Part 7 (1/2)
”You're kind,” he said, chuckling. ”Too kind! I don't want to hurt his feelings. I wouldn't, for the world! But really ... I've never heard a man praised for his vanity before, or admired for being touchy about his dignity! If you're right ... why ... it's been convenient. It might even mean hope. But ... hm-m-m---- Would you want to marry a man like that?”
”Great Manitou forbid!” said Aletha firmly. She grimaced at the bare idea. ”I'm an Amerind. I'll want my husband to be contented. I want to be contented along with him. Mr. Bordman will never be either happy or content. No paleface husband for me! But I don't think he's through here yet. Sending for help won't satisfy him. It's a further hurt to his vanity. He'll be miserable if he doesn't prove himself--to himself--a better man than that!”
Chuka shrugged his ma.s.sive shoulders. Redfeather tracked down the last item he needed and fairly bounced to his feet.
”What tonnage of iron can you get out, Chuka?” he demanded. ”What can you do in the way of castings? What's the elastic modulus--how much carbon in this iron? And when can you start making castings? Big ones?”
”Let's go talk to my foremen,” said Chuka complacently. ”We'll see how fast my ... ah ... mineral spring is trickling metal down the cliff-face. If you can really launch a lifeboat, we might get some help here in a year and a half instead of five----”
They went out-of-doors together. There was a small sound in the next office. Aletha was suddenly very, very still. She sat motionless for a long half-minute. Then she turned her head.
”I owe you an apology, Mr. Bordman,” she said ruefully. ”It won't take back the discourtesy, but--I'm very sorry.”
Bordman came into the office from the next room. He was rather pale. He said wryly:
”Eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves, eh? Actually I was on the way in here when I heard--references to myself it would embarra.s.s Chuka and your cousin to know I heard. So I stopped. Not to listen, but to keep them from knowing I'd heard their private opinions of me. I'll be obliged if you don't tell them. They're ent.i.tled to their opinions of me. I've mine of them.” He added grimly, ”Apparently I think more highly of them than they do of me!”
Aletha said contritely:
”It must have sounded horrible! But they ... we ... all of us think better of you than you do of yourself!”
Bordman shrugged.
”You in particular. 'Would you marry someone like me? Great Manitou, no!'”
”For an excellent reason,” said Aletha firmly. ”When I get back from here--_if_ I get back from here--I'm going to marry Bob Running Antelope. He's nice. I like the idea of marrying him. I want to! But I look forward not only to happiness but to contentment. To me that's important. It isn't to you, or to the woman you ought to marry. And I ... well ... I simply don't envy either of you a bit!”
”I see,” said Bordman with irony. He didn't. ”I wish you all the contentment you look for.” Then he snapped: ”But what's this business about expecting more from me? What spectacular idea do you expect me to pull out of somebody's hat now? Because I'm frantically vain!”
”I haven't the least idea,” said Aletha calmly. ”But I think you'll come up with something we couldn't possibly imagine. And I didn't say it was because you were vain, but because you are discontented with yourself.
It's born in you! And there you are!”
”If you mean neurotic,” snapped Bordman, ”you're all wrong. I'm not neurotic! I'm not. I'm annoyed. I'll get hopelessly behind schedule because of this mess! But that's all!”
Aletha stood up and shrugged her shoulders ruefully.
”I repeat my apology,” she told him, ”and leave you the office. But I also repeat that I think you'll turn up something n.o.body else expects--and I've no idea what it will be. But you'll do it now to prove that I'm wrong about how your mind works.”
She went out. Bordman clamped his jaws tightly. He felt that especially haunting discomfort which comes of suspecting that one has been told something about himself which may be true.
”Idiotic!” he fumed, all alone. ”Me neurotic? Me wanting to prove I'm the best man here out of vanity?” He made a scornful noise. He sat impatiently at the desk. ”Absurd!” he muttered wrathfully. ”Why should I need to prove to myself I'm capable? What would I do if I felt such a need, anyhow?”
Scowling, he stared at the wall. It was irritating. It was a nagging sort of question. What would he do if she were right? If he did need constantly to prove to himself----
He stiffened, suddenly. A look of intense surprise came upon his face.
He'd thought of what a self-doubtful, discontented man would try to do, here on Xosa II at this juncture.