'Firebrand' Trevison
Page 29
CHAPTER XXIX
THE CALM
The day seemed to endure for an age. Rosalind did not leave the car; shedid not go near her father, shut up alone in his apartment; she atenothing, ignoring the negro attendant when he told her that lunch wasserved, huddled in a chair beside an open window she decided a battle. Shesaw the forces of reason and justice rout the hosts of hatred and crime,and she got up finally, her face pallid, but resolute, secure in theknowledge that she had decided wisely. She pitied Corrigan. Had it beenwithin her power she would have prevented the tragedy. And yet she couldnot blame these people. They were playing the game honestly, and theirpatience had been sadly strained by one player who had persisted inbreaking the rules. He had been swept away by his peers, which was as faira way as any law--any human law--could deal with him. In her own East hewould have paid the same penalty. The method would have been more refined,to be sure; there would have been a long legal squabble, with its tediousdelays, but in the end Corrigan would have paid. There was a retributivejustice for all those who infracted the rules of the game. It had foundCorrigan.
At three o'clock in the afternoon she washed her face. The cool waterrefreshed her, and with reviving spirits she combed her hair, brushed thedust from her clothing, and looked into a mirror. There were dark hollowsunder her eyes, a haunting, dreading expression in them. For she could nothelp thinking about what had happened there--down the street where theVigilantes had gone.
She dropped listlessly into another chair beside a window, this timefacing the station. She saw her horse, hitched to the rail at the stationplatform, where she had left it that morning. _That_ seemed to have beendays ago! A period of aching calm had succeeded the tumult of the morning.The street was soundless, deserted. Those men who had played leading partsin the tragedy were not now visible. She would have deserted the town too,had it not been for her father. The tragedy had unnerved him, and she muststay with him until he recovered. She had asked the porter about him, andthe latter had reported that he seemed to be asleep.
A breeze carried a whisper to her as she sat at the window:
"Where's 'Firebrand' now?" said a voice.
"Sleepin'. The clerk in the _Castle_ says he's makin' up for lost time."
She did not bother to try to see the owners of the voices; her gaze was onthe plains, far and vast; and the sky, clear, with a pearly shimmer thatdazzled her. She closed her eyes. She could not have told how long sheslept. She awoke to the light touch of the porter, and she saw Trevisonstanding in the open doorway of the car.
The dust of the battle had been removed. An admiring barber had workedcarefully over him; a doctor had mended his arm. Except for a noticeablethinness of the face, and a certain drawn expression of the eyes, he wasthe same Trevison who had spoken so frankly to her one day out on theplains when he had taken her into his confidence. In the look that he gaveher now was the same frankness, clouded a little, she thought, by someemotion--which she could not fathom.
"I have come to apologize," he said; "for various unjust thoughts withwhich I have been obsessed." Before she could reply he had taken two orthree swift steps and was standing over her, and was speaking again, hisvoice vibrant and regretful: "I ought to have known better than tothink--what I did--of you. I have no excuses to make, except that I wasinsane with a fear that my ten years of labor and lonesomeness were to bewasted. I have just had a talk with Hester Harvey, and she has shown mewhat a fool I have been. She--"
Rosalind got up, laughing lowly, tremulously. "I talked with Hester thismorning. And I think--"
"She told you--" he began, his voice leaping.
"Many things." She looked straight at him, her eyes glowing, but theydrooped under the heat of his. "You don't need to feel elated overit--there were two of us." She felt that the surge of joy that ran overher would have shown in her face had it not been for a sudden recollectionof what the Vigilantes had done that morning. That recollection paled hercheeks and froze the smile on her lips.
He was watching her closely and saw her face harden. A shadow passed overhis own. He thought he could see the hopelessness of staying longer. "Awoman's love," he said, gloomily, "is a wonderful thing. It clings throughtrouble and tragedy--never faltering." She looked at him, startled, tryingto solve the enigma of this speech. He laughed, bitterly. "That's whatmakes a woman superior to mere man. Love exalts her. It makes a savage ofa man. I suppose it is 'good-bye.'" He held out a hand to her and she tookit, holding it limply, looking at him in wonderment, her heart heavy withregret. "I wish you luck and happiness," he said. "Corrigan is a man inspite of--of many faults. You can redeem him; you--"
"_Is_ a man!" Her hand tightened on his; he could feel her tremble."Why--why--I thought--Didn't they--"
"Didn't they tell you? The fools!" He laughed derisively. "They let himgo. They knew I wouldn't want it. They did it for me. He went East on thenoon train--quite alive, I assure you. I am glad of it--for your sake."
"For my sake!" Her voice lifted in mingled joy and derision, and both herhands were squeezing his with a pressure that made his blood leap with alonging to possess her. "For _my_ sake!" she repeated, and the emphasismade him gasp and stiffen. "For _your_ sake--for both of us, Trevison! Oh,what fools we were! What fools all people are, not to trust and believe!"
"What do you mean?" He drew her toward him, roughly, and held her hands ina grip that made her wince. But she looked straight at him in spite of thepain, her eyes brimming with a promise that he could not mistake.
"Can't you _see_?" she said to him, her voice quavering; "_must _ I tellyou?"
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TARZAN THE UNTAMED
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