"Here, drink with me, la.s.s," he said, holding the gla.s.s toward her.

"Drink with me, and fill again; there is enough for us both."

"No," said the girl, pushing the gla.s.s away; "not here or now."

Storms saw that the men around his portion of the table were occupied, and spoke to her in a swift, low voice:

"When and where?"

The girl gave her head a toss, and moved down the table, casting a look over her shoulder, which made the young man restless in his seat.

Directly she came back, and leaning close to him, while her hand was busy with the gla.s.ses, whispered sharply:

"To-night, after the house is closed, I want to see you, face to face, just once more."

"That will do," whispered Storms; "and a nice time I shall have of it," he thought, with some apprehension.

"A fine la.s.s that," said the man who sat nearest him, as the barmaid moved across the room, with the force and rude grace of a leopardess.

"Kin to the mistress here, isn't she--a cousin?"

The man spoke loud enough for others to hear, and followed the girl with bold, admiring eyes.

Storms answered him with sneering sarcasm. He felt this to be imprudent, but could not suppress the venom of his nature, even when his heart was quaking with terror.

"I have not inquired into her pedigree. You may be more interested.

She is a little out of my level."

He was about to say more, but checked himself, and ended his speech more cautiously: "If she has kinsfolk here, none of us ever heard of them."

"But where did she come from?" questioned the man, who was greatly interested in the singular girl. "Such black hair and eyes should be of a strange land. There is nothing English about her but her speech.

Look at her face; the color burns through it like wine."

"Now that she looks fierce," said another, "one sees how handsome a fiery woman can be. Some one has stirred up her temper. He may find himself the worse for it. The fellows are shy of angering her, take my word on that. She has a quick hand, and a sharp tongue; but her bright, comely face brings customers to the house. A tidy girl is the new one. Only keep the right side of her, that's all."

Just then the barmaid came back into the room. There was something in her appearance that might have reminded one of Ruth Jessup, could the soul of a wild animal have harbored in the form of that beautiful girl. The same raven hair, and large eyes; the same rich complexion, joined to features coa.r.s.er, sensuous, and capable of expressing many pa.s.sions that Ruth could not have imagined. As she stood, with a sort of easy grace, the purely physical resemblance was remarkable; but when she moved or spoke, it was gone. Then the coa.r.s.e nature came out, and overwhelmed the imagination.

"Where did she come from?" asked Judith's new admirer.

"Better ask her yourself," answered Storms, absolutely jealous that any one should admire the beauty he had begun to loathe.

"I will," said the man, and, leaving the table, he approached Judith with a jaunty exhibition of gallantry, which she received with a cold stare, and, turning from him, walked back into the bar.

Storms broke into a laugh, and followed the girl into her retreat.

Even in that brief interval he had arranged his plan of action, and carried it out adroitly. The girl knew that he was coming, and stood there, like a leopard in its den, ready to fight or be persuaded, as her heart swayed to love or resentment.

"This is madness; it is cruel to your old father--hard on me. Twice have I been to the house, and found it empty."

The fire went out of Judith's face. Bewildered, baffled and ready to cry, she turned away with a gesture that Storms took for unbelief of what was indeed a glib falsehood.

"No one could tell me where to look for you. Of all places in the world, how could I expect to find you here?"

"You have been to the old house?" said Judith. "Is this true? Tell me, is it the truth?"

"The truth!" repeated Storms, with a look of amazement. "What should prevent me going as usual?"

"Nothing but your own will. Nothing but--"

"But what, Judith?"

"But her--the girl that lives in the park at 'Norston's Rest.'"

"That story again! How often shall I be called upon to tell you it is sheer gossip?"

"But you told it yourself to the landlord at our village."

"Not as a fact; but amusing myself with the absurd things that are said about one; things that one repeats and laughs about with the first man he meets."

Judith bent her eyes downward; their proud defiance was extinguished; the heaviness of repentant shame fell upon her. Before she could speak, a call outside startled them both. Storms broke off the interview with some hurried s.n.a.t.c.hes of direction.

"Take the highway; here is a key to the little park-gate; turn to the left, the wilderness lies that way. In its darkest place you will come upon a lake. There is an old summer-house on the bank: I will be there; if not, wait for me. You will not mind the walk?"

"No, no!"

"Good-night, then."

Storms said this and was gone. Judith went back to the public room.

There the company had fallen into more confidential conversation.

"No wonder the young man is put about so," said one. "Old Jessup was as good as his father-in-law, and of course he feels it. Then there is a story going that the heir was over sweet on pretty Ruth, the daughter, and that, no doubt, has made more bitterness. For my part, I think the young man bears it uncommonly well."

"Uncommonly well," answered another. "This poaching in our cottages, whenever a young face happens to grow comely there, is a shame that no man should put up with. I shouldn't wonder if Jessup had made a stand against it, and got a bullet through him for interfering. Our young lords make nothing of putting an old man aside when he dares to stand between a pretty daughter and harm. But see how the law waits for them. Had it been Storms, now, he would have been in jail, waiting for the a.s.sizes. Yet who could have blamed him? The girl was his sweetheart, and a winsome la.s.s she is. But Storms will never wed her now."

"Wed her--as if the young gentleman ever thought of it!" said Judith, breaking into the conversation. "There is your beer, man; let it stop your mouth till more sense comes into it."

The man laughed and cast a knowing glance at his companions.

"Hoity-toity! Lies the wind in that quarter?" he said. "Well, I had begun to suspicion it."

This outburst was received with shouts of laughter, and a loud rattling of pewter. This was an ovation that the landlady liked to witness; for half the value of her new barmaid to the public house lay in her quick wit and saucy expression. Even the fierce pa.s.sions into which she was sometimes thrown amused the men who frequented that room, and enticed them there quite as much as the beer they drank.

"One thing is sure," said Judith's tormentor, renewing the conversation with keener zest: "Storms has lost a pretty wife and a good bit of money by this affray."

Judith turned deadly white, and specks of foam flew to her lips.

"Do you mean that?"

"Of course I mean it."

"That Richard Storms and Ruth Jessup would have been wed now, if this affray at the park had not happened? Is that what you mean?"

"Mean? Why, la.s.s, there is not a man here who does not know it. Ask him, if you can't believe us."