Bob Hampton of Placer

by Randall Parrish

  CHAPTER XVII

  THE PARTING HOUR

  To Lieutenant Brant these proved days of bitterness. His sole comfortwas the feeling that he had performed his duty; his sustaining hope,that the increasing rumors of Indian atrocity might soon lead to hisdespatch upon active service. He had called twice upon Hampton, bothtimes finding the wounded man propped up in bed, very affable, properlygrateful for services rendered, yet avoiding all reference to the onedisturbing element between them.

  Once he had accidentally met Naida, but their brief conversation lefthim more deeply mystified then ever, and later she seemed to avoid himaltogether. The barrier between them no longer appeared as a figmentof her misguided imagination, but rather as a real thing neitherpatience nor courage might hope to surmount. If he could haveflattered himself that Naida was depressed also in spirit, the factmight have proved both comfort and inspiration, but to his view herattitude was one of almost total indifference. One day he deemed herbut an idle coquette; the next, a warm-hearted woman, doing her dutybravely. Yet through it all her power over him never slackened. Twicehe walked with Miss Spencer as far as the Herndon house, hopeful thatthat vivacious young lady might chance to let fall some unguarded hintof guidance. But Miss Spencer was then too deeply immersed in her ownaffairs of the heart to waste either time or thought upon others.

  The end to this nervous strain came in the form of an urgent despatchrecalling N Troop to Fort Abraham Lincoln by forced marches. Thecommander felt no doubt as to the full meaning of this message, and thesoldier in him made prompt and joyful response. Little Glencaid wasalmost out of the world so far as recent news was concerned. Themilitary telegraph, however, formed a connecting link with the WarDepartment, so that Brant knew something of the terrible condition ofthe Northwest. He had thus learned of the consolidation of the hostilesavages, incited by Sitting Bull, into the fastness of the Big HornRange; he was aware that General Crook was already advancing northwardfrom the Nebraska line; and he knew it was part of the plan ofoperation for Custer and the Seventh Cavalry to strike directlywestward across the Dakota hills. Now he realized that he was to be apart of this chosen fighting force, and his heart responded to thesummons as to a bugle-call in battle.

  Instantly the little camp was astir, the men feeling the enthusiasm oftheir officers. With preparations well in hand, Brant's thoughtsveered once again toward Naida--he could not leave her, perhaps rideforth to death, without another effort to learn what was thisimpassable object between them. He rode down to the Herndon house withgrave face and sober thought. If he could only understand this girl;if he could only once look into her heart, and know the meaning of herever-changing actions, her puzzling words! He felt convinced he hadsurprised the reflection of love within her eyes; but soon thereflection vanished. The end was ever the same--he only knew he lovedher.

  He recalled long the plainly furnished room into which Mrs. Herndonushered him to await the girl's appearance--the formal look of theold-fashioned hair-cloth furniture, the prim striped paper on thewalls, the green shades at the windows, the clean rag carpet on thefloor. The very stiffness chilled him, left him ill at ease. To calmhis spirit he walked to a window, and stood staring out into the warmsunlight. Then he heard the rustle of Naida's skirt and turned to meether. She was pale from her weeks of nursing, and agitated for fear ofwhat this unexpected call might portend. Yet to his thought sheappeared calm, her manner restrained. Nor could anything be kinderthan her first greeting, the frankly extended hand, the wordsexpressive of welcome.

  "Mr. Wynkoop informed me a few minutes ago that you had at lastreceived your orders for the north," she said, her lips slightlytrembling. "I wondered if you would leave without a word of farewell."

  He bowed low. "I do not understand how you could doubt, for I haveshown my deep interest in you even from the first. If I have latelyseemed to avoid you, it has only been because I believed you wished itso."

  A slight flush tinged the pallor of her cheeks, while the long lashesdrooped over the eyes, concealing their secrets.

  "Life is not always as easy to live aright as it appears upon thesurface," she confessed. "I am learning that I cannot always do justas I should like, but must content myself with the performance of duty.Shall we not be seated?"

  There was an embarrassing pause, as though neither knew how to getthrough the interview.

  "No doubt you are rejoiced to be sent on active service again," shesaid, at last.

  "Yes, both as a soldier and as a man, Miss Naida. I am glad to getinto the field again with my regiment, to do my duty under the flag,and I am equally rejoiced to have something occur which will tend todivert my thoughts. I had not intended to say anything of this kind,but now that I am with you I simply cannot restrain the words. Thispast month has been, I believe, the hardest I have ever been compelledto live through. You simply mystify me, so that I alternately hope anddespair. Your methods are cruel."

  "Mine?" and she gazed at him with parted lips. "Lieutenant Brant, whatcan you mean? What is it I have done?"

  "It may have been only play to you, and so easily forgotten," he wenton, bitterly. "But that is a dangerous game, very certain to hurt someone. Miss Naida, your face, your eyes, even your lips almostcontinually tell me one thing; your words another. I know not which totrust. I never meet you except to go away baffled and bewildered."

  "You wish to know the truth?"

  "Ay, and for ail time! Are you false, or true? Coquette, or woman?Do you simply play with hearts for idle amusement, or is there sometrue purpose ruling your actions?"

  She looked directly at him, her hands clasped, her breath almostsobbing between the parted lips. At first she could not speak. "Oh,you hurt me so," she faltered at last. "I did not suppose you couldever think that. I--I did not mean it; oh, truly I did not mean it!You forget how young I am; how very little I know of the world and itsways. Perhaps I have not even realized how deeply in earnest you were,have deceived myself into believing you were merely amusing yourselfwith me. Why, indeed, should I think otherwise? How could I ventureto believe you would ever really care in that way for such a waif as I?You have seen other women in that great Eastern world of which I haveonly read--refined, cultured, princesses, belonging to your own socialcircle,--how should I suppose you could forget them, and give yourheart to a little outcast, a girl without a name or a home? Rathershould it be I who might remain perplexed and bewildered."

  "I love you," he said, with simple honesty. "I seek you for my wife."

  She started at these frankly spoken words, her hands partiallyconcealing her face, her form trembling. "Oh, I wish you hadn't saidthat! It is not because I doubt you any longer; not that I fail toappreciate all you offer me. But it is so hard to appear ungrateful,to give nothing in return for so vast a gift."

  "Then it is true that you do not love me?"

  The blood flamed suddenly up into her face, but there was no loweringof the eyes, no shrinking back. She was too honest to play the cowardbefore him.

  "I shall not attempt to deceive you," she said, with a slowimpressiveness instantly carrying conviction. "This has alreadyprogressed so far that I now owe you complete frankness. Donald Brant,now and always, living or dead, married or single, wherever life maytake us, I shall love you."

  Their eyes were meeting, but she held up her hand to restrain him fromthe one step forward.

  "No, no; I have confessed the truth; I have opened freely to you thegreat secret of my heart. With it you must be content to leave me.There is nothing more that I can give you, absolutely nothing. I cannever be your wife; I hope, for your sake and mine, that we never meetagain."

  She did not break down, or hesitate in the utterance of these words,although there was a piteous tremble on her lips, a pathetic appeal inher eyes. Brant stood like a statue, his face grown white. He did notin the least doubt her full meaning of renunciation.

  "You will, at least, tell me why?" It was all that would come to hisd
ry lips.

  She sank back upon the sofa, as though the strength had suddenlydeserted her body, her eyes shaded by an uplifted hand.

  "I cannot tell you. I have no words, no courage. You will learn someday from others, and be thankful that I loved you well enough to resisttemptation. But the reason cannot come to you from my lips."

  He leaned forward, half kneeling at her feet, and she permitted him toclasp her hand within both his own. "Tell me, at least, this--is itsome one else? Is it Hampton?"

  She smiled at him through a mist of tears, a smile the sad sweetness ofwhich he would never forget. "In the sense you mean, no. No livingman stands between us, not even Bob Hampton."

  "Does he know why this cannot be?"

  "He does know, but I doubt if he will ever reveal his knowledge;certainly not to you. He has not told me all, even in the hour when hethought himself dying. I am convinced of that. It is not because hedislikes you, Lieutenant Brant, but because he knew his partialrevealment of the truth was a duty he owed us both."

  There was a long, painful pause between them, during which neitherventured to look directly at the other.

  "You leave me so completely in the dark," he said, finally; "is thereno possibility that this mysterious obstacle can ever be removed?"

  "None. It is beyond earthly power--there lies between us the shadow ofa dead man."

  He stared at her as if doubting her sanity.

  "A dead man! Not Gillis?"

  "No, it is not Gillis. I have told you this much so that you mightcomprehend how impossible it is for us to change our fate. It isirrevocably fixed. Please do not question me any more; cannot you seehow I am suffering? I beseech your pity; I beg you not to prolong thisuseless interview. I cannot bear it!"

  Brant rose to his feet, and stood looking down upon her bowed head, herslender figure shaken by sobs. Whatever it might prove to be, thismysterious shadow of a dead man, there could be no doubting what it nowmeant to her. His eyes were filled with a love unutterable.

  "Naida, as you have asked it, I will go; but I go better, stronger,because I have heard your lips say you love me. I am going now, mysweetheart, but if I live, I shall come again. I know nothing of whatyou mean about a dead man being between us, but I shall know when Icome back, for, dead or alive, no man shall remain between me and thegirl I love."

  "This--this is different," she sobbed, "different; it is beyond yourpower."

  "I shall never believe so until I have faced it for myself, nor will Ieven say good-bye, for, under God, I am coming back to you."

  He turned slowly, and walked away. As his hand touched the latch ofthe door he paused and looked longingly back.

  "Naida."

  She glanced up at him.

  "You kissed me once; will you again?"

  She rose silently and crossed over to him, her hands held out, her eyesuplifted to his own. Neither spoke as he drew her gently to him, andtheir lips met.

  "Say it once more, sweetheart?"

  "Donald, I love you."

  A moment they stood thus face to face, reading the great lesson ofeternity within the depths of each other's eyes. Then slowly, gently,she released herself from the clasp of his strong arms.

  "You believe in me now? You do not go away blaming me?" shequestioned, with quivering lips.

  "There is no blame, for you are doing what you think right. But I amcoming back, Naida, little woman; coming back to love and you."

  An hour later N Troop trotted across the rude bridge, and circled thebluff, on its way toward the wide plains. Brant, riding ahead of hismen, caught a glimpse of something white fluttering from an open windowof the yellow house fronting the road. Instantly he whipped off hiscampaign hat, and bowing to the saddle pommel, rode bareheaded out ofsight. And from behind the curtain Naida watched the last horsemanround the bluff angle, riding cheerfully away to hardship, danger, anddeath, her eyes dry and despairing, her heart scarcely beating. Thenshe crept across the narrow room, and buried her face in the coverletof the bed.