Part 6 (1/2)

”Your memory is better than your manners,” she replied, and though I tried hard to keep my temper, her words stung me to the quick.

”I a.s.sure you I had not the least desire to disturb you. I came in here with the hope, though not the expectation, of finding a lad who came here last night.”

”He is not here,” she a.s.serted, ”and if he were, he has no desire to see you. He told me something of his encounter with you, and if that is the way you treat a young lad, I wonder how you would have treated an unprotected woman.”

I would not trust myself to speak to her. I made her a low obeisance and retired from the room; but I was not to escape so easily. She pursued her advantage; she followed me out into the hall. ”Is it true that the young man compelled you to accompany him to this house last night?”

”If he told you so, madam, it is true,” I replied.

”After threatening to give you a strapping?” she asked. Her mood was almost exultant, though she had been gloomy enough when I first disturbed her.

”If he says so, madam.”

”He didn't say so, but I believe he slapped your face, for it is still red.”

”Perhaps he did, madam.”

”I am no madam, I'll let you know; why do you call me so?”

”It is simply a term of respect, ma'am. Our young people are taught to be respectful to ladies.”

”You may be sure that the young man would have remained to see you, but I was afraid you'd run away and leave your friend.” Women can be very childish sometimes, and this was pure childishness.

”Why, I had no idea that he bore me any ill-will,” I remarked. ”He trotted along by my side in perfect good-humor when I was fetching him home. If he has any grudge against me, I do not think the fault is mine. Say to him that I apologize most humbly for any offence I may have given him.” Jane Ryder was now sure that I did not connect her with the lad--was sure that I had not pierced her disguise, and she became at once very much friendlier. Her relief was apparent in voice and gesture.

”The truth is,” she went on, ”the young man is very fond of you, much to my surprise. It is a strange fancy,” she mused; ”there is no accounting for it. I believe you could prevail on him to leave his friends and go with you to the South; that is why I am keeping him away from you.”

”I have had few friends,” I said, ”and if you could add the young man to the list and place him above all the rest, I should be happy. But as for persuading him to desert his principles, I should never think of it; and I should think ill of him if he could be persuaded.”

”He really thinks that you are one of the finest men he ever met,”

pursued Jane Ryder. ”He says that a young woman would be as safe from insult with you as she would be with her mother.”

”And why not?” I inquired. ”I thank your friend for his good opinion of me; but it is no great compliment to me to say that I should protect a woman with my life, if need be. Back yonder there are gathered three or four thousand men, and out of that four thousand you will not find ten who would not do the same and think it nothing to boast of.”

”I wouldn't trust them,” she declared.

”Would you trust me?” I asked. The words were out of my mouth before I could recall them. They meant more than she would think or than she would care for them to mean.

”I certainly would,” she said, clenching her hands in a strange little gesture.

”I thank you for saying that much,” I declared. ”The time may come--not soon, perhaps--when I shall have to ask you to trust me.”

”Soon or late,” she replied, ”my answer will be the same.”

I never was more shaken with the excitement of temptation than at that moment. She must have known it; they say women are quick at reading the thoughts of a man, but, instead of drawing away from me, she drew nearer. In another instant I should have seized her in my arms, the pale and lonely creature, but just then the sound of footsteps came along the hall, and I heard the happy laughter of Katherine Bledsoe. I had raised my arms, but now I lowered them and she had seized my hand.

”Good-by!” she said, and as soon as she could tear her hand from mine she was gone--gone by another door, and Harry and her companion came plump upon me standing in the hallway, gazing at the door through which Jane Ryder had disappeared. Then I turned and gazed at them, first at one and then at the other.

”What have you done with her?” inquired Kate, with just a shade of solicitude in her voice. ”Oh, I hope you haven't hurt her,” she cried.