CHAPTER VIII
THE REAPPEARANCE OF AN OLD FRIEND
After supper the Lieutenant and Naida danced twice together, the younggirl's mood having apparently changed to one of buoyant, carelesshappiness, her dark eyes smiling, her lips uttering freely whateverthought came uppermost. Outwardly she pictured the gay and merryspirit of the night, yet to Brant, already observing her with thejealousy of a lover, she appeared distrait and restless, heraffectation of abandon a mere mask to her true feelings. There was apeculiar watchfulness in her glances about the crowded room, while herflushed cheeks, and the distinctly false note in her laughter, began totrouble him not a little. Perhaps these things might have passedunnoted but for their contrast with the late confidential chat.
He could not reconcile this sudden change with what he believed of her.It was not carried out with the practised art of one accustomed todeceit. There must be something real influencing her action. Thesemisgivings burdened his mind even as he swung lightly with her to themusic, and they talked together in little snatches.
He had forgotten Miss Spencer, forgotten everything else about him,permitting himself to become enthralled by this strange girl whose nameeven he did not know. In every way she had appealed to hisimagination, awakening his interest, his curiosity, his respect, andeven now, when some secret seemed to sway her conduct, it merely servedto strengthen his resolve to advance still farther in her regard.There are natures which welcome strife; they require opposition,difficulty, to develop their real strength. Brant was of this breed.The very conception that some person, even some inanimate thing, mightstand between him and the heart of this fair woman acted upon him likea stimulant.
The last of the two waltzes ended, they walked slowly through thescattering throng, he striving vainly to arouse her to the formerindependence and intimacy of speech. While endeavoring bravely toexhibit interest, her mind too clearly wandered, and there was borne inslowly upon him the distasteful idea that she would prefer being leftalone. Brant had been secretly hoping it might become his privilege toescort her home, but now he durst not breathe the words of such arequest. Something indefinable had arisen between them which held theman dumb and nerveless. Suddenly they came face to face with Mrs.Herndon, and Brant felt the girl's arm twitch.
"I have been looking everywhere for you, Naida," Mrs. Herndon said, aslight complaint in her voice. "We were going home."
Naida's cheeks reddened painfully.
"I am so sorry if I have kept you waiting," her words spoken with arush, "but--but, Lieutenant Brant was intending to accompany me. Wewere just starting for the cloak-room."
"Oh, indeed!" Mrs. Herndon's expression was noncommittal, while hereyes surveyed the lieutenant.
"With your permission, of course," he said.
"I hardly think I have any need to interfere."
They separated, the younger people walking slowly, silently toward thedoor. He held her arm, assisting her to descend the stairway, his lipsmurmuring a few commonplaces, to which she scarcely returned evenmonosyllabic replies, although she frequently flashed shy glances athis grave face. Both realized that some explanation was forthcoming,yet neither was quite prepared to force the issue.
"I have no wraps at the hotel," she said, as he attempted to turn thatway. "That was a lie also; let us walk directly down the road."
He indulged in no comment, his eyes perceiving a pathetic pleading inher upturned face. Suddenly there came to him a belief that the girlwas crying; he could feel the slight tremor of her form against hisown. He glanced furtively at her, only to catch the glitter of afalling tear. To her evident distress, his heart made instant andsympathetic response. With all respect influencing the action, hishand closed warmly over the smaller one on his sleeve.
"Little girl," he said, forgetting the shortness of their acquaintancein the deep feeling of the moment, "tell me what the trouble is."
"I suppose you think me an awful creature for saying that," she blurtedout, without looking up. "It wasn't ladylike or nice, but--but Isimply could n't help it, Lieutenant Brant."
"You mean your sudden determination to carry me home with you?" heasked, relieved to think this might prove the entire difficulty."Don't let that worry you. Why, I am simply rejoiced at beingpermitted to go. Do you know, I wanted to request the privilege allthe time we were dancing together. But you acted so differently fromwhen we were beneath the vines that I actually lost my nerve."
She looked up, and he caught a fleeting glimpse into her unveiled eyes.
"I did not wish you to ask me."
"What?" He stopped suddenly. "Why then did you make such anannouncement to Mrs. Herndon?"
"Oh, that was different," she explained, uneasily. "I had to do that;I had to trust you to help me out, but--but I really wanted to go homealone."
He swept his unbelieving eyes around over the deserted night scene, notknowing what answer to return to so strange an avowal. "Was that whatcaused you to appear so distant to me in the hall, so vastly differentfrom what you had been before?"
She nodded, but with her gaze still upon the ground.
"Miss Naida," he said, "it would be cowardly for me to attempt to dodgethis issue between us. Is it because you do not like me?"
She looked up quickly, the moonlight revealing her flushed face.
"Oh, no, no! you must never think that. I told you I was a girl ofmoods; under those vines I had one mood, in the hall another. Cannotyou understand?"
"Very little," he admitted, "for I am more inclined to believe you arethe possessor of a strong will than that you are swayed by moods.Listen. If I thought that a mere senseless mood had caused yourpeculiar treatment of me to-night, I should feel justified in yieldingto a mood also. But I will not lower you to that extent in myestimation; I prefer to believe that you are the true-hearted, franklyspoken girl of the vine shadow. It is this abiding conviction as toyour true nature which holds me loyal to a test. Miss Naida, is it nowyour desire that I leave you?"
He stepped aside, relinquishing her arm, his hat in hand, but she didnot move from where he left her.
"It--it hurts me," she faltered, "for I truly desire you to think inthat way of me, and I--I don't know what is best to do. If I tell youwhy I wished to come alone, you might misunderstand; and if I refuse,then you will suspect wrong, and go away despising me."
"I sincerely wish you might repose sufficient confidence in me as agentleman to believe I never betray a trust, never pry into a lady'ssecret."
"Oh, I do, Lieutenant Brant. It is not doubt of you at all; but I amnot sure, even within my own heart, that I am doing just what is right.Besides, it will be so difficult to make you, almost a stranger,comprehend the peculiar conditions which influence my action. Even nowyou suspect that I am deceitful--a masked sham like those others wediscussed to-night; but I have never played a part before, neverskulked in the dark. To-night I simply had to do it."
Her voice was low and pleading, her eyes an appeal; and Brant could notresist the impulse to comfort.
"Then attempt no explanation," he said, gently, "and believe me, Ishall continue to trust you. To-night, whatever your wish may be, Iwill abide by it. Shall I go, or stay? In either case you havenothing to fear."
She drew a deep breath, these open words of faith touching her morestrongly than would any selfish fault-finding.
"Trust begets trust," she replied, with new firmness, and now gazingfrankly into his face. "You can walk with me a portion of the way ifyou wish, but I am going to tell you the truth,--I have an appointmentwith a man."
"I naturally regret to learn this," he said, with assumed calmness."But the way is so lonely I prefer walking with you until you have someother protector."
She accepted his proffered arm, feeling the constraint in his tone, theformality in his manner, most keenly. An older woman might haveresented it, but it only served to sadden and embarrass her. He beganspeaking of the quiet beauty of the night, but she had no thought ofwha
t he was saying.
"Lieutenant Brant," she said, at last, "you do not ask me who the manis."
"Certainly not, Miss Naida; it is none of my business."
"I think, perhaps, it might be; the knowledge might help you tounderstand. It is Bob Hampton."
He stared at her. "The gambler? No wonder, then, your meeting isclandestine."
She replied indignantly, her lips trembling. "He is not a gambler; heis a miner, over in the Black Range. He has not touched a card in twoyears."
"Oh, reformed has he? And are you the instrument that has worked sucha miracle?"
Her eyes fell. "I don't know, but I hope so." Then she glanced upagain, wondering at his continued silence. "Don't you understand yet?"
"Only that you are secretly meeting a man of the worst reputation, oneknown the length and breadth of this border as a gambler and fighter."
"Yes; but--but don't you know who I am?"
He smiled grimly, wondering what possible difference that could make."Certainly; you are Miss Naida Herndon."
"I? You have not known? Lieutenant Brant, I am Naida Gillis."
He stopped still, again facing her. "Naida Gillis? Do you mean oldGillis's girl? Is it possible you are the same we rescued on theprairie two years ago?"
She bowed her head. "Yes; do you understand now why I trust this BobHampton?"
"I perhaps might comprehend why you should feel grateful to him, butnot why you should thus consent to meet with him clandestinely."
He could not see the deep flush upon her cheeks, but he was not deaf tothe pitiful falter in her voice.
"Because he has been good and true to me," she explained, frankly,"better than anybody else in all the world. I don't care what you say,you and those others who do not know him, but I believe in him; I thinkhe is a man. They won't let me see him, the Herndons, nor permit himto come to the house. He has not been in Glencaid for two years, untilyesterday. The Indian rising has driven all the miners out from theBlack Range, and he came down here for no other purpose than to get aglimpse of me, and learn how I was getting on. I--I saw him over atthe hotel just for a moment--Mrs. Guffy handed me a note--and I--I hadonly just left him when I encountered you at the door. I wanted to seehim again, to talk with him longer, but I couldn't manage to get awayfrom you, and I didn't know what to do. There, I've told it all; doyou really think I am so very bad, because--because I like Bob Hampton?"
He stood a moment completely nonplussed, yet compelled to answer.
"I certainly have no right to question your motives," he said, at last,"and I believe your purposes to be above reproach. I wish I might givethe same credit to this man Hampton. But, Miss Naida, the world doesnot often consent to judge us by our own estimation of right and wrong;it prefers to place its own interpretation on acts, and thus oftencondemns the innocent. Others might not see this as I do, nor havesuch unquestioning faith in you."
"I know," she admitted, stubbornly, "but I wanted to see him; I havebeen so lonely for him, and this was the only possible way."
Brant felt a wave of uncontrollable sympathy sweep across him, evenwhile he was beginning to hate this man, who, he felt, had stolen apassage into the innocent heart of a girl not half his age, one knowinglittle of the ways of the world. He saw again that bare desert, withthose two half-dead figures clasped in each other's arms, and felt thathe understood the whole miserable story of a girl's trust, a man'sperfidy.
"May I walk beside you until you meet him?" he asked.
"You will not quarrel?"
"No; at least not through any fault of mine."
A few steps in the moonlight and she again took his arm, although theyscarcely spoke. At the bridge she withdrew her hand and uttered apeculiar call, and Hampton stepped forth from the concealing bushes,his head bare, his hat in his hand.
"I scarcely thought it could be you," he said, seemingly not altogethersatisfied, "as you were accompanied by another."
The younger man took a single step forward, his uniform showing in themoonlight. "Miss Gillis will inform you later why I am here," he said,striving to speak civilly. "You and I, however, have met before--I amLieutenant Brant, of the Seventh Cavalry."
Hampton bowed, his manner somewhat stiff and formal, his faceinpenetrable.
"I should have left Miss Gillis previous to her meeting with you,"Brant continued, "but I desired to request the privilege of callingupon you to-morrow for a brief interview."
"With pleasure."
"Shall it be at ten?"
"The hour is perfectly satisfactory. You will find me at the hotel."
"You place me under obligations," said Brant, and turned toward thewondering girl. "I will now say good-night, Miss Gillis, and I promiseto remember only the pleasant events of this evening."
Their hands met for an instant of warm pressure, and then the two leftbehind stood motionless and watched him striding along the moonlit road.
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