Part 44 (2/2)

”Take me out of this!” he demanded hoa.r.s.ely, through white lips. ”I'm through! Take me away!”

With a scream Angie flung herself forward, but he put her aside as if in a dream and marched out with his guards on either side and his eyes fixed straight ahead over the abyss of the future. Muttering and cursing, Harrington Chase was led after him from the room, and for a s.p.a.ce there was silence.

Ripley Halstead sat as though turned to stone, his wife had collapsed in her chair and Mason North's head was buried in his hands. Winthrop with his arm across his father's shoulders met Vernon's dazed eyes and with one accord they turned to Willa.

Her quiet, set, terrible smile was unchanged, but her face had blanched and with an effort she motioned to Jim Baggott.

”Jim, do you remember what happened in Manzanillo away over on the West Coast ten years ago when you were pay clerk for the Colima-Zamora Company and a man stuck you up in broad daylight?”

”I sure do!” Jim returned. ”I shot him in the head!”

”Not in but across,” observed Willa. ”You left your mark on him from brow to ear, only you didn't recognize it while he was here under your own roof.”

”What!” Jim's eyes were fairly starting from his head. ”That feller was a swindling promoter down on his luck; he broke jail afterward, I heard. His name was Harry Carter.”

”It used to be, but now it is Harrington Chase.”

The smile faded at last, and Willa swayed suddenly, catching at the bar for support. Jim Baggott sprang for her, but Thode reached her side first, and for a moment she clung to him. Then she raised herself indomitably upright once more.

”It is not easy to hate, after all!” she murmured. ”If it were not for the memory of Dad I could find it in my heart to forgive.”

CHAPTER XXV

INTO HER OWN

Spring was well advanced and the Casa de Limas was a veritable paradise of tender virginal green and delicate mystically perfumed blossoms, when Willa, a frail shadow of herself, ventured for the first time to the veranda, on Sallie Bailey's st.u.r.dy arm.

The protracted strain and final tragedy of her triumph had proved too much for even her robust vitality, and when the news came that Starr Wiley had killed himself in his garrison prison rather than face the firing squad, the inevitable collapse occurred.

For weeks she had lain helpless and inert with a low fever sapping her last ounce of strength and no incentive to take up her life again, until one day she had chanced to overhear a remark of Sallie Bailey's which brought a new light and glow to her world.

”I declare!” announced Sallie to her husband. ”I don't know what to say to that young Thode every day when he comes ridin' in with his heart in his eyes to ask if she's better. I never see such devotion in my born days! He's worn to a shadder with the worry over her, and it hurts, I can tell you, to send him away lookin' like I'd hit him a blow when I tell him there's no change. Love's a pretty-fierce thing sometimes, ain't it?”

Love! Willa buried her face in the pillow and a little creeping warmth stole through her veins. It was good to be alive, after all.

But he was still ignorant of the truth about that letter! At the thought Willa's heart contracted and the quick, scalding tears of weakness came to her eyes. He still believed that she had wantonly led him on and trampled him beneath her feet in sheer joy of conquest. Oh, she must become strong enough to tell him how sorry she was, to make amends!

Now as she lay back in her chair, awaiting his coming in the cool of the soft spring evening, the events of the past few months seemed very far away and unreal, almost as though they might have been a dream born of her fever. She could scarcely believe that she had ever left Limasito; the climacteric weeks in New York, the trip to Topaz Gulch and the later scene in Jim Baggott's hotel had alike faded into a vague, nebulous shadow without substance or coherence, and she herself seemed drifting. . . .

Again it was Sallie who brought her back to earth with a matter-of-fact remark.

”I don't s'pose you know, or care either, that the Lost Souls is producin' thousands of barrels a day since they struck that gusher.

You'll never miss the stock now that you gave to Mr. North and them Halsteads to make up for what they lost on their own hook in the fake company, though I did think you were a little fool at the time, Billie.

Served 'em good and right after the way they treated you.”

Willa shook her head wearily.

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