The Furnace of Gold Part 23

CHAPTER XIX

VAN AND BETH AND BOSTWICK

Van was far too occupied to retain for long the anger that Culver had aroused in all his being. Moreover, he had come to camp in a mood of joyousness, youth, and bounding emotions such as nothing could submerge. The incident with Culver was closed. As for land-office data, it was far from being indispensable, and Gettysburg's knife was forgotten.

He had fetched down a nugget from the "Laughing Water" claim, a bright lump of virgin gold, rudely fashioned by nature like a heart. This he took at once to a jeweler's shop, where more fine diamonds were being sold than in all the rest of the State, and while it was being soldered to a pin he returned to the hay-yard for Dave. His business was to purchase the mare on which, one beautiful morning when the wild peach was in bloom, Beth Kent had ridden by his side. Dave would have given him the animal out of hand. Van compelled him to receive a market price. Even ponies here were valuable, and Dave had been poor all his life.

"Say, Van," he drawled, when at length the transaction was complete, "this camp has set me to thinkin'. It's full of these rich galoots, all havin' an easy time. If ever I git a wad of dough I'm comin' here and buy five dollars worth of good sardines and eat 'em, every one.

Never have had enough sardines in all my life."

"I'd buy them for you now and sit you down," said Van, "only why start a graveyard with a friend?"

Some woman who had come and gone from Goldite had disposed of a beautiful side saddle, exposed in the hay-yard to the weather. Van paid fifty dollars and became its owner. The outfit for Beth was soon complete. He ordered the best of feed and attention for her roan--bills to be rendered to himself--and hastening off to the jeweler's, found his pin ready and reposing in a small blue box.

Avoiding a number of admiring friends, he slipped around a corner, and once more appeared at Mrs. d.i.c.k's.

Beth was in the dining-room, alone. Her papers were spread upon the table. She was flushed with the day's excitements,

Van had entered unannounced. His active tread upon the carpet of the hall had made no sound. When he halted in the doorway, transfixed by the beauty of the face he saw reflected in the sideboard mirror opposite, Beth was unconscious of his presence.

She was busily gathering up her doc.u.ments. Her pretty hands were moving lightly on the table. Her eyes were downcast, focused where she worked. Only the wondrous addition of their matchless brown, thought Van, was necessary to complete a picture of the most exquisite loveliness he had ever beheld.

He had come there prepared to be sedate--at least not over-bold again, or too presumptuous. Already, however, a riot of love was in his veins. He loved as he fought--with all his strength, with a tidal impetuosity that could scarcely understand resistance or imagine defeat. To restrain himself from a quick descent upon her position and a boyish sweeping of her up in his powerful arms was taxing the utmost of his self-control. Then Beth glanced up at the mirror.

The light of her eyes seemed to liquify his heart. He felt that mad, joyous organ spread abruptly, throughout his entire being.

She rose up suddenly and turned to greet him.

"Why--Mr. Van!" she stammered, flushing rosily. "I _heard_ you were in town."

He came towards her quietly enough, the jeweler's box in his hand.

"I called before," he answered in his off-hand way. "You must have been out with poor old Searle."

"Oh," she said, "poor old Searle? Why poor?"

"I told you why before," he said boldly, in spite of himself. He was standing before her by the table, looking fairly into her eyes, with that dancing boyishness amazingly bright in his own. "You remember, too--you can't forget."

The flush in her cheeks increased. Her glance was lowered.

"You didn't give me time to--rebuke you for that," she answered, attempting to a.s.sume a tone of severity. "You had no right--it wasn't nice or like you in the least."

"Yes it was, nice, and like me," he corrected. "I've brought you a nugget from the claim." He opened the box and shook out the pin on the table.

She had started to make a reply concerning his actions when leaving on that former occasion. The words were pushed aside.

"Oh, my!" she said in a little exclamation, instead. "A nugget!--gold!--not from the--not from your claim?"

His hand slightly trembled.

"From the 'Laughing Water' claim. Named for the girl I'm going to marry."

She gasped, almost audibly. The things he said were so wholly unexpected--so almost naked in their bluntness.

"The girl--some girl you--Isn't it beautiful?" she faltered helplessly.

"Of course I don't know--how any girl could have such a singular name."

"Yes you do," he corrected in his shockingly candid way. "You know when Dave gave her the name."

"Do I?" she asked weakly, trying to smile, and feeling some wonderful, welcome sort of fear of the pa.s.sion with which he fairly glowed. "You are--very positive."

He moved a trifle closer, touching the pin, with a finger, as she held it in her hand. His voice slightly shook as he asked:

"Do you like it?"

"The pin? Of course. A genuine nugget! You were very kind, I'm sure."

"I thought when you and I ride over to the claim, some day, you ought to have a horse of your own," he announced in his manner of finality.

"So your horse and outfit are over at Charlie's, at your order."

She looked up at him swiftly. "My horse--over at Charlie's?"

"Yes, Charlie's--the hay-yard. I thought you liked a side-saddle best and I found a good one in the hay."

"But--I haven't any horse," she protested, failing for a moment to grasp his meaning. "How could I have a horse in Goldite?"

"You couldn't help having him--that's all--any more than you can help having me."

The light in his eyes was far too magnetic for her own brown glance to escape. She hardly knew what she was saying, or what she was thinking.

She was simply aflame with happiness in his presence--and she feared he must read it in her glance. That the horse was his gift she comprehended all at once--but--what had he said--what was it he had said, that she must answer? Her heart and her mind had coalesced.

There was love in both and little of reason in either. She knew he was holding her eyes to his with the sheer force of overwhelming love.

She tried to escape.

"You--mean-----"

He broke all control like a whirlwind.

"I mean I can't hold it any longer! I love you!--I love you to death!"

He took her in his arms suddenly, pa.s.sionately, crushing her almost fiercely against his heart. He kissed her on the lips--once--twice--a dozen times in half a minute--feeling the warm, moist softness in the contact and holding her pliant figure yet more closely.

She, too, was mad with it all, for a second. Then she began to battle with his might.

"Van!--Mr. Van!" she said, pushing his face away with a hand he might have devoured. "Let me go! Let me go! How dare---- You shan't! You shan't! Let me go!"

Her nature, in revolt for a moment against her better judgment, refused to do the bidding of her muscles. Then she gathered strength out of the whirlwind itself and pushed him away like a tigress.