The Gold Trail Part 51

She felt the man's arms close about her, and his lips hot on her cheek; but in another moment he drew away from her.

"But this is madness," he said. "I have nothing. In a few more weeks I shall be an outcast."

"Ah," said Ida, "you have given me all that counts for anything, and"--she looked up at him with shining eyes and burning cheeks--"you belong to me."

He stood silent for several moments, with trouble in his face, apparently struggling with himself.

"What are you thinking of?" she asked,

Weston raised his head.

"I dare not think," he said. "I've won you by unfair means--and yet, knowing that, I'm only filled with the exultation of it. Still, this thing has to be faced and decided now. You know I love you--but is it right that you should be bound to a man who may never be able to marry you?"

"Is that any great obstacle," asked Ida, "if I don't object?"

"It is," said Weston, hoa.r.s.ely. "I want you now."

The girl was almost startled by the change in him. His restraint had broken down once for all, at last, and she saw by the tension in his face and the glow in his eyes that his nature was stirred to its depths. In a moment or two, however, he seemed to succeed in imposing a partial control upon himself.

"I had meant to come to you only when we had made the mine a success,"

he said.

"To save your pride!--you could think of that?"

Weston laughed harshly.

"My pride--there isn't a shred of it left. But now, at least, the situation has to be faced."

"Is it so very dreadful?" asked Ida, with a smile. "You have told me that you love me. Is that a thing to be ashamed of? Must I tell you that I am glad you came to me when you were beaten, and not when you had won? Is there anything that I should trouble myself about?"

"Your friends' opinion, your father's opposition----"

He broke off, and Ida, who turned in her chair, looked around suddenly with her cheeks flushed.

"My father," she said, "is able to speak for himself."

Weston started, for he saw Stirling standing just inside the doorway looking at them gravely. Their att.i.tude and the girl's expression would, he realized, be significant to a man of the contractor's intelligence. Then Ida rose and faced the elder man.

"I think I would better tell you that I have promised to marry Mr.

Weston when things are propitious," she said. She looked around at Weston with a smile. "At least, I suppose I have."

"Ah!" said Stirling, dryly, "the situation rather suggested it. Mr.

Weston has, no doubt, something to say to me."

Ida glanced at Weston and slipped out of the room.

CHAPTER x.x.xI

HIGH-GRADE ORE

Stirling waited until the door closed before he turned to Weston.

"Sit down. We've got to have a straight talk," he said.

Weston complied, feeling that he had to face the most unpleasant few minutes he had ever spent in his life. He had given way to his pa.s.sion in a moment of desperation, and he fancied that he could make no defense which would appear reasonable to such a man as his companion.

In spite of this, he was filled with a certain reckless exultation.

Ida Stirling loved him.

"What Miss Stirling told you was correct," he said. "At least, I intend to marry her if ever--things are propitious; but, as far as I can remember, she did not bind herself."

"There are occasions when one's memory gets a little confused," said Stirling, dryly. "You have made the situation quite clear; but there are one or two points to consider, and, so far, you haven't troubled to ascertain my views on the matter."

"That remark," said Weston, "is quite warranted. I have only this to say. When I entered your house half an hour ago I hadn't the faintest notion that I should permit my feelings to run away with me."

"Then this thing has been going on for quite a time?"

Stirling's tone was coldly even, but Weston did not like the question.

The form of it rather jarred on him. He realized, however, that he was on his defense, and would probably have to put up with a good deal more than that.

"I have had a strong regard for Miss Stirling since I first met her in British Columbia," he said. "That, however, is all I can admit. I do not know how she thought of me, and I have, at least, never knowingly, until this evening, spoken a word which could show her what my feelings were."

"Oh," said Stirling, "you've lived in the woods. If you hadn't, you'd have found out by now that young women possess a certain faculty of putting things together. Anyway," he added enigmatically, "I don't know that the bush isn't as good a place to raise a man in as the hothouse Susan Frisingham talked about."

Weston gazed at him in some astonishment, but the contractor made a little gesture with his hand.

"Well," he said, "you meant to keep the thing to yourself?"

"Until I had made the Grenfell Consolidated a success, when I should have come to you."

"Quite the proper course," commented Stirling. "It's kind of a pity you didn't stick to it. When you had arrived at that wise decision, why did you come here to talk to my daughter?"

It was a shrewd question, and perfectly warranted, but Weston answered it candidly.

"I think I came because I could not stay away," he said.

"Then it never occurred to you that my daughter might fall in love with you?"

A flush crept into Weston's face.

"At least," he said, "I never came here with the intention of profiting by that possibility."

Stirling laughed in a rather dry fashion.

"Then she was to do it all at once, when you intimated that she had permission to?"