CHAPTER XVIII
In the calendar of love days count as weeks, months as years; but,though the following week conformed to this universal law, Seyd managedto extract from its laggard hours his modicum of joy. Following themules on two trips between the mine and station he lived in a glow offeeling, the natural reaction of his late despair. By turns relief, joy,hope governed his reflections, finally uniting in optimism that drownedhis customary caution. Whereas only a week ago he had begun to plan fora trip home to California to raise money to meet their first note he nowdetermined to put it off until he should have seen Don Luis, and then,if necessary, send Billy.
"I'll call on him immediately after the funeral," he said, talking itover with Billy. "If he demands his pound of flesh there'll still betime for you to go north."
This settled, he had gone about his business in happier mood than he hadknown for many a year. It seemed to him as if the tangled run of hislife was beginning to unfold straight and plain. But while he worked,the evil fates which had made such a ravel in his personal skein wereequally busy inventing fresh tangles. On the day that saw at once thedelivery of the last piece of machinery and the arrival of the firstseasonal rain Sebastien and Francesca joined battle at the El Quisshacienda.
Until, the morning after the funeral, Sebastien called her aside tothank her for her care of his mother she had shown him only the sympathydue his sorrow. But under it resentment still smoldered, and it wasfanned to a flame by his accidental expression.
"It was the kinder because I had forced you away. If I can make anyreturn--"
"You can." She filled his pause. "During the last six months I had timefor reflection, and the more I thought of it the more I wondered atmyself for my easy yielding to your will. It is not that I was unwillingto do that or more for your mother. But to be sent away like a naughtyschool girl under a solemn vow against correspondence--"
"The price of your consent, you remember, was the gringo's life?" Hiseye lit with the old saturnine sparkle. "As you see, he still cumbersgood Mexican earth."
"You dared not have harmed him in any case."
"No?"
"No." She met without flinching his look of sarcastic interrogation."Porfirio Diaz will not stand for the killing of _Americanos_. As youwell know, Sebastien, he would surely have hunted you down."
"If there had been any to tell? Even your folly would hardly have arisento that."
"'Twould not have been necessary. If I had warned him, placed yourthreat on record with his friends, 'twere sufficient. If not, there isstill another argument that would have held you."
"And that?"
"The sure knowledge that I would hate you forever."
"Good reasons, both of them." He shrugged. "But you overlook the fact,my cousin, that a whisper in the ear of the good uncle would have takenthe matter out of my hands."
"That would not have cleared you--with me. Now listen, Sebastien. Iyielded because at the time it seemed the only way, and after I realizedmy folly I still lived up to my promise. But now I give you warning.Henceforth I shall not permit your interference in my affairs."
"Your love affairs?"
"_Bueno!_" Looking him straight in the eye, she accepted the correction."My _love_ affairs."
"It will not be necessary."
Instead of the violent outburst she expected he stood looking at her, inhis eyes a peculiar light half of pity, half vindictive. A triflenonplussed, she returned his gaze. Perhaps, with feminine inconsistency,she was not altogether pleased by his tame acceptance, for her colorrose and one small foot tapped the polished floor tiles. "I am glad youtake it so reasonably."
Again he failed with the expected outburst, and her uneasiness grew incorrespondence with the pity in his glance. "You mistake me. I said itwould be unnecessary. Read!"
He turned and went out, a mercy she appreciated when, after a puzzledglance at the paper he had stolen from Peters, her eye was guided by theheavy ink scorings to the article that set forth Seyd's divorce. Atfirst she hardly realized its import. But when she did--surely the handthat guided the pen had achieved revenge far beyond its owner's blackesthope! Going out, Sebastien heard the paper crackle. Looking back, he sawher standing frozen, eyes wide and black in her mute white face; and,stricken with sudden pity, he softly closed the door.
But he did not go away. He knew her too well. Given her wild Irish bloodplus her Spanish pride there could come but one result, and while shestruggled toward it within he paced the _corredor_ without. When at lastshe opened the door and came on him there he knew that he had won by thescorn that set her soft mouth in straight red lines. In the dusk of the_corredor_ her face loomed, pale and drawn, the eyes red and swollen.But when she saw the deep pity in his stern eyes her own lost somethingof their hardness.
"You were always kind--and wise." Her mouth quivering, she gave him bothhands. "'Twould have made for my good had I listened to you more."
For him it was a perilous moment. The touch of her hands aroused anintense desire to seize and comfort her with kisses. Had he given way toit she would have surely been shocked out of the resolution that hadbeen born of her anger and shame. But the habit of years enabled him tokeep the impulse under restraint. She went quietly to the end.
"I am very grateful--I would like to make some return. If we had notgrown up together I should no doubt have loved you from the beginning inthe way you wished, for you are closer to the man of my girlish dreamsthan any other I have ever known." She smiled wanly. "He does not exist,my dream man, or, if he did, what use could he have for such a wild,naughty girl as I? So, if you still want me--"
"Want you!" He would have drawn her to him, but she pulled back.
"Not yet! I like you, have always loved you--in a sisterly way. I musthave time to change my viewpoint. Give me a month?"
"And then--"
"If you still wish it I will be your wife."