The Land of Strong Men Part 52

"Because Angus can look after himself--and a wife."

Chetwood's perennially cheerful expression sobered. "That's rather a hard one. I'm not quite helpless, really."

"I'm sorry," Jean said simply. "But I meant just what I said. The country is new to you and you're new to the country, and we can't be married till you find yourself. It wouldn't be fair to either of us. I'm putting it up to you to make good, Billy."

Chetwood nodded soberly, but his eyes smiled.

"I'll make good," he said. "I'll go and see this Judge Riley--about a homestead. And now, Jean darling, will you oblige me by the size of that pretty little third finger."

"You are not to spend any money on rings. Keep it for the homestead."

"Oh da--er--I mean high heaven hates a piker. Can't allow you to go ringless. It's not done, really. I'm going to have my own way. Nothing elaborate. Just a simple, little ring, costing, say, fifty pounds--"

"Fifty pounds!" Jean gasped. "Two hundred and fifty dollars! Why, I couldn't--"

"Does sound more in dollars. Tell you what I'll do. I have a ring at home. It belonged to my mother. I'll send for it if you don't mind."

"I should be proud of your mother's ring," said Jean.

"I think," said Chetwood, "that she would be proud to have you wear it."

"Billy," said Jean, "that's just the nicest thing you ever said--or ever will say."

CHAPTER XXVIII

MRS. FOLEY ON MARRIAGE

Faith and Angus were to be married at Faith's ranch. There was small preparation, to the scandal of Mrs. Foley.

"Sure I niver thought to see ye go off this way, wid no style about ye!"

she mourned. "Foour min have I tuk, hopin' th' bether an' gettin' th'

worse, but annyways ivery time they was lashin's to ate an' dhrink, an'

all the folks there we knowed an' plenty we didn't. But here ye're fixin' for n.o.body at all."

"Well, there won't be anybody," Faith replied. "It's to be a very quiet wedding."

"Ye may say that," Mrs. Foley agreed. "All th' differ' bechune it an' a death-bed will be a docther an' a nurse."

"Oh it's not as bad as that, Mary," Faith laughed. "I really prefer it that way."

"Bein' a woman mesilf, I know ye're lyin'," Mrs. Foley returned uncompromisingly. "'Tis not the nacher iv us to dispinse wid frills in annything."

Faith laughed, stifling a sigh. She had had her dreams. But she was quite content. Mrs. Foley ran on:

"Sure, thin, iver since ye was a little tot I've been thinkin' that some day I'd see ye comin' up th' aisle in a big church on yer blessed father's arrum, all in white wid a big bookay an' veil an' orange blossoms an' all; an' th' organist tearin' th' bowils out iv th' organ whiles, an' th' choir rippin' loose; an' a foine fat bishop or th'

loikes, wid a grand voice rowlin' th' solemn words out in his chist.

An' aftherwards atin' an' dhrinkin' an speechifyin', an' showers iv rice an' shoes an' white ribbon be th' yarrd. Thim's th' things I t'ought f'r to see. An' instid iv that, ye will stand up in privut in a shack in a neck iv woods, an' have th' words said over ye by a dom', wryneck, Gospel George iv a heretic pulpit-poundher, that's dhruv out in a buckboord dhrawed be a foundhered ha.r.r.s.e, to do th' job loike a plumber comes. Well, G.o.d's will be done. An' mebbe yer second weddin' will be diff'rent. Though they's never th' peachbloom on th' second they is on th' first, worse luck."

"Mary! what a thing to say!" Faith cried. "There will never be a second wedding for me."

"Ye say so--knowin' nawthin'," Mrs. Foley responded. "All wimmin say so before they're first married, knowin' nawthin' iv marriage; an' half iv thim swear it to thimselves before they've been married a year, knowin'

too much. But sure 'tis th' nacher iv us to take chances, or we'd niver marry at all. An' f'r why should a young widdy woman like yerself go lonely all yer days?"

"Heavens, Mary, stop it!" Faith shuddered. "Talking like that before I'm married at all. I'm not a widow; I won't be a widow."

"I'm wan foour times," Mrs. Foley observed. "An' I've knowed thim that wud have give their sowls to be wan just wanst. Ye niver can tell."

"To judge by Angus' looks I won't be a widow for a long time," Faith laughed.

Mrs. Foley shook her head sagely. "Nor ye can't tell about that. Sthrong th' lad is, but he's voylent, an' voylent min come to quick ends."

"Violent? Nonsense! He never loses his temper."

"All min lose their timpers," Mrs. Foley a.s.serted; "an' th' quoiter th'

man th' bigger divil he is whin he starts. Thim kind is th' worst. It's not f'r nawthin' he carries that harrd face."

"His face isn't hard," Faith contradicted indignantly.

Mrs. Foley waved her hand. "I was speakin' in parables, loike. I'm not meanin' it's bad-lookin' he is, but he's harrd. He's th' kind that niver forgives wrong or slight, an' it wud shtrain him awful to forgive th'

same. They's a divil lives deep down in him, I'm tellin' ye, that's best left asleep."

"Bosh!" said Faith.

"Ye say that, bein' ign'rant iv min," Mrs. Foley told her gravely. "I believe he loves ye thrue, an' ut's little th' life iv a man wud be worth who should speak a light word iv ye, or lay a hand on ye in other than respect, if he knew it. But take ye heed, my gyurl, niver to rouse that sleepin' divil an' have him peep at ye through the eyes of yer man.

Niver, as ye value yer station as a wife, give him annything to forgive in ye as a wife. Forgive it he might, but forget it he niver would."

Faith, her smooth cheeks aflame, drew herself up haughtily. "You have no right to speak to me like that."

"I am takin' th' right," Mrs. Foley replied steadily. "Do I not know ye for what ye are--a little lady born an' bred, pure-minded an'

high-minded? Ye blush whin an old woman that's seen th' rough iv ut calls a spade a spade. I wud tear th' eyes out iv man or woman that spoke ill of ye. But ye are a woman, an' women will be women, and min min, foriver an' a day."

"You have never spoken to me so before. Why do you do it now?"

"Bekase ye are about to take a man," Mrs. Foley replied. "A colleen is her own woman, wid none but herself to gyard an' care for; but a wife is her man's woman, an' besides herself she must gyard an' care for her man an' his love for her. The wise wife will gyard herself closer nor whin she was a maid, an' she will gyard her man closer nor his mother."

"Angus may trust me," Faith said proudly, "as I trust him."

"An' well f'r both iv ye," said Mrs. Foley, "if as ye say now in yer youth ye do till ye have grandchilder." She wound a great arm around Faith and drew her to her ample bosom. "There, there, gyurl iv me heart!

Forgive th' rough tongue iv an owld woman wid a long, harrd road behind her. Th' lad is a rale man, if iver I saw wan. An' as f'r th' divil in him, I wouldn' give a snap iv me thumb for a man widout wan."

Whereat Faith, being motherless and in spite of her independence lonely as well, cried a little and so did Mrs. Foley, and both enjoyed it very much.

The wedding took place a few days later. Kathleen French was the only one of her family present. Turkey would not come, sending Jean an excuse. Faith had never even seen him.

There was no wedding trip. But after a few days at the Mackay ranch Angus began to arrange excursions. So far as he could see, it was now merely a matter of weeks till the place had another owner, probably Braden. He had done his best, and he was more or less resigned to the inevitable. With the resignation a load of worry dropped from his shoulders. Later he must make a fresh start, but now he would enjoy the present.