telegraph office, she hastily writes the following:
”TO MRS. LIVINGSTON,
”On train bound for Salt Lake City:
”Detained by Ferdie. We are both well, and will follow on first train in the morning. Please tell papa,--who will meet you at the depot.
”ERMA TRAVENION.”
This being despatched, she comes out and stands by Lawrence, and watches the Central Pacific train, with its yellow silver palace sleeping cars, that is just about to run for the West and California, and laughs: ”In two weeks I will be once more on my way to the Golden Land.”
”So soon!” says the young man, a sigh in his voice.
”Oh,” says the girl, airily; ”by that time I shall have seen papa, and we have to do California and get back to New York for the first Patriarch's Ball.” Then she babbles, ”Oh, the delights of New York society. You must come on next winter and see how gay our city is, Captain Lawrence, to a young lady who--who isn't _always_ a wall flower.”
”That I will,” answers Harry, heartily. A moment after, he goes on more considerately, ”If I can arrange my mining business,”--this last by no means so confidently spoken.
As he says this, the train dashes off on its way to the Pacific, and Ferdie coming out of the hotel, where he has been generally put in order, the three, accompanied by the maid, go in to dinner. The mentor of the party registers their names, and tells the proprietor, who seems to know him very well, to give Miss Travenion the best rooms in the house.
At this, the young lady says, ”Excuse me for a few minutes. I have clothes with me now.” And despite Lawrence's laughing protestations that no change can be for the better, she runs up-stairs, and a few minutes after returns, having got the dust of travel from her in some marvellous way, and appearing in a new toilet--one of those half dress, half every day affairs, something with lace on it and ribbons, which makes her beauty fresh as that of a new-blown rosebud.