The Man from Jericho Part 14

He had a half formed notion when he left town to stop at the Dudleys for a moment, and when, driving somewhat slowly in front of the house, he saw Julia bending over gathering nasturtiums, his tentative idea became a fixed resolution. He left his horse at the gate, securing him to one of the iron palings, and went up the drive afoot. She had seen him coming, and she walked forward to meet him, her face tinting delicately, and a smile showing through the look of anxiety which she wore. She gave him a pliant palm, holding a huge armful of vari-coloured blooms to her breast with her other hand--the flowers spread out over her, a wonderful breast-plate of gorgeous hues. Some matched her cheeks, and some her lips, and some her throat, which had a.s.sumed a shy pink as she came within arm's length of John, standing with hat breast high, and searching eyes. He took her hand and held it a moment longer than was necessary, but she waited until he released it, and made no effort to draw it away. He did not attempt to veil the candid admiration which beamed from his face.

"You are looking _very_ well this morning, if you will allow the compliment," he said, gravely, and she quickly noted the weary note in his voice. "I'm sure this flower bed is the most fitting environment you could possibly have. You seem one of them."

The blood rushed up in torrents at his words, and she turned scarlet. To hide all this she buried her face for a moment in the armful of nasturtiums. Her eyes were a-sparkle when she lifted her head at once, and said, reproachfully:

"Why did you run away yesterday before any of us could see you?"

"One saw me, and I left a message with him. It was too early for either you or your father to be up. Did Peter not tell you that all went well?"

"Yes, he told us that, and I went down myself to look at The Prince.

Come here a moment, Doctor Glenning."

She crossed the drive with a faint swish of drapery, and walked across the lawn to the base of a large maple, not many yards from the front door of the mansion. Beneath this tree, resting against it, was an iron settee of ornamental design. Lying upon the settee was a large revolver.

Julia picked it up, c.o.c.ked as it was, and held it out, muzzle earthward.

"I found this, too, inside under the window. It isn't yours, is it?"

John recognized immediately the weapon he had wrested from the hand of Travers, and which he had neglected to procure before leaving the smoke-house.

"No, it isn't mine," he replied, readily.

"Peter said that you told him to say to us that nothing had happened."

"He did not quote me correctly. I told him to say that nothing of _consequence_ had happened."

"Whose revolver is this, Doctor Glenning?"

"It belongs to the man who came to shoot The Prince."

Julia gave a little start, and uttered an involuntary exclamation.

"You--" she began, then stopped and looked at him, her breath coming faster.

"I didn't see any use in making a fuss about it, you see," explained John, smiling. "Travers came, as we all knew he would, and I just waited and let him walk into the trap which Uncle Peter set when he cut that window, and baited when he led the colt in. That's all there is to it."

"Let's sit down," suggested Julia.

Then, side by side upon the settee, the revolver still in her hand, she resumed:

"This is a fearful looking thing. Did he have this?"

"Yes, that's what he came hunting with near three o'clock in the morning. It would kill an elephant if properly handled."

"How did you happen to get possession of it?"

"I see you must have the whole story," said John, with his inimitable chuckle, and thereat he proceeded, very faithfully and very accurately, to recount the entire tale.

Julia drew back in wonder as she listened.

"And you _held_ him!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide and her brows contracted in surprise. Doubtless she did not know it, but her gaze went sweeping over the man, from top to toe, and her mind was wondering where all that power was stored, for he was very lean, though wonderfully broad of shoulder.

"Yes, it was easy, for I really took him at an unfair advantage, but it was the only way--that or nothing."

"Yes," she said, but nothing more, for she could not understand him. But she knew there was a sweet feeling of security when he was near. He could do anything; of that she was entirely confident.

"There's small-pox in the county," said John, presently, with such sudden irrelevance that the girl half rose from her seat.

"Where?"

"Some paupers out this road--I don't think you need be scared. I'm waiting on them."

"You!"

"Yes, I'm a doctor, you know. Old Mr. Hoonover came in yesterday afternoon with the news, and I am constrained to believe that it was more a matter of personal interest with him than it was love for his neighbour. He lives close to them. But what's worse than small-pox is the fact that I was compelled to strike Devil Marston yesterday afternoon on the streets of your town."

He rapidly detailed the encounter. Julia was all interest and concern, and hovered on his words eagerly, yet with dread.

"Travers told me last night that he's gone to Jericho," concluded Glenning.

"What for?"

"To try and ruin me, Miss Dudley!"

John turned upon her with a face every lineament of which bespoke suffering and strength.

"I came away from there, my friend, because had I stayed I would have gone to h.e.l.l, along the broadest and most flowery of all the broad and flowery ways which lead there. My feet had turned in at that wide gate--G.o.d forgive me!--when all at once I awoke! I can't tell you now--I have no right--but some day I will tell you, some day when we know each other better, and there's nothing which makes for quick and understanding companionship like a common danger. We are each threatened, you the most, poor girl, for you cannot fight--but I have strength for two--" he stopped, and shut his teeth. He had nearly gone too far. Then he leaned towards her and took one of her hands, crushing it in both of his almost roughly. The flowers fell in a gorgeous heap between them, strewing her lap with their fresh beauty. He looked steadily into her eyes, and she looked back into his, fearlessly and earnestly.

"Trust me!" he said, in a strained voice. "Trust me! Believe in me! It will come to you! Devil Marston will not let his news suffer for want of garnishment--and you will hear! Am I asking too much to ask for your faith and trust? It means much to me--now! It means more to me than all of life, I believe--right now! Will you do it? Will you believe in me?

It is going to be a strong test, Miss Dudley. Answer me!"

The situation was new and strange to the girl who had never known aught of life save that which the peaceful environs of home had disclosed.

She knew nothing of the world--of its wickedness, trials and sins. She had never seen a strong man wrought up to a pitch like this; she had never heard such words before, and now she but vaguely sensed their meaning. She knew that she was trembling, but she was not afraid, for cowardice did not run in her blood. She knew that her hand was aching under the force he had unconsciously put upon it. Her eyes beheld the melancholy shadows which dwelt perpetually in his; she saw the fresh scars on his forehead and cheek where the burns had not yet healed--the singed hair. And back of it all she seemed to see his soul, suffering, but clean! A half sob struggled in her throat.

"I don't know what you mean!" she said, with child-like candour which was almost pitiful. "But I know you are a man! Nothing can change that opinion, Doctor Glenning, I do believe in you, and I have faith in you, and trust you!"

"Thank G.o.d!" he said, huskily, and released her hand.

They sat without speaking for several minutes. Peter appeared upon the other side of the lawn, hoe in hand, diligently searching for any weeds which might have come up within the last few days.

"Father is not very well this morning," Julia began, her hand straying absently among the scattered nasturtiums. "He fears a breakdown, and has been talking a great deal of his brother, my uncle Arthur, who went west before I was born, and from whom we haven't heard for years. We don't know whether he's living or not, and this distresses father, for he says he would like above all things to see him now."

"That is strange. How long has it been since you had a letter?"

"Oh, many years. Not since I was quite a little girl."

"I'm sorry to hear the Major is indisposed. Try and keep him in a cheerful mood if you can. It won't do for a man of his age to grow despondent. I fear these troubles which have come to him are the cause."

"Yes, he is so unlike himself. I suspect I had better go to him now."