"That's not a heap like you, Betty," was all he said.

"Isn't it?" The girl turned to the window. The dirt on the gla.s.s made it difficult for her to see out of it, but she gazed at it steadily.

"I suppose you'll think me a mean, heartless creature," she said slowly. "You'll think little enough of my promises, and still less of--of my loyalty." She paused. Then she raised her head and turned to him again. "I cannot marry Jim. I cannot undertake his reformation. I cannot give up my life to a man whom I now know I never really loved. I know you will not understand. I know, only too well, your own lofty spirit, your absolute unselfishness. I know that had you been in my place you would have fulfilled your promise at any cost. But I can't. I simply can't."

"No."

It was the man's only comment. But his mind was busy. He knew Betty so well that he understood a great deal without asking questions.

"Aunt Mary and uncle know my decision," the girl went on. "They know I am here, and that I am going to see Jim in your presence. You see, I thought if I sent for him to come to our house he might refuse. He might insult uncle again. I thought, somehow, it would be different with you."

Dave nodded.

"I don't blame your uncle and aunt for making you give him up," he said. "I'd have done it in their place."

"Yet you appealed for him?"

Betty's eyes questioned him.

"Sure, I promised to help him. That was before the bazaar."

Suddenly Betty held out her hands with a little appealing movement.

Dave wanted to seize them and crush them in his own, but he did not stir.

"Tell me you don't think badly of me. Tell me you do not think me a heartless, wretched woman. I have thought and thought, and prayed for guidance. And now it seems to me I am a thoroughly wicked girl. But I cannot--I must not marry him."

The man rose abruptly from his seat. He could no longer look into her troubled eyes and keep his own secret. When he spoke it was with his back to her, as he made a pretense of filling his pipe at the tobacco jar on the table. His voice was deep with emotion.

"I thank G.o.d you've decided," he said. "You've done right by everybody.

And you've shown more courage refusing him than if you'd gone through with your promise, because you've done it against your conscience. No, little Betty," he went on, turning to her again with infinite kindness in his steady eyes, "there's no one can call you heartless, or any other cruel name--and--and they'd better not in my hearing," he finished up clumsily.

A few minutes later the rattle of buckboard wheels sounded outside, and before Betty could reply Dave took the opportunity of going to the door. Jim Truscott was standing outside with the gigantic Simon Odd close behind him, much in the manner of a warder watching his prisoner.

The flicker of a smile came and went in the lumberman's eyes at the sight. Then his attention was held by the anger he saw in Jim's dissipated face. He was not a pleasant sight. His eyes were heavy and bloodshot, and the lines about them were accentuated by his general unwashed appearance. Even at that distance, as they stood there facing each other, he caught the reek of stale brandy the man exhaled. His clothes, too, had the appearance of having been flung on hurriedly, and the shirt and collar he wore were plainly filthy. Altogether he was an object for pity, and at the same time it was not possible to feel anything for him but a profound repugnance.

"He was abed," said the giant Odd, the moment Dave appeared. Then with a complacent grin, "But he guessed he'd come right along when I told him you was kind o' busy an' needed him important."

But Jim's angry face flamed.

"Nothing of the sort. This d.a.m.ned ruffian of yours dragged me out, blast him."

"Cut it!" Dave warned him sharply. "There's a lady here to see you.

Come right in."

The warning had instant effect. Truscott stepped into the room and stood face to face with Betty. Dave closed the door and stood aside.

For a few intense moments no word was spoken. The man stared stupidly into the girl's unsmiling face; then he looked across at Dave. It was Betty who finally broke the silence.

"Well, Jim," she said kindly, "at last we meet." She noted all the signs of dissipation in the young face, which, but a few years ago, had been so fresh and clean and good-looking. Now it was so different, and, to her woman's eyes, there was more than the mere outward signs. There was a spirit looking out of his bloodshot eyes that she did not recognize. It was as though the soul of the man had changed; it had degenerated to a lower grade. There was something unwholesome in his expression, as though some latent brutality had been stirred into life, and had obliterated every vestige of that clean, boyish spirit that had once been his.

"And," she went on, as he remained silent, "you had to be cajoled into coming to see me."

Still the man did not speak. Whether it was shame that held him silent it was impossible to tell. Probably not, for there was a steadily growing light in his eyes that suggested thoughts of anything but of a moral tone. He was held by her beauty--he was held as a man is sometimes held by some ravishing vision that appeals to his lower senses. He lost no detail of her perfect woman's figure, the seductive contours so wonderfully moulded. His eyes drank in the sight, and it set his blood afire.

Dave never turned his eyes. He too was watching. And he understood, and resented, the storm that was lashing through the man's veins.

"Have you nothing to say to me after these long years?" the girl asked again, forced to break the desperate silence. Then the woman in her found voice, "Oh! Jim, Jim! the pity of it. And I thought you so strong."

Dave clenched his hands at his sides, but made no other movement. Then Betty's manner suddenly changed. All the warmth died out of her voice, and, mistress of herself again, she went straight to her object.

"Jim, it was I who sent for you. I asked Dave to do this for me."

"A word from you would have been enough," the man said, with a sudden fire that lost nothing of its fierce pa.s.sion in the hoa.r.s.e tone in which he spoke.

"A word from me?" There was unconscious irony in the girl's reply.

"Yes, a word. I know. You are thinking of when your uncle came to me; you're thinking of our first meeting on the bridge; you're thinking of yesterday. I was drunk. I admit it. But I'm not always drunk. I tell you a word from you would have been enough."

The girl's eyes reproached him.

"A word from me, after five years' absence? It seems to me you should not have needed a word from me. Jim, had you come to me, whatever your state, poor or rich, it would have made no difference to me. I should have met you as we parted, ready to fulfil my pledge."

"You mean----"

The man's bloodshot eyes were alight. A tremendous pa.s.sion was urging him to the limits of his restraining powers. He had almost forgotten where he was. He had quite forgotten Dave. The sight of this woman with her beautiful figure, her sweet face and serious eyes, almost maddened him. He was from the wilds, where he had long since buried his wholesome youthful ideals. The life he had lived had entirely deadened all lofty thought. He only saw with a brain debased to the level of the animal. He desired her. He madly desired her now that he had seen her again, and he realized that his desire was about to be thwarted.

Betty drew back a step. The movement was unconscious. It was the woman's instinct at the sight of something threatening which made her draw away from the pa.s.sion she saw blazing in his eyes. Dave silently watched the man.

"I mean," said the girl solemnly, "that you have made our pledge impossible. I mean," she went on, with quiet dignity, "that I cannot marry you now, even if you wish it. No, no," as Jim made a sudden movement to speak, "it is quite useless to discuss the matter further.

I insisted on this meeting to settle the matter beyond question. Dave here witnessed our engagement, and I wished him to witness its termination. You will be better free, and so shall I. There could have been no happiness in a marriage between us----"

"But I won't give you up," the man suddenly broke out. He had pa.s.sed the narrow limits of his restraint. His face flushed and showed blotched in the sudden scarlet. For a second, after that first fiery outburst, no words came. Then the torrent flowed forth. "Is this what I went away for? Is this what I have slaved for in the wilds of the Yukon? Is this what I am to find now that I have made the money you desired? No, no, you can't get rid of me like that; you don't mean it, you can't mean it. Betty, I want you more than anything on earth," he rushed on, his voice dropping to a persuasive note. "I want you, and without you life is nothing to me. I must have you!" He took a step forward. But it was only a step, for the girl's steady eyes held him, and checked his further advance. And something in her att.i.tude turned his mood to one of fierce protest. "What is it that has come between us? What is it that has changed you?"

Betty s.n.a.t.c.hed at his pause.

"Such questions come well from you, Jim," she said, with some bitterness. "You know the truth. You do not need me to tell you." Her tone suddenly let the demon in the man loose. His pa.s.sion-lit eyes lowered, and a furtive, sinister light shone in them when he lifted them again.

"I know. I understand," he cried. "This is an excuse, and it serves you well." The coldness of his voice was in painful contrast to his recent pa.s.sion. "The old story, eh? You have found some one else. I never thought much of a woman's promise, anyhow. I wonder who it is." Then with a sudden vehemence. "But you shan't marry him. Do you hear? You shan't while I am----"

"Quit it!"

Dave's great voice suddenly filled the room and cut the man's threats short.

Jim turned on him in a flash; until that moment he had entirely forgotten the lumberman. He eyed the giant for a second. Then he laughed cynically.

"Oh, I'd forgotten you. Of course," he went on. "I see now. I never thought of it before. I remember, you were on the bridge together when I first----"

Dave had taken a couple of strides and now stood between the two. His movement silenced the man, while he addressed himself to Betty.

"You're finished with him?" he inquired in a deep, harsh voice.