CHAPTER IX
PATRICIA'S COWBOY LOVER
On Sunday evening Patricia Langdon was alone in the library of herhome, occupying her favorite corner beneath the drop-light. For anhour she had tried in vain to interest herself in the reading of thelatest novel. Try as she might, she could not center her mind upon theprinted words contained in the volume she held, for, inevitably, herthoughts drifted away to the occurrences of the preceding day andevening. No matter how assiduously she endeavored to put thosethoughts aside, they insisted upon looming up before her, and at last,with a sigh, she closed her book and laid it aside. The hour was stillearly, it being barely eight o'clock, when James, the footman, enteredthe room and announced:
"Miss Houston; Miss Frances Houston."
Patricia had fully intended to instruct the servants that she was notto be at home to anyone, that evening, but, absorbed by otherthoughts, she had forgotten to do so, and now it was too late; so shereceived the two young ladies who were presently shown into thelibrary. She greeted them in her usual manner, which was neithercordial, nor repellant, but which was entirely characteristic of thisrather strange young woman. She understood perfectly well why they hadcalled upon her at this time. They had not missed seeing that articlein the one morning paper where it appeared.
"You see, Patricia," exclaimed Miss Houston, whose given name wasAgnes, "Frances and I happened to read that remarkable tale that wasprinted in one of the papers this morning, about a marriage betweenRod Duncan and Beatrice. We thought it so absurd: We couldn't resistthe temptation to come over to see you, for a few minutes this veryevening, and discuss it; could we, Frances?"
"No, indeed," replied her sister.
"I have not seen any such article," said Patricia; and, indeed, shehad not. "But I don't know why either of you should wish to discuss itwith me; so, if you don't mind, we'll change the subject before webegin it."
"Why, you see," began Agnes Houston, with some evidence of excitement;but she was fortunately interrupted by the footman, who entered, andannounced in his automatic voice:
"Mr. Nesbit Farnham."
The workings of the human mind will forever remain a mystery. HadNesbit Farnham been announced before the arrival of the two youngwomen, Patricia would undoubtedly have denied herself to him; but,with the announcement of his name, there came to her the suddenrecollection of the ultimatum pronounced by Richard Morton thepreceding afternoon, when he had brought her home from her father'soffice in his automobile, the tonneau of which had been occupied bythe two young women who were now present with her in the room. Why theannouncement of Farnham's name should remind her of Morton's promiseto call, this Sunday evening, cannot be said; but it did so, and shenodded to James.
"Hello, Patricia!" Farnham exclaimed, as he entered the roomvigorously, for this young society beau and cotillion-leader had longbeen on terms of intimacy with the Langdon household, and was, infact, a privileged character throughout his social set. "I am mightyglad that you received me. It's rather an off night, you know, and Iwasn't sure, at all that you would do so. Good-evening, Agnes. Howare you, Frances? Jolly glad to see you. I say, Patricia, what's allthat nonsense I saw in the paper this morning, about Duncan andBeatrice getting married last night? Do you know anything about it?"
"I know nothing whatever about it, Nesbit, save that it is untrue,"replied Patricia, calmly. "That much I do know; but I don't care todiscuss it."
Farnham flirted his handkerchief from his pocket, and patted it softlyagainst his forehead, smiling gently as he did so. Then, he said:
"To tell you the truth, Patricia, the news was rather a facer, don'tyou know; for my first impulse was to believe it. Oh, I won't discussit; you needn't frown like that; but I just want to tell you that I'vebeen looking all over town for Duncan, and I couldn't find him. Then,about an hour ago, I called upon Beatrice, only to be informed thatshe was not at home, and had not been, ever since yesterday evening.You see, I didn't get out of bed till two this afternoon, and it wasfour by the time I was dressed and on the street. I didn't take muchstock, myself, in the report I read in the paper, until I was toldthat Beatrice had disappeared. But that got me guessing, and so I cameto you, to find out the truth about it. Please tell me again that itisn't true, and I'll be satisfied."
"It isn't true," replied Patricia, calmly.
James, the footman, made another appearance on the scene at thatmoment, and proclaimed the arrival of Mr. Richard Morton, who steppedpassed him into the library as soon as the announcement was made.
He stopped just inside the threshold, and the chagrin pictured uponhis face when he found that Patricia was not alone was so plainlyevident, that even Patricia smiled, in recognition of it. Morton wasknown to Patricia's other callers, having met them frequently sincehis coming to New York, and, as soon as greetings had been exchanged,they all drifted into a general conversation, which had no point to itwhatever, but was, for the most part, the small-talk of such impromptusocial gatherings. The subject of the supposed clandestinemarriage-ceremony between Duncan and Beatrice was not mentioned again,and fifteen minutes later Miss Houston and her sister arose to taketheir departure. Farnham, also, got upon his feet, and, steppinglightly and quickly across the room toward Patricia, said to her in alow tone:
"Won't you tell me where I can find Beatrice? I think you can do so,if you will. Please, Patricia. You know why I ask."
"If you should call upon Sally Gardner and ask her that question, Ithink it would be answered satisfactorily," replied Patricia, smilingat him. "Go and see her, Nesbit, by all means."
A moment later, Miss Langdon found herself alone with Morton, who,true to his promise of the preceding evening, had come to her. She hadforgotten him temporarily, but now she was not sorry that he hadcalled. Nevertheless, as she turned toward him, after bidding herfriends good-night, Patricia was conscious that the atmosphere hadsuddenly became surcharged with portentous possibilities. She hadrecognized in that expression of disappointment, so plainly depictedupon Morton's face when he entered the room, that he had come to herwith a self-avowed determination to continue the conversationinterrupted by the Houston girls when he was bringing her home, thepreceding afternoon. On the instant, she was sorry that she hadpermitted the others to leave her alone with this man. For someinexplicable reason, she was suddenly afraid of him. She who had neveracknowledged fear of any person, who had always met every circumstancecalmly as it arose, found herself confronted now by a condition ofaffairs that rendered her less self-reliant. Her mind was in a turmoilof a hundred doubts and fears, and there was a vague sense ofapprehension upon her, which she could not dismiss, and which shefound it difficult to control.
"I told you that I would come, Patricia, and I am here," said Morton,stepping forward quickly, and taking one of her hands, before shecould resume her seat. She attempted to withdraw it, but he held itfirmly in his own strong clasp; and that expression of unrelentingdetermination was again in his face and eyes.
"No, Patricia," he said calmly, but in a tone of finality which therewas no denying, "I will not release your hand, just yet." He washalf-smiling, but wholly insistent and determined. "You see," he wenton, "I am taking advantage of your known qualities of courage. I havecome to you, determined to say something--something that is very closeto me." Patricia's arm relaxed; she permitted her hand to lie limplyinside his larger one. Then, she raised her eyes to his, and lookedcalmly up at him.
As he gazed steadily and keenly into her dark eyes, Morton's face waspale, under the tan of his skin, and he had the look of one whoventures his all upon a single chance. In that moment, Patriciaadmired him more than she had ever before, and, as he continued togaze upon her, she permitted her features slowly to relax, and,gradually, a winning smile, which to Richard Morton was overwhelming,was revealed upon her lips and in her eyes.
"You have no right to speak to me like that, Mr. Morton," she said."Still less have you the right to hold my hand, against my will. Themen of my acquaintance, with whom I have associate
d all my life, wouldnot do as you are doing now; but"--she shrugged her shoulders--"Isuppose it is a matter of training."
The words were like a blow, although she smiled while she utteredthem. With a sharp exclamation that came very near to being an oath,he threw her hand from him with such force that she was half-turnedaround where she stood, and he started back two paces away from her,and folded his arms.
"Thank you," said Patricia, still smiling; and she crossed to thechair she had previously occupied.
Morton did not move from the position he had assumed. He stood withfolded arms in the middle of the room, staring at her with set faceand hard eyes, wondering for the moment why he had been fool enough togo there at all, and trying to read in her face, what was the charmof her that so fatally attracted him.
"I do a great many things, Miss Langdon, that I have no right to do,"he said, after a pause. "That, also, is a matter of training, as youso fittingly adjudged my conduct, just now. But I was trained in theopen country, where one can see the sky-line toward any point of thecompass; I was trained in the West, where a man is a man, and a womanis a woman, and they are judged only by their conduct toward others,and toward themselves. It is true that I know very little about thisEastern training, to which you have just now called my attention, butfrom what little I have seen of it, I can't believe that it iswholesome, or good. I was trained to tell the truth, and to insistthat the truth be told to me; I find here, in the East, that the truthis the very last thing to be uttered; that it is avoided as long as itpossibly can be. In this way, Miss Langdon, our trainings differ.Naturally, then, I am not like the men of your knowledge."
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Morton, I didn't mean to give offense by whatI said." The girl was more amazed than she cared to show by hisvehemence.
"The fault is mine," he said to her. "I have no right to expect you tomeet me on the plane of my own past life, and with the freedom andcandor of the West, any more than you can demand from me, the usagesand customs of your social world in New York."
"Won't you sit down?" she asked him. She was beginning to be a bituneasy, because of Morton's determined attitude, and because sherealized that nothing she could say or do would turn him from his setpurpose of saying what he had come there to tell her.
"Not yet," he replied. "I can talk much better on my feet. I want youto tell me what you meant by two expressions you used in your speechwith me yesterday, after you came from your father's office."
"We will not return to that subject, if you please, Mr. Morton," shereplied to him, coldly.
"Pardon me, Patricia, we must return to it--at least, I must. Youdon't want me to kill anybody, do you?" He smiled grimly as he askedthe question, hesitatingly; "you need have no fear on that point, forI probably won't have to."
"Probably won't have to kill anyone?" She raised her eyes to his, butthere was no fear in them; there was only amazement in their depths,astonishment that he should dare to say such a thing to her.
"The qualification of my statement was made because I reserve theright to do what I please, toward anyone who dares to bring pain uponyou, Patricia Langdon," he said, incisively; "but I tell you now thatI wouldn't trust myself not to kill--again my Western training isuppermost, you see--if I were brought face to face with any man whohad dared to bring any sort of an affront upon you. Do you love thisman to whom you referred yesterday? Answer me!" The question came outsharply and bluntly. It was totally unexpected, and it affected herwith a sort of shock she could not have described.
"You are impertinent," she replied.
"Impertinent, or not, I desire an answer. If you refuse an answer, Ishall find other means of ascertaining. Great God, girl, do yousuppose that, when my whole life is at stake, I am going to stand onceremony and surrender to a few petty conventions, just to please anelement of false pride that you have built around you, until there isonly one way of getting past it? I'm not the sort of man who standsoutside, and entreats. My training has taught me to get inside; and,if there isn't a gate, or an opening of any sort, why, then I teardown the barrier, just as I am doing now. Do you love that man?"
"I will not answer the question."
He laughed, shortly.
"From any other woman than you, such an answer as that would betantamount to an affirmative; but you are a puzzle, Patricia. You arenot like anybody else. There is a depth to you that I cannot sound.There is a breadth to you that is like the open country of theNorthwest, where one cannot see beyond the sky-line, ever, and wherethe sky-line remains, always, just so far away."
"I think I'll ask you to excuse me, Mr. Morton," she said, making asif to rise. "This interview is not a pleasant one. You are not kind,or considerate."
He did not move from his position, as he replied, as calmly as she hadspoken:
"I shall not go until I have finished. I came here to-night to tellyou, again, that I love you. You need not resent the telling of it,for it can in no way offend you, or, at least, it should not. You toldme, yesterday, that you had agreed to some sort of businesstransaction, as you called it, with some man whom you did not name,by which you are to become his wife. I told you then, and I repeatnow, that, if you will but say you love this man, whoever he is, I'llhit the trail for Montana without a moment's delay, and you shallnever be annoyed again by my Western training; so, answer me."
"I will not answer you." She looked him steadily in the eyes, and, allunconsciously to herself, she could not avoid giving expression tosome small part of the admiration she felt for this daring, intrepidranchman, who defied her so openly, in the library of her own home.
"Who is the man?" he demanded, sharply.
"Again, I will not answer you."
"I shall find it out, then, and, when I have discovered who he is, Ishall go to him. Maybe, he will be able to answer the questions. If herefuses, by God, I'll make him answer!"
She started from her chair, appalled by the implied threat. She didnot doubt that he meant every word of it.
"You would not dare do that!" she exclaimed. It was beyond herknowledge that any man should have the courage so far to transgressconventional usages. But he heard the word "dare," and applied to itthe only meaning he had ever known it to possess. He laughed outright.
"Not dare?" he exclaimed; and he laughed again. "I would dareanything, and all things, in the mood I am in, just now."
Looking upon him, she believed what he said; and, strange to say, shewas more pleased than outraged by his determined demeanor.Nevertheless, she realized that she was face to face with an emergencywhich must be met promptly and finally, and so she left her chair, anddrew herself to her full height, directly in front of him.
"Mr. Morton," she said, slowly, and coldly, "I have had occasion, oncebefore, to refer to your training and to mine. We are as far apart asif we belonged to different races of mankind. If you have really lovedme, which I doubt, I am sorry because of it, for I tell you, plainlyand truly, that I do not, and cannot, respond to you. I have given mypromise to another, and very shortly I shall be married. This suddenpassion for me that has come upon you, is an affair of the moment,which you will soon forget when you become convinced that it isimpossible of fruition. I am the promised wife of another man, andeven your Western training, which you have chosen sarcastically torefer to since I made my unfortunate remark about it, will tell youthat, no matter what rights you believe you possess, you certainlyhave none whatever to compel me to listen to your declaration oflove." Her manner underwent a sudden and marked change, as shecontinued rapidly, with a suggestion of moisture in her eyes: "Believeme, I am intensely sorry for the necessity of this scene between us. Ido not, and I cannot, return the affection you so generously offer me;and, whether I love another, or do not--whether I have ever lovedanother, or have not--it would be the same, so far as you areconcerned. I am not for you, and I can never be for you, no matterwhat may happen." She took a step nearer to him, and reached out herhand, while she added, with her brightest smile: "But I like you, verymuch, indeed. I should
like to have you for a true, good friend. Itwould be one of the proud moments of my life, if I could know that Imight rely upon you as such, and that you would not again transgressin the way you have done to-night. Will you take my hand and be myfriend. Will you try and seek farther for someone who can appreciatethe love you have offered to me? I need a friend just now, RichardMorton. Will you be that friend?"
For a time, he did not answer her. He stood quite still, staring intoher eyes, and through them and seemingly beyond them, while his ownface was hard, and set, and paler than she had ever seen it, before.Presently, his lips relaxed their tension; the expression of his eyessoftened, and he drew his right hand across his brow.
He took the hand that was extended toward him, and held it betweenboth his own, and, for a full minute after that, he stood before herin silence, while he fought the hardest battle of his life. When hedid speak, it was in an easy, careless drawl.
"I reckon you roped and tied me that time, Patricia," he said,smilingly. "You've got your brand on me, all right, but maybe the ironhasn't burnt quite as deep as it does sometimes; and, as you say,possibly there will come a day when we can burn another brand on topof it, so that the first one will never be recognized. Will I be yourfriend? Indeed, I will, and I'll ask you, if you please, to forgiveand forget all my bad manners, and the harsh things I've said."
"It is not necessary to ask me that, Mr. Morton."
"Patricia, if you'll just call me Dick, like all the boys do, out onthe ranch, and if you'll grant me the permission which I have neverasked before, of addressing you as I have just now, it will make thewhole thing a heap-sight easier. Will you do it?
"I'd much rather call you Dick than anything else," she told him,still permitting him to hold her hand clasped between his own.
He bent forward, nearer to her; and, although she perfectly understoodwhat he intended to do, she did not flinch, or falter.
He touched his lips lightly to her forehead, and then, with amuttered, "God bless you, girl!" he turned quickly, and went out ofthe room, leaving Patricia Langdon once again alone with herthoughts.
The Last Woman Page 9
