Beth Norvell Part 14

Beth Norvell's eyes softened in sudden pity. The unconscious appeal within that broken voice, which had lost all semblance of threat, seemed to reveal instantly the whole sad story, and her heart gave immediate response. She reached out, touching gently the hand in which she saw the gleam of the knife-blade. There was no fear in her now, nothing but an infinite womanly sympathy.

"He is nothing to me," she said, earnestly, "absolutely nothing. I despise him--that is all. He is unworthy the thought of any woman."

The slender figure of the Mexican swayed as though stricken by a blow, the fierce, tigerish pa.s.sion dying out of her face, her free hand seeking her throat as though choking.

"Nothing?" she gasped, incredulously. "_Sapristi_, I think you lie, senorita. Nothing? Vy you go to him in secret? Vy you stay and talk so long? I not understand."

"He sent for me; he wished me to aid him in a business matter."

The other stared incredulous, her form growing rigid with gathering suspicion that this fair American was only endeavoring to make her a fool through the use of soft speech. The white teeth gleamed again maliciously.

"You speak false to Mercedes," she cried hotly, her voice trembling.

"Vy he send for you, senorita? You know him?"

There was a bare instant of seeming hesitation, then the quiet, better controlled voice answered soberly:

"Yes, in the East, three years ago."

Like a flash of powder, the girl of the hot-blooded South burst into fresh flame of pa.s.sion, her foot stamping the floor, her black eyes glowing with unrestrained anger.

"_Dios de Dios_! Eet ees as I thought. He lofe you, not Mercedes. Vy I not kill you?--hey?"

Miss Norvell met her fiercely threatening look, her single step of advance, without tremor or lowering of the eyes. She even released her grasp upon the uplifted knife, as if in utter contempt. For a moment they confronted each other, and then, as suddenly as she had broken into flame, the excitable young Mexican burst into tears. As though this unexpected exhibition of feeling had inspired the action, the other as quickly decided upon her course.

"Listen to me, girl," she exclaimed gravely, again grasping the lowered knife hand. "I am going to trust you implicitly. You feel deeply; you will understand when I tell you all. You call me a fine lady because I hold myself aloof from the senseless revelry of this mining camp; and you believe you hate me because you suppose I feel above you. But you are a woman, and, whatever your past life may have been, your heart will respond to the story of a woman's trouble. I 'm going to tell you mine, not so much for my sake as for your own. I am not afraid of your knife; why, its sharp point would be almost welcome, were it not that I have serious work to do in the world before I die. And you are going to aid me in accomplishing it. You say you do not really know now whether you truly love or hate this man, this Farnham. But I know for myself beyond all doubt. All that once might have blossomed into love in my heart has been withered into hatred, for I know him to be a moral leper, a traitor to honor, a remorseless wretch, unworthy the tender remembrance, of any woman. You suppose I went to him this night through any deliberate choice of my own? Almighty G.o.d, no! I went because I was compelled; because there was no possible escape. Now, I am going to tell you why."

Mercedes, the tears yet clinging to her long, black lashes, stood motionless, gazing at the other with fascination, her slender, scarlet-draped figure quivering to the force of these impetuous words.

She longed, yet dreaded, to hear, her own lips refusing utterance. But Beth Norvell gave little opportunity; her determination made, she swept forward unhesitatingly. As though fearful of being overheard, even in the midst of that loneliness, she leaned forward, whispering one quick, breathless sentence of confession. The startled dancer swayed backward at the words, clutching at her breast, the faint glimmer of light revealing her staring eyes and pallid cheeks.

"Mother of G.o.d!" she sobbed convulsively. "No, no! not dat! He could not lie to me like dat!"

"Lie?" in bitter scornfulness. "Lie! Why, it is his very life to lie--to women. G.o.d pity us! This world seems filled with just such men, and we are their natural victims. Love? Their only conception of it is pa.s.sion, and, that once satiated, not even ordinary kindness is left with which to mock the memory. In Heaven's name, girl, in your life have you not long since learned this? Now, I will tell you what this monster wanted of me to-night." She paused, scarcely knowing how best to proceed, or just how much of the plot this other might already comprehend.

"Have you ever heard of the 'Little Yankee' mine?" she questioned.

"Si, senorita," the voice faltering slightly, the black eyes drooping.

"Eet is up in de deep canyon yonder; I know eet."

"He told me about it," Miss Norvell continued more calmly. "He is having trouble with those people out there. There is something wrong, and he is afraid of exposure. You remember the young man who walked home with me last night: Well, he is a mining engineer. He has agreed to examine into the claims of the 'Little Yankee' people, and this--this Farnham wants him stopped. You understand? He sent for me to use my influence and make him go away. I refused, and then this--this creature threatened to kill Mr. Winston if he remained in camp, and--and I know he will."

The Mexican's great black eyes widened, but not with horror. Suddenly in the silent pause she laughed.

"Si, si; now I know all--you lofe dis man. _Bueno_! I see eet as eet vas."

The telltale red blood swept to the roots of Miss Norvell's hair, but her indignant reply came swift and vehement.

"No, stop! Never dare to speak such words. I am not like that! Can you think of nothing except the cheap masquerade of love? Have you never known any true, pure friendship existing between man and woman?

This mining engineer has been good to me; he has proved himself a gentleman. It is not love which makes me so anxious now to serve him, to warn him of imminent danger--it is grat.i.tude, friendship, common humanity. Is it impossible for you to comprehend such motives?"

The other touched her for the first time with extended hand, her face losing much of its previous savagery.

"I know so ver' leettle 'bout such kinds of peoples, senorita," she explained regretfully, her voice low, "de kind vat are good and gentle and vidout vantin' somting for eet. Eet ees not de kinds I meet vis ver' much. Dey be all alike vis me--lofe, lofe, lofe, till I get seek of de vord--only de one, an' I not know him ver' vell yet. Maybe he teach me vat you mean some day. He talk better, not like a fool, an'

he not try to make me bad. Is dat eet, senorita?"

"Yes; who is it you mean?"

"He? Oh! it vas most odd, yet I do not laugh, senorita, I know not vy, but he make me to feel--vat you calls eet?--si, de respect; I tink him to be de good man, de gentle. He was at de 'Little Yankee' too. I vonder vas all good out at de 'Little Yankee'? _Sapristi_! he vas such a funny man to talk--he sputter like de champagne ven it uncorked. I laugh at him, but I like him just de same, for he act to me like I vas de lady, de ver' fine lady. I never forget dat. You know him, senorita? So big like a great bear, vis de beautiful red hair like de color of dis dress. No? He so nice I just hate to have to fool him, but maybe I get chance to make eet all up some day--you tink so?

Merciful saints! Ve are queer, ve vomens! Eet vas alvays de voman vat does like de vay you do, hey? Ve vas mooch fools all de time."

"Yes, we are 'much fools'; that seems ordained. Yet there are true, n.o.ble men in this world, Mercedes, and blessed is she who can boast of such a friendship. This Mr. Winston is one, and, perhaps, your stuttering giant may prove another." She caught at a straw of hope in thus interesting the girl. "So he is at the 'Little Yankee'? and you wish to serve him? Then listen; he is in danger also if this scheme of revenge carries--in danger of his life. Dynamite does not pick out one victim, and permit all others to escape."

"Dynamite?"

"That was Farnham's threat, and G.o.d knows he is perfectly capable of it. Now, will you aid me?"

The young Mexican girl stood staring with parted lips.

"Help you how? Vat you mean?"

"Warn the men of the 'Little Yankee.'"

The other laughed behind her white teeth, yet with no mirth in the sound.

"Ah, maybe I see, senorita; you try make a fool out me. No, I not play your game. You try turn me against Senor Farnham. I tink you not catch Mercedes so."

"You do not believe me?"

"_Sapristi_! I know not for sure. Maybe I help, maybe I not. First I talk vis Senor Farnham, an' den I know vether you lie, or tell true.

Vatever ees right I do."

"Then permit me to pa.s.s."

Miss Norvell took a resolute step forward, clasping her skirts closely to keep them from contact with the dusty scenery crowding the narrow pa.s.sage. The jealous flame within the black eyes of the Mexican dimmed.

"You can no pa.s.s dat vay," she explained swiftly, touching the other's sleeve.

"Not through the stage door?"

The other shook her head doggedly.

"Eet is alvay locked, senorita."

Beth Norvell turned about in dismay, her eyes pleading, her breath quickening.

"You mean we are shut in here for the night? Is n't there any way leading out?"

"Oh, si, si," and Mercedes smiled, waving her hands. "Zar is vay yonder vare de orchestra goes. Eet leads to de hall; I show you."