CHAPTER XVI
INVOLVING BETH
Goldite to the Eastern girl, who had found herself practicallyabandoned for nearly a week, had proved to be a mixture of discomforts,excitements, and disturbing elements. Fascinated by the maelstrom ofthe mining-camp life, and unwilling to retreat from the scene until sheshould see her roving brother, and gratify at least a curiosityconcerning Van, she nevertheless felt afraid to be there, not only onaccount of the roughness and uncertainty of the existence, but alsobecause, despite herself, she had attracted undesirable attention.Moreover, the house was full of "gentlemen" lodgers, with three of whomElsa was conducting most violent flirtations.
There were few respectable women in the town. It was still too earlyfor their advent. Beth had been annoyed past all endurance. There wasno possibility of even mild social diversions; there was no one tovisit. While the street could be described as perfectly safe, it wasnevertheless an uncomfortable place in which to walk. Bostwick's carhad been recovered and brought into camp, but skilled as she was at thesteering wheel, she had hardly desired or dared to take it out.
Crime was frequent in the streets and houses. Disturbing reports ofmarauding expeditions on the part of the convicts, still at large, camewith insistent frequency. Altogether the week had been a trial to hernerves. It had also been a vexation. No man had a right, she toldherself, to do and say the things that Van had said and done, only togo off, without so much as a little good-by and give no further sign.She told herself she had a right to at least some sort of opportunityto tender her honest congratulations. She had heard of his claim--the"Laughing Water"--and perhaps she wished to know how it chanced to havethis particular name. If certain disturbing reflections anent thatwoman who had run to him wildly, out in the street, came mistilyclouding the estimate she tried to place upon his character, sheconfessed he certainly had the right to make an explanation. In apurely feminine manner she argued that she had the right to some suchexplanation--if only because of certain liberties he had taken with herhands--on which memories still warmly burned.
Wholly undecided as to what she would do if she could, and impatientwith Bostwick for his sheer neglect in searching out her brother, shewas thoroughly glad to see him to-day when he came so unannounced tothe house.
"Well if you don't look like a mountaineer!" she said, as she met himin the dining-room, which was likewise the parlor of the place. "Wherein the world have you been, all this time? You haven't come backwithout Glen?"
He had gone away ostensibly to find her brother.
"Well, the fact is he wasn't where I went, after all," he said. "Ihastened home, after all that trip, undertaken for nothing, and found aletter from him here. I've come at once to have an important talk."
"A letter?" she cried. "Let me see it--let me read it, please.He's--where? He's well? He's successful?"
"Sit down," answered Bostwick, taking a chair and placing his hat onthe table. "There's a good deal to say. But first, how have you beenhere, all alone?"
"Oh--very well--I suppose," she answered, restraining the naturalresentment she felt at his patent neglect. "It isn't exactly the placeI'd choose to remain in, alone all the time."
"Poor little girl, I've been thinking of that," he told her, reachingacross the table to take her hands. "It's worried me, Beth, worried megreatly--your unprotected position, and all that."
"Oh, you needn't worry." She withdrew her hands. Someway it seemed asacrilege for him to touch them--it was not to be borne--she hardlyknew why, or since when. "I want to know about Glen," she added."Never mind me."
"But I do mind," he assured her. His hand was trembling. "Beth, I--Ican't talk much--I mean romantic talk, and all that, but--well--I'veabout concluded we ought to be married at once--for your sake--yourprotection--and my peace of mind. I have thought about it ever since Ileft you here alone."
The brightness expressive of the gayety of her nature departed from hereyes. She looked fixedly at the man's dark face, with its gray,deep-set, penetrative eyes, its bluish jaw, and knitted brows. Itfrightened her, someway, as it never had before. He had magnetized heralways--sometimes more than now, but his influence crept upon hersubtly even here.
"But I--I think I'd rather not--just yet," she faltered, crimsoning anddropping her gaze to the table. "You promised not to--to urge meagain--at least till I've spoken to Glen."
"But I could not have known--forseen these conditions," he told her,leaning further towards her across the table. "Why shouldn't we bemarried now--at once? A six months' engagement is certainly longenough. Your position here is--well--almost dubious. You must seethat. It isn't right of me--decent--not to make you my wifeimmediately. I wish to do so--I wish it very much."
She arose, as if to wrench herself free from the spell he was castingupon her.
"I'm all right--I'm quite all right," she said. "I'd rather not--justnow. There's no one here who cares a penny who or what I am. If myposition here is misunderstood--it can do no harm. I'd rather youwouldn't say anything further about it--just at present."
Her agitation did not escape him. If he thought of the horseman whohad carried her off while sending himself to the convicts, his plan forvengeance only deepened.
"You must have some reason for refusing." He too arose.
"No--no particular reason," she answered, artlessly walking around thetable, apparently to pick up a button from the floor, but actually toavoid his contact. "I just don't wish to--to be marriednow--here--that's all. I ask you to keep your promise--not to ask itwhile we remain."
He had feared to lose her a score of times before. He feared it nowmore potently than ever. And there was much that he must ask. Therisk of giving her a fright was not to be incurred.
"Very well," he said resignedly, "but--it's very hard to wait."
"Won't you sit down?" she asked him, an impulse of gratitude upon her."Now do be good and sensible, and tell me all about Glen."
She returned to the table and resumed her seat.
Bostwick sat opposite and drew his forged letter from his pocket. Hehad placed it in Glenmore's envelope after tearing the young man'sletter into scraps.
"This letter," said he, "was sent from way down in the desert--fromStarlight, another new camp. It looks to me as if the boy has strucksomething very important. I'll read you what he says--or you can readit for yourself."
"No, no--read it. I'd rather listen."
He read it haltingly, as one who puzzles over unfamiliar writing. Itseffect sank in the deeper for the method. Beth was open-eyed withwonder, admiration, and delight over all that Glen had done and wasabout to accomplish. She rose to the bait with sisterly eagerness.
"Why, he _must_ have the chance--he's _got_ to have the chance!" shecried excitedly. "What do you think of it yourself?"
Bostwick fanned the blaze with conservatism.
"It's quite a sum of money and Glen might overestimate the value of themine. I've inquired around and learn that the property is consideredtremendously promising. If we--if he actually secures that claim itwill doubtless mean a for---- I don't like to lose my sense ofjudgment, but I do want to help the boy along. Frankly, however, Idon't see how I can let him have so much. I couldn't possibly send himbut thirty thousand dollars at the most."
Beth's eyes were blazing with excitement. She had never dreamed thatSearle could be so generous--so splendid. An impulse of gratitude andadmiration surged throughout her being.
"You'd _do_ it?" she said. "You'll do as much as that for Glen?"
"Why, how can I do less?" he answered. "That claim will doubtless beworth half a million, maybe more--if all I hear is reliable--and I getit from disinterested parties. The boy has done a good big thing.I've got to help him out. It seems too bad to offer him only half ofwhat he needs, but I'm not a very wealthy man. I can't be utterlyQuixotic. We've all got to help him all we can."
"Oh, thank you, Searle--thank you for saying 'we,'" she said in a voicet
hat slightly trembled. "I'm glad of the chance--glad to show dearGlen that a sister can help a little, too."
He stared at her with an excellent imitation of surprise in his gaze.
"You'll--help?" he said in astonishment, masterfully simulated. "Notwith the other thirty thousand?"
"Why not?" she cried. "Why not, when Glen has the chance of his life?You don't really think I'd hesitate?"
"But," said he, leading her onward, "he needs the money now--at once.You'd have to get it here by wire, and all that sort of trouble."
"Then we'd better get things started," she said. "You'll help me,Searle, I'm sure."
"If you wish it," said Bostwick, "certainly."
"Dear Glen!" she said. "Dear boy! I'll write him a letter at once."
Bostwick started, alertly, as she ran in her girlish pleasure to astand where she had placed her materials for writing.
"Good," he commented drily, "I'll mail it with one of my own."
She dashed off a bright effusion with all her spontaneous enthusiasm.Bostwick supplied her with the address, and presently took the letterin his hand. He had much to do at the bank, he informed her, by way ofpreparing for the deal. He promised to return when he could.
On his way down street be deliberately tore the letter to the smallestof fragments and scattered them widely on the wind.