Beth Norvell: A Romance of the West

by Randall Parrish

  CHAPTER XXIV

  AN AVOWAL OF LOVE

  Winston sat gazing at the delicate contour of her face, partiallyturned away from him, the long, silken lashes shading eyes lowered uponthe floor. A single gleam of the westering sun rested in golden beautyacross her dark hair, stirred by the slight breeze blowing through theopen window. In the silence he could hear his heart beat, anddistinguish the faint sound of her breathing. She was the first tospeak, yet without moving her head.

  "Is it true that you are now under arrest?" she questioned, her voicescarcely audible.

  "Technically yes, although, as you may perceive, the sheriff ispowerless to prevent an escape if I desired to attempt one."

  "Is it because of that--that charge he made?"

  He arose to his feet in brave attempt at self-control.

  "Oh, no, certainly not! I think that was merely a threat, a cowardlythreat, utterly without provocation, without purpose, unless he soughtin that way to work you a serious injury. The real charge against meis murder. It appears that the man I fought with in the mine laterdied from his injuries."

  She turned both face and body toward him, her eyes filled with agony.

  "The man died? Will it be possible for you to prove yourself innocent?"

  "It may be possible, but it does not appear easy. I hope to show thatall I did was in self-defence. I did not strike the man a deadly blow;in the struggle he fell and was injured on the sharp rocks. In everysense his death was unintentional, yet there is nothing to sustain mebut my own testimony. But I shall not flee from the issue. If I havetaken human life I will abide the judgment. God knows I never dreamedof killing the man; never once supposed him seriously injured. You, atleast, believe this?"

  "I believe all you tell me."

  The man's grasp on the casing of the window tightened, his eyes uponthe mass of black hair.

  "Strangely enough," he continued, "this whole affair has gone wrongfrom the start; nothing has turned out in the natural way. Criminalshave been made into officers of the law, and honest men changed intooutlaws. Now it seems impossible to conjecture how the adventure willterminate."

  She sat looking up at him, scarcely seeing his face, her hands claspedin her lap.

  "'All the world 's a stage, and all the men and women merely players,'"she said, quoting the familiar words as if in a dream. "We are suchpuppets in the great play! How strange it all is! How dangerouslyclose real life is, always skirting the precipice of tragedy! Plansfail, lines tangle, and lives are changed forever by events seeminglyinsignificant. To-morrow is always mystery. I wonder, is it not a dimconsciousness of this that renders the stage so attractive to themultitude? Even its burlesques, its lurid melodramas, are neverutterly beyond the possible. Everywhere are found stranger storiesthan any romancer can invent; and yet we sometimes term our livescommonplace." She leaned back against the wall, a sob coming into hervoice. "What--what is going to be the end of this--for me?"

  "Whatever you will," he exclaimed passionately, forgetful of all buther power over him. "It is you who must choose."

  "Yes, it is I who must choose," her face still uplifted. "Because I amnot a leaf to float on the air, my destiny decided by a breath of wind,I must choose; yet how can I know I decide rightly? When heart andconscience stand opposed, any decision means sacrifice and pain. Imeant those hasty words wrung out of me in shame, and spoken yonder; Imeant them then, and yet they haunt me like so many sheeted ghosts.'Tis not their untruth, but the thought will not down that the realcause of their utterance was not the wrong done me. It had otherbirth."

  "In what?"

  She did not in the least hesitate to answer, her eyes clear and honestupon his own.

  "In my love for you," she answered, quietly, her cheeks reddening tothe frank avowal.

  He grasped her hands, drawing her, unresisting, toward him.

  "You confess this to me?"

  "Yes, to you; but to you only because I trust you, because I know youas an honorable man," she said, speaking with an earnest simplicityirresistible. "I am not ashamed of the truth, not afraid toacknowledge it frankly. If there be wrong in this; that wrong hasalready been accomplished; the mere uttering of it cannot harm eitherof us. We know the fact without words. I love you; with all my heartI love you. I can say this to you here in the silence, yet I could notspeak it openly before the world. Why? Because such love is wrong?Under God I do not know; only, the world would misunderstand, wouldquestion my motives, would misjudge my faith. By the code I am not themistress of my heart; it has been legally surrendered. But you willnot misjudge, or question. If I could not trust, I could not love you;I do both. Now and here, I put my hands in yours, I place my life, myconscience, in your keeping. For good or evil, for heaven or hell, Iyield to you my faith. Tell me what I am utterly unable to decide formyself alone: What is my duty, the duty of a woman situated as I am?"

  He held her hands still, crushing them within his own, yet the color,the hope which had brightened his face, faded. A moment the two satsilent, their eyes meeting, searching the depths.

  "Beth," he asked at last, "is this right?"

  "Is what right?"

  "That you should cast such a burden upon me. I told you I could not beyour conscience. All my desire, all my hope tends in one direction.That which to you appears wrong, to me seems the only right course. Myheart responded eagerly to every word of renunciation spoken out therein your indignation. They were just and true. They gave me courage tobelieve the battle was over; that in soul and heart you were at lastfree."

  She lowered her eyes in confusion to the floor, her bosom rising andfalling to quick breathing.

  "And now you discover me hesitating, undecided," she whispered, herlips trembling. "I know I am; there are moments when I hold myselfunworthy of love. Yet believe me, I am honest, sincere, unselfish inall my thought regarding you. Perhaps the trouble is that I knowmyself, my nature, far too well; I dare not trust it to bring youhappiness, unless I can come to you with unsullied conscience."

  "Is it thought of divorce which yet remains so repugnant?"

  She glanced up into his questioning face, her own cheeks flushing.

  "I shrink from it in actual pain," she confessed, in instant frankness."My whole nature revolts. Believe me, I am not blind, not insensible;I recognize the truth--all you would tell me--of the inalienable rightsof womanhood. Neglect, distrust, brutality, open insult have all beenmy portion. The thousands all over the world accept these as worthyreasons for breaking their marriage vows. But can I? Can I who haveever condemned those others for doing so? Can I, who have ever heldthat sacrament to be sacred and enduring? And I realize that thetemptation has not come because of the wrongs done to me. He has beenall this before, many, many times, yet I have remained true and loyal,not questioning my duty. It is the birth of a new love--God aloneknows if I should say a guilty love--which has thus changed me, whichhas brought to my mind dreams of release. I pray you, try tounderstand me! How could happiness ever prove my portion, or yoursthrough me, while such questionings continued to haunt my soul likeghosts?"

  He released her clinging hands, turning away from her, his eyes staringunseeing out of the window. A moment she continued looking at him, herdry eyes anxiously pleading. Then she buried her face within her handsand waited, her whole body trembling. Twice Winston sought to speak,before sufficient courage came to him to allow of his turning back, andlooking down upon her bowed figure.

  "Beth," he said at last, his struggle revealed in his voice, "I shouldnot be worthy that love you have given me so unreservedly, did I stoopnow to its abuse. I could never forgive myself were I to urge you todo that which your conscience so clearly condemns. To me there is amarriage far more sacred and enduring than any witnessed by man, orsolemnized by formal service--the secret union of hearts. We are onein this, and nothing can ever come between us. Then let all else wait;let it wait until God shall open a way along which we may walk inhono
r. Mutual sacrifice can never make us any less dear to each other.This condition may serve to separate us for a while, yet I believe thepath will open, and that you will learn to perceive your duty from abroader view-point--one that will permit you to find happiness in truelove, unhaunted by any memory of the false."

  She arose slowly to her feet, the tears clinging to her lashes, bothhands outstretched.

  "Oh, I thank you! I thank you!" she exclaimed with deep fervor."Those words prove you all I ever believed you to be. They give mehope, courage, patience to remain true to myself, true to my lifelongideals of womanhood. I am certain you trust me, comprehend my motives,and will think no less of me because of my unwillingness to forfeit aconception of right. He is absolutely nothing to me--nothing. Henever could be. There are times when I feel that his death even couldnot fitly atone for the evil he has wrought me. Never again will hisinfluence touch my life to change its purpose. It is not he that keepsus apart; it is a solemn, sacred pledge made by a trusting girl inGod's presence--a pledge I cannot forget, cannot break withoutforfeiting my self-respect, my honor."

  He drew her gently to him, his eyes no longer filled with passion, yetcontaining a depth of love that left her helpless to resist his will.

  "Beth, dear," he whispered, his lips almost pressing her cheek, "I willnot think of him, but only of you. If you love me I am content. Themere knowledge itself is happiness. Tell me once again that this istrue."

  "It is true, forever true; I love you."

  "May I have for this one time the pledge of your lips?"

  A single instant she seemed to hesitate, her cheeks flushing hotly, herdark eyes lowered before his. But she lifted her face, and their lipsmet and clung, as though parting must be forever. Amid the closelygathering shadows he led her back to the vacated stool, and stoodbeside her, gently stroking the soft dark hair of the bowed head.

  "You have plans?" he questioned quietly. "You have decided how you areto live while we await each other?"

  "Yes," half timidly, as though fearful he might oppose her decision."I believe I had better return to my work upon the stage." She glancedup at him anxiously. "You do not care, do you? It seems to me I ambest fitted for that; I have ambition to succeed, and--and it affordsme something worthy to think about."

  "I recall you said once it would be a poor love which should interferewith the ideals of another."

  "Yes, I remember. How long ago that seems, and what a change has sincecome over my conceptions of the power of love! I believe it still, yetin so different a way. Now I would surrender gladly all ambition, alldream of worldly success, merely to fee alone with the man I love, andbring him happiness. That--that is all I want; it is everything."

  "And some day it shall be yours," he declared stoutly. "Some day whenyou comprehend that divorce is not always the evil that some delight toproclaim it; some day when you realize that it must be a far greatersin to wreck irretrievably your own life for a brute than to breakthose man-made bonds which bind you to him. It cannot be long untilyou learn this, for all nature condemns so unholy an alliance. Untilthen let it be the stage; only I ask you to strive for the very best itoffers. Have confidence in yourself, little girl, in your ability,your power, your spark of genius touched by suffering. Every hour youpass now in hideous, misshapen melodrama is worse than wasted. Youhave that within you well worthy of better setting, nobler environment,and you wrong yourself to remain content with less. You are mine nowwherever you go, whatever triumphs you win; mine in spite of the law,because I possess your heart. I should doubt myself far sooner thanever question your loyalty. I can lend you to the stage for awhile--until I come for you in that glad hour when your lips shall bidme--but in the meantime I want you to be true to yourself, to thespirit of art within you. I want you to accomplish the highestpurposes of your dreams; to interpret that in life which is worthy ofinterpretation."

  "You believe I can?"

  "I know you can. Never from that first night, when I stood in thewings and watched, have I ever questioned the possibilities of yourfuture. You have art, emotion, depth of true feeling, application, aclear understanding of character--all that ever made any actress great.I love you, Beth; yet mine is a love too unselfish not to tell you thistruth and stand aside rather than block your future."

  She lifted her eyes to him, now cleared of their tears, and shiningwith eagerness.

  "I will do all you say," she said earnestly, "do it because I love you.It shall not be for the people, the applause, the glitter and display,but alone for you. Whenever a triumph comes to me, I shall meet itwhispering your name in my heart, knowing that you rejoice because I amproving worthy of your faith. It will be as if we worked together; thememory must help to make us both strong."

  He bent lower, drew her closer to him, and held her thus in silence.

  "Yes," he spoke at last, as though in thought, "I shall try to rememberand be patient, so long as you feel it must be so."

  They were sitting there still, the barest glimmer of twilightbrightening the window above, their hands clasped, when Mercedes cameback, overflowing with light-heartedness.

  "Si, si, sure I did eet," she announced happily, dancing forward intothe centre of the darkened room, and seemingly blind to the two beforeher. "Eet ees I that am to ride. _Bueno_! eet vill be mooch fun!Senor Brown he not like let me go; he tink I do all eet for him. Oh,de conceit of de men, ven I care not for anyting but de fun, de goodtime! But I talk him long vile, an' Beell he talk, an' maybe he say_si_ for to git us rid of. Tink you not eet vas so, senor?"