The Forfeit

by Ridgwell Cullum

  CHAPTER XI

  ELVINE VAN BLOOREN

  It was the last day of the Cattle Week. A week which, for at leastthree people, was fraught with something in the nature of epoch-makingevents. All that the simple heart of Nan Tristram had looked forwardto, yearned for, had been denied her from the first moment she hadbeheld that unmistakable lightening up of Jeff's eyes on his meetingwith Elvine van Blooren. It had been a revelation of dread. Her ownsecret hopes had been set shaking to their very foundations. And fromthat moment on, during the rest of the week, brick by brick the wholeedifice of them had been set tumbling. By the last day nothing but apile of debris remained.

  Holiday! It had been a good deal less than holiday. She had lookedforward to one all too brief succession of days of delight. Jeff, whohad been honored by his fellows in the world which was theirs. Jeff,the leader in the great industry which absorbed them all. Jeff, theman by his very temperament marked out for a worldly success onlybounded by the limitations of his personal ambitions. She had been soproud of him. She had been so thankful to be allowed to share in histriumphs. She had shared in them, too--up till that meeting withElvine van Blooren at the reception. After that--ah, well, there hadbeen very little after for Nan.

  And the man himself. Four days had sufficed to reduce Jeff's feelingsto a condition of love-sickness such as is best associated with extremeyouth. Furthermore its hold upon him was deeper, more lasting byreason of the innate strength of his character.

  As for Elvine van Blooren it would be less easy to say. Her beauty wasof a darkly reticent order. Hers was the face, the eyes, the manneryielding up few secrets. She rarely imparted confidence even to hermother. And a woman who denies her mother rarely yields confidence toany other human creature.

  Perhaps in her case, however, she had good reason. Mrs. John D.Carruthers, who possessed a simple erudite professor for a husband, aman who possessed no worldly ambitions of any sort, and who readilyaccepted his pension from the trustees of St. Bude's College at theearliest date, so that he might devote all his riper years to theprosecution of his passion for classical research, was a painfulexample of worldliness, and a woman who regarded position and wealthbefore all things. There was little enough sympathy between mother anddaughter. Mrs. John D. Carruthers only saw in Elvine's unusual beautyan asset in her schemes of advancement. While Elvine displayed a colddisregard for the older woman's efforts, and went her own way.

  Elvine was strong, even as Jeffrey Masters was strong. But while theman's strength lay in the single purpose of achievement, Elvine lookedfor the ease and luxury which life could legitimately afford her.Elvine and her mother possessed far too much in common ever to havesympathy for one another.

  It was this very attitude which inspired an acrimonious half hour inthe somewhat pretentious parlor on Maple Avenue just before Jeff was topay his farewell call at the close of the Cattle Week.

  Elvine was occupied with a small note-book on the| pages of which therewere many figures. With a small gold pencil she was working out sums,which, apparently, were solely for her own edification. Shecommunicated nothing to her mother, who covertly glanced over at herfrom the fancy work she was engaged upon at the far side of the room.

  The room was such as might be found in any of the better middle-classhouses in a western city. Its furnishing was a trifle ornate.Comfortable chairs predominated, and their woodwork shone with anextreme lustre, or were equally aggressive in their modern fictitiousMission House style. The carpet and rugs were broadly floral andbright. There was altogether a modernity about the character of itwhich decidedly belonged to the gray-haired showiness of the wife ofJohn Carruthers. For all that, there was nothing absolutely untastefulabout Elvine's surroundings. The daughter would never have permittedsuch a thing. It was only modern, extremely modern. That type ofmodern which belongs to those homes where money is a carefulconsideration.

  At last Elvine closed her note-book and returned it to the rather largepocketbook which was lying in her lap. Her fine eyes were halfsmiling, and a faint tinge of color deepened her perfect cheeks. Shesighed.

  "We didn't do so badly at the races, Momma," she said, more for her ownsatisfaction than her mother's information. "Guess I've got most allof it in and--I'm satisfied."

  "Maybe you are, my dear," came the ungracious response.

  Her mother was bending over her work, nor did she trouble to raise hereyes in her daughter's direction.

  "That sounds as if somebody else wasn't."

  Elvine raised a pair of beautifully rounded arms above her head andrested the back of her neck upon her clasped hands.

  The gray head was lifted sharply. A pair of brilliant black eyes shota disapproving glance across the room. Then the mother continued herwork, shaking her head emphatically.

  "What's the use of a few dollars? He's going back to his ranchto-morrow, and--nothing's happened."

  There was something crude, almost brutal in the manner of it. Therewas something which on a woman's lips might well have revolted any man.But it was an attitude to which the daughter was used. Besides, itsaved her any qualms she might otherwise have had in pursuing her ownway under the shelter of her mother's roof.

  "I really can't see what you've to complain of, Momma," Elvine laughed,without any display of mirth. "I guess if you wanted to marry a manyou'd leave him about as much chance as he'd have with a wildcat."Then her smile died out. "Anyway it doesn't seem to be a matter forother folk to concern themselves with. I'm not a child."

  "No. But you're going to throw away the chance of a lifetime if youdon't act right now. Why, girl, Jeff Masters is the pick of the wholebunch of cattlemen around this district. He's going to be one of thecattle kings of the country, or I don't guess I know a thing. He'sright here to your hand, and as tame as a lap-dog. To-morrow he's offagain to the ranch, and that girl of his partner's will have him toherself for a year. Why, you're crazy to let him go. Four yearsyou've lived here since--since----"

  "I wish you'd stop worrying, Momma--and," the girl added withunconcealed resentment, "get on with your knitting."

  Elvine had risen to her feet. She moved swiftly over to the windowwhich gave on to a wide stoop, the roof of which was supported onwell-built rag stone columns. She was more angry than her wordsadmitted. Her fine eyes were sparkling, her delicately penciled browswere slightly knitted.

  She made a handsome picture. Her wealth of dark hair was carefullydressed, but with the usual consummate simplicity. Her figure wassuperb, with all the ripeness of maturity, but without the smallestinclination toward any gross development. She was statuesque, with allthe perfect cunning of Nature's art. She was a woman to find favor inany eyes, man's or woman's, and to perform that dual feat was a testwhich few women could hope to survive.

  The mother's reply came sharply and without yielding.

  "It's just four years since you came back to home. Five or more sinceyou first married. Anyway, you've sat around here for four yearshaving a good time without a thought of the future. You're spendingyour money, which didn't amount to----"

  The girl flashed round.

  "I won't tolerate it. I just won't, Momma," she cried, with an energywhich brought the other's eyes swiftly to her face. "You've talked offour years wasted, but you don't say a word of the other year, thefifth. It's taken me all that time to--forget what your judgment mighthave saved me from. Oh, yes. You know it just as well as I do. Don'tblind yourself. I was foolish then, I thought I was in love, and itwas the moment when the advice of a woman worth having might havehelped me. You urged me in my folly to marry then, the same as you'reurging me now. You saw everything you hoped for in that marriage, andyou let me plunge myself into a living hell without a single qualm.The result. Oh, I've tried to forget. But I can't I haven'tforgotten. I never shall forget. But I've learned. I certainly have.I've learned to think wholly for myself--of myself. I don't needadvice now. I don't need a thing. You'll never see things my
way, andI don't fancy to see them yours. I shall marry. And when I marryagain I promise you I'll marry right, and," she laughed bitterly, "Iguess I'll hand you the rake off which you're looking for. But," shewent on, with a swift, ruthless candor which stung even the worldlyheart of the older woman, "I'll make no experimental practice. I'llmarry the man I want to, first because I like him, and second, becausehe's a right man, and can hand me the life I need. Maybe that's prettyhard sounding, but I tell you, Momma, it's nothing to the hardness thatmakes you talk the way you do. Anyway, I want you to get it fixed inyour mind right now I'm no priceless gem in a jewelry store that you'regoing to sell at the price you figure. I'll dispose of myself when,and to whom, I choose, and my motives will be my own. Now we'll quitit, once for all. Jeffrey Masters is coming right along down thesidewalk."

  The mother's black eyes snapped angrily.

  "Very well," she exclaimed sharply. "See to it you make good. Yourfather's pension isn't even sufficient for two, and your own money islimited. Meanwhile, don't forget the Tristram girl's just as pretty asa picture."

  But Elvine's exasperation had passed. There was a slight softening inher eyes as they surveyed the handsome, elaborately dressed gray headand the careful toilet of her unlovely mother. She understood thebitter carping of this disappointed woman. Her spirit soared farbeyond the lot of the wife of a pensioned school-teacher. She knew,too, that somewhere, lost in some dim recess of a coldly calculatingnature, there was a tiny, glowing spot which burned wholly for her.

  There was an unusual softness in her tone when she replied.

  "But she needs framing, Momma," she said lightly. "And anyway, a girlwho lives more or less on the premises with a man for five years or so,and hasn't married him--well, I guess she never will."

  * * * * * *

  The whole method of Jeff's life was rapidity of thought and swiftexecution supported by a perfect genius for clear thinking. It wasthese characteristics which had lifted him so rapidly in the world ofcattle he had made his own. It was these which had shown him thepossibilities of the now great Obar Ranch.

  It might have been claimed for him that he lacked many of the lovableweaknesses of human nature. It might have been said that he was hard,cold. Yet such was his passionate ambition beneath a cool, deliberateexterior that it would have been foolish to believe that his outwarddisplay was the real man. He was perhaps a powerfully controlled fire,but the hot tide ran strong within him, and the right torch at theright moment might easily stir the depths of him and bring their fierydisplay to the surface.

  Bud knew him. Bud understood something of the deep human tide flowingthrough his strong veins. Once he had seen that tide at the surface,and it had left an impression not easily forgettable. Nan, too, wasnot without understanding of him. But hers was the understanding ofher sex for an idol she had set up in her heart. Her knowledge of hisshortcomings and his best characteristics was perhaps the reflection ofher feelings for him, feelings which make it possible for a woman toendow any object of her profound regard with the virtues she would haveit possess. To her there was nothing of the iron, relentless,purposeful soul about him. He was just "Honest Jeff," as she loved tocall him. A creature full of kindly thought for others as well asstrong in his own personal attitude toward life.

  For himself Jeff knew nothing of the emotions lying dormant within himuntil some chance happening stirred them from their slumbers and sentthem pulsating through his senses. He accepted the tide of life as hefound it, and only on his journey, swimming down its many currents, heendeavored by skilful pilotship to avoid the shoals, and seek thebeneficent backwaters so that his muscles and courage might bestrengthened for the completion of the task he had still before him.

  Elvine van Blooren had held the right torch at their first meetingduring the Cattle Week. One look into her beautiful eyes had set hissoul aflame, as all the years of his life spent in association with NanTristram had failed to do. Did she only know it, the first waltz withhim at the subsequent ball had completely made her mistress of hisdestiny.

  Again with his rapid, clear-thinking mind he had not only promptlyadmitted this truth to himself, but he reveled in the enchantment ofthe thought it inspired. He desired it. He regretted only thatfortune had so long denied him the contemplation of such delights. Hefelt he had never before lived. He had merely existed, something morethan a physical and mental machine, something less than a man.

  Something of all this stimulated his sensations during that ostensiblefarewell call upon the woman who had inspired the change. And, as hishungry eyes dwelt upon her great beauty, he became a prey to an impulsethat was irresistible. Why should this be a farewell? Why shouldthere ever be a farewell between them? There could be none. Then, tohis support came that steady determination which never failed him incrises. There should be no farewell.

  He was clad in sober conventional garb. There was only the bronzingupon his fair brow and firm cheeks to suggest the open air life thatwas his. His slim, powerful figure was full of an ease which caughtand held, and pleased Elvine van Blooren's fancy, and awoke in her morematerial mind something of the dreams which had driven her almostunthinkingly into the arms of her first husband. His fine blue eyeswere alight with possibilities which came near to overbalancing thecalculations of her mature mind. But, even so, she felt that theground was so safe under her feet that, even with the background of thepast ever in her memory, she could safely indulge her warmth of fancyto its full.

  They were alone in the little modern parlor. At another time Jeff musthave observed its atmosphere without enthusiasm, just now he welcomedit. It represented the intimate background of a beautiful woman'slife. This was the shrine of the goddess whom he had set up for hisown worship. Again there was no half measure.

  They were talking in that intimate fashion which belongs to the periodwhen a man and a woman have made up their minds that there remains noobstacle to the admission of mutual regard.

  "It's just wonderful to have done it all in so short a time," Elvinesaid in her low even tones.

  Jeff had been talking of the Obar Ranch which was more precious to himthan a schoolboy's first big achievement in the playing fields. He hadbeen talking of it, not in the spirit of vain glory, but out of thedeep affection of a strong heart for the child of his own creation.

  "Oh, I guess it would have been wonderful with any other feller for apartner than Bud Tristram," Jeff responded promptly. "As anenterprise, why, I guess it's my thought. As a success, it's Bud'sgenius for setting cattle prospering. Say, you can't handle a wideproposition right by reckoning up figures and fixing deeds of sale andpartnership. I allow you need to do some thinking that way. But whenit's all figgered right, why, the real practical man needs to get busyor the figgers aren't worth the ink an' paper you've used to make 'em.Bud's the feller of the Obars. I just sit around and talk wise when heneeds talk, which I don't guess is frequent."

  Jeff's smile was genuine. There was no false modesty that made himplace the credit of the Obar's success at Bud's door. The credit wasBud's. He knew it. And, with frank honesty, was only too ready toadmit it, and even advertise it.

  Elvine nodded. Her dark eyes were warmly returning his smile.

  "I like that," she said simply. And she meant it.

  The blood mounted to the man's brow. He felt that he had forced her tomake the admission, and regarded his act with some shame.

  "Say, don't feel you've got to say that," he said earnestly. "Youmustn't just think I'm asking your applause. These are simple factswhich I can't deny. I'd like to feel the sun just rises and setsaround my work, but if I did I'd be the same sort of fool as thosePharisee fellers in the Bible. Bud's a bully feller, and I'll owe himmore than I can ever hand him back just as long as I live."

  Elvine was comparing this man's big generosity with her understandingof most of the men she had ever known. She was thinking, too, of dayslong since passed, and events which eve
n a wide distance of time hadnot succeeded in rendering mellow.

  She sighed. Somehow "Honest Jeff" was hurting her in a way she wouldnever have believed any man could hurt her--now.

  "This Bud Tristram's daughter--Nan. She's a pretty creature," Elvinewent on, feeling their topic needed changing.

  Jeff's smile deepened.

  "She's pretty--right through to her soul," came his prompt and earnestresponse.

  Elvine's eyes observed him closely. She laughed in a challengingfashion.

  "And she is still her father's daughter?"

  Jeff flushed. Her meaning could not be mistaken. His impulse was tospeak out of the depth of a strong abiding regard for his friend's"little gal." But he rejected the impulse. Time and his own desireswere pressing.

  "Oh, I guess she'll marry some fellow some day. Maybe he'll be goodenough----"

  "And more than likely he won't." Elvine's reply was emphatic. Shesuddenly sat forward in the deep rocker, and a great earnestness shonein her eyes. "I tell you no woman in this life has a right to be as'pretty' as you believe her to be," she said with intense bitterness."If I had my way every girl would be taught to reason for herself onthose things in life which make for her well-being. I'd make her thinkthat way before everything else. To me it is the direst cruelty ofProvidence that we should be left to become the prey of our ownemotions, and at the mercy of any man of whatever quality who cansufficiently stir them. Maybe you do not agree to that. But justthink of the awful position that every wretched, physically feeblewoman stands in in the life about her. I tell you no girl on her ownresources has much better than a dog's chance of getting through lifewithout disaster. Our emotions are the most absurdly foolish type itis possible to think of. I guess we can do things with our normalreason which would shame a whole asylum of crazy folk who can't be letrun around free. Oh, I'd like to know her better, to tell her, to warnher. I don't guess I've ever done good in the world, but I'd like to.If I could save one of my sex from some of the pitfalls lying around,maybe I'd feel I'd been some use."

  "Why not know her better? Say, Nan's no end of a good sort. She'd bereal glad."

  Jeff's invitation sounded lame, even to himself. But he was strugglingunder an emotion that made words difficult.

  Elvine laughed.

  "Would she? I wonder."

  Then she hurried on lest her observation should be interpreted.

  "And you're going to quit our city to-morrow for your wonderful ranch.I guess the Cattle Week's liable to bore folks who've real work in theworld--like you. It's just a week of show, and glitter, and ceremony,all those things which have no real place in the world of things thatmatter. But there, after all, I wonder what are the things thatmatter. And do they matter anyway? We have no guide. We're just leftto grope around and search for ourselves, and every folk's ideas aredifferent from every other folk's. I'm restless. I sort of feelthere's so much to be done in the world--if we only knew how, and what."

  The half-bantering manner of the woman did not disguise herearnestness. Jeff shook his head.

  "Guess I can't say. Guess none of us can--rightly. But why not comearound to the ranch and see things? See if you can worry out ananswer. See if you think the work we're doing matters. It certainlydoes matter to me, to us. But in the world. I don't know. Just now Isort of feel it don't. Just now I'm wondering whether I'll go backthere to-morrow. What do you say?"

  "I? How can I say?"

  Jeff laughed.

  "I don't guess there's a thing easier." His eyes were shining as hetook in the girl's dark beauty. "Seems to me I'm beginning to wonderabout the things that matter myself. It's been a bully week. The sortof week some folks would write about in their secret diary. Guess Idon't keep a secret diary--except somewhere right in here." He tappedhis breast. "I don't seem to feel I've ever had such a time, or everwill again, unless----"

  "Unless?" Elvine was caught in the mood of the moment. This man wasexercising a fascination over her which had nothing to do with thecalculations she had laid down for the guidance of her sex.

  "Why, unless I add another week to it."

  "D'you think you could duplicate it then?"

  "That just depends on--you."

  Elvine rose from her chair and moved toward the window. Jeff, too,left his chair. He stood tall and straight--waiting.

  Her back was turned to him.

  "It is not for me to say," she replied without turning.

  "Why not?"

  "Your work--in the world."

  "Can wait. There's always--Bud Tristram."

  Suddenly Elvine turned about. Her eyes were smiling, and full of alight which had not lived in them for several years. There was not ashadow of calculation in them now.

  She held out her hand in token of dismissal.

  "We had some fine rides--together," she said.

  "My horses are still here."

  "And--the dances. They were--very pleasant."

  "Maybe they can be danced--again."

  "Good-bye," she said, her beautiful hand lingering in his for a moment.

  "For the present," Jeff added with decision.

  Then he mechanically glanced at his timepiece. His "farewell" call hadlasted over two hours. But even so it had been all too short for him.