Winston's hand was again on her arm, restraining her. She tried to free herself, but try as she would, she could not make the action final.

Winston's hand slipped down her arm till her hand rested in his.

"Helen, I would say all of this for the sake of friendship alone--"

She strove to draw her hand from his.

"Stop, Ralph, stop right there."

"I will not." Winston's grasp tightened, he was drawing her towards him in spite of herself. "There is more than friendship, Helen. There is love. I cannot tell you how much; you will have to let me teach you."

His arm was around her now, his eyes striving to look into her own. The pulse of his words, the light of his eyes, the touch of his hand, there was in all these the clear, strong definition between mine and thine.

Mine to desire, mine to ask, mine to plead for my desires; thine to give or to withhold that which is all and more than all to me. My heart, my life, my love; thy acceptance of my offering. No selfish pleading, no imperative demand, only a right to ask in undoubting confidence that which it was hers to give or to withhold. She felt his breath on her cheek, the warm glow of his lips nearer and nearer. She could not put them away; her heart cried out against it. Her will to resist, to act as her conscience dictated, was weakening. Only to be at rest, as she was resting now, at peace, no doubts, no fears; she longed for what in strength of mind and purity of heart he was offering her.

His clasp grew closer. Why should she not accept? Her senses were reeling in an ecstasy of surrender that gives all and gains all in the giving. As in a delicious yet terrifying dream, she shrank closer to the protecting arms that would shield her forever.

"Tell me, Helen, that you love me, not as I love you, that is too much to ask, but tell me that you love me."

Her lips trembled in voiceless reply. How she longed to speak the words he desired her to utter. Why could she not? Then her eyes opened wide.

Here was a clean heart and a pure life at her feet, strong, throbbing words pleading with her to accept the offering. What had she to give in return? What was she about to give? A stained heart; how deeply stained she did not, could not know, but stained, in exchange for a pure white soul.

She tore herself from his arms and stood before him, her hands outstretched against him. Her great black eyes were wide, and deep, and unfathomable. Only from their depths, a glow of longing love shone forth; of longing, sorrowing love, of sorrow for herself and of love for the man before her; yet love controlled by a will as strong as the strength of right could make it.

There was an answering light in the eyes that met her own. In them was pain and pleading, but no doubt. His hands reached out to hers that had put him away, but they dropped before they touched.

"Helen, your eyes have answered me." There was a deep throb of exultation in his voice. "But let me hear you speak."

She stood with pale face and laboring breath. Her voice shook with the intensity of her emotion.

"I love you, Ralph. More than I can tell you in a lifetime, I love you."

She spoke in obedience to a power beyond her will to control.

Winston sprang toward her, but her hand rested on his breast. She could feel the strong, even throb of his heart and this strengthened her will to resist.

"Listen, Ralph!" Her voice was intense but low; every word pierced like pencils of light in deep waters. "I have been cruel, mercilessly, selfishly cruel. I longed to hear you say what you have said. All my life I shall remember it as a penance for the wrong I have done you."

"I will not listen to such words." He clasped the hand that rested on his breast, but she tore it away.

"Don't tempt me further, Ralph."

He was again close beside her.

"Tell me all, Helen. You have given me the right to know."

"I have not, I cannot. If I should tell you, you would despise me. If I granted your wish, all my life I should loathe myself."

Ralph stood with eyes undoubting, unconvinced, but he could go no farther.

"Is it forever, Helen, hopelessly forever?"

"Don't ask me, Ralph, but forgive me." Her eyes were shining with unshed tears. "I am afraid it is. Will you, can you forgive me?"

Winston's lips set. There was a determination in his eyes that was yet softened by a great love.

"I have nothing to forgive. I love you and I shall always love you.

Nothing you have said or can say will change it or weaken it. You do not see clearly now. Some time you will. Then I shall claim you and you will come to me."

Helen could trust herself no further, nor could she still the throb of hope his words had kindled. Was she mistaken after all? Was her sin as she saw it, but a gigantic empty shadow resting on a vanishing cloud which the clear light of reason would melt away? There had been conviction in his words, "Sometime you will see clearly, then you will come to me."

She was to outward appearances her old self as she mingled once more with the visitors on the way back to Ysleta. The enthusiastic crowd declared that they would see to it that the completion of the great dam was duly celebrated, and with one accord they voted that Helen was to swing the last stone into place. Helen objected, but to no purpose. She was told that it had all been arranged between them and Winston.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Seymour did not arrive in Ysleta as soon as Winston and Uncle Sid had expected, yet there was no doubt that he had heard of the Pacific failure and the consequent loss of a considerable amount of the company's funds. There was also no doubt that the news of Elijah's transactions with Mellin had been transmitted to him. His non-appearance puzzled them somewhat, but the fact that he had communicated with no one, officially at least, partly explained the situation to them. It must be that he felt perfectly secure and was taking his own time in which to act. Uncle Sid had not been ruffled and he went so far as to advise Winston against worry.

"Seymour's fixin' things to do when he gets out here. What's time for him is time for us. Let's you an' me fix up things while he's thinkin'

about it." And that is what they proceeded to do and very effectively.

As a matter of fact, a prosaic wash-out on the line had prevented Seymour's bodily presence in Ysleta, but it had hampered in no way the presence of his spirit, nor did it hamper his thoughts. The rumor of Elijah's defalcation had not disturbed Seymour seriously. He imagined he knew for what purpose the money had been diverted. He shrewdly guessed that it had been spent in the acquisition of new land. This was not displeasing, for the land could not get away and he could frighten Elijah into disgorging.

Seymour had been especially attracted by Winston. In the bottom of his heart, he had resolved at a fitting time to gather that young man to himself. His intentions were not born of purely philanthropic motives, for experience had taught him that greater heights can be scaled by the aid of others than by una.s.sisted efforts. He felt sure that no one in California knew better what land was worth while and what was not, than Winston and Elijah; therefore, he again concluded that his money was really well invested. And so it happened that, after the wash-out had been repaired, he placidly resumed his journey.

Meanwhile Winston and Uncle Sid were at the Rio Vista.

"I think," Winston was saying, "that that wash-out has saved the day."

"I bet Mr. Seymour's been studyin' how to do things, an' while he's been studyin', we've been an' done 'em, that is, pretty near." Uncle Sid wheeled around in his chair and faced Winston. "Have you seen 'Lige lately?"

"No. I'm pretty sure that he's keeping out of sight purposely. I can't make anything out of him these days. He's taking an unusual amount of interest in my work lately. He's been from one end of the ca.n.a.l line to the other and I don't believe that there's a single stone or a shovelful of dirt in the whole dam that he doesn't know the size of; and yet I never run across him. I hear that he's giving the dam his especial attention just now."

"More than Helen?" Uncle Sid looked bluntly at Winston.

"Oh, that reminds me." Winston was trying to speak indifferently. "The dam will be finished next week. Helen is to swing the last stone into position. She said that she thought you would make up a party to go up with her."

"You'll start the first of the week? Yes, I guess I'll go." Uncle Sid was certain of it.

"Then I'll go up in a day or two and get things ready for you. The gates are closed, you know, and the reservoir is nearly full. The rains in the mountains have been unusually heavy this season."

"How are you makin' out with Mellin?"

Winston's smile was not pleasant to contemplate.

"I've got him all done but the finishing. He talked fight when I left him, but I think this will take it out of him." Winston held out a bundle of papers to Uncle Sid. "Do you want to look them over?"