The Zane Grey Megapack. Zane Grey
Читать онлайн книгу.
beyond expression to learn every day of his rapid improvement, living in the sweetness of her joy, and waiting for him. And now as he had come, so dark, so grave, so unlike a lover to woo, that she felt a chill steal over her.
“I’m so glad you’ve brought the arrow,” she faltered, “for, of course, coming so far means that you’re well once more.”
“You asked me for it, an’ I’ve fetched it over. Tomorrow I’m off on a trail I may never return from,” he answered simply, and his voice seemed cold.
An immeasurable distance stretched once more between them. Helen’s happiness slowly died.
“I thank you,” she said with a voice that was tremulous despite all her efforts.
“It’s not much of a keepsake.”
“I did not ask for it as a keepsake, but because—because I wanted it. I need nothing tangible to keep alive my memory. A few words whispered to me not many days ago will suffice for remembrance—or—or did I dream them?”
Bitter disappointment almost choked Helen. This was not the gentle, soft-voiced man who had said he loved her. It was the indifferent borderman. Again he was the embodiment of his strange, quiet woods. Once more he seemed the comrade of the cold, inscrutable Wetzel.
“No, lass, I reckon you didn’t dream,” he replied.
Helen swayed from sick bitterness and a suffocating sense of pain, back to her old, sweet, joyous, tumultuous heart-throbbing.
“Tell me, if I didn’t dream,” she said softly, her face flashing warm again. She came close to him and looked up with all her heart in her great dark eyes, and love trembling on her red lips.
Calmness deserted the borderman after one glance at her. He paced the floor; twisted and clasped his hands while his eyes gleamed.
“Lass, I’m only human,” he cried hoarsely, facing her again.
But only for a moment did he stand before her; but it was long enough for him to see her shrink a little, the gladness in her eyes giving way to uncertainty and a fugitive hope. Suddenly he began to pace the room again, and to talk incoherently. With the flow of words he gradually grew calmer, and, with something of his natural dignity, spoke more rationally.
“I said I loved you, an’ it’s true, but I didn’t mean to speak. I oughtn’t have done it. Somethin’ made it so easy, so natural like. I’d have died before letting you know, if any idea had come to me of what I was sayin’. I’ve fought this feelin’ for months. I allowed myself to think of you at first, an’ there’s the wrong. I went on the trail with your big eyes pictured in my mind, an’ before I’d dreamed of it you’d crept into my heart. Life has never been the same since—that kiss. Betty said as how you cared for me, an’ that made me worse, only I never really believed. Today I came over here to say good-bye, expectin’ to hold myself well in hand; but the first glance of your eyes unmans me. Nothin’ can come of it, lass, nothin’ but trouble. Even if you cared, an’ I don’t dare believe you do, nothin’ can come of it! I’ve my own life to live, an’ there’s no sweetheart in it. Mebbe, as Lew says, there’s one in Heaven. Oh! girl, this has been hard on me. I see you always on my lonely tramps; I see your glorious eyes in the sunny fields an’ in the woods, at gray twilight, an’ when the stars shine brightest. They haunt me. Ah! you’re the sweetest lass as ever tormented a man, an’ I love you, I love you!”
He turned to the window only to hear a soft, broken cry, and a flurry of skirts. A rush of wind seemed to envelop him. Then two soft, rounded arms encircled his neck, and a golden head lay on his breast.
“My borderman! My hero! My love!”
Jonathan clasped the beautiful, quivering girl to his heart.
“Lass, for God’s sake don’t say you love me,” he implored, thrilling with contact of her warm arms.
“Ah!” she breathed, and raised her head. Her radiant eyes darkly wonderful with unutterable love, burned into his.
He had almost pressed his lips to the sweet red ones so near his, when he drew back with a start, and his frame straightened.
“Am I a man, or only a coward?” he muttered. “Lass, let me think. Don’t believe I’m harsh, nor cold, nor nothin’ except that I want to do what’s right.”
He leaned out of the window while Helen stood near him with a hand on his quivering shoulder. When at last he turned, his face was colorless, white as marble, and sad, and set, and stern.
“Lass, it mustn’t be; I’ll not ruin your life.”
“But you will if you give me up.”
“No, no, lass.”
“I cannot live without you.”
“You must. My life is not mine to give.”
“But you love me.”
“I am a borderman.”
“I will not live without you.”
“Hush! lass, hush!”
“I love you.”
Jonathan breathed hard; once more the tremor, which seemed pitiful in such a strong man, came upon him. His face was gray.
“I love you,” she repeated, her rich voice indescribably deep and full. She opened wide her arms and stood before him with heaving bosom, with great eyes dark with woman’s sadness, passionate with woman’s promise, perfect in her beauty, glorious in her abandonment.
The borderman bowed and bent like a broken reed.
“Listen,” she whispered, coming closer to him, “go if you must leave me; but let this be your last trail. Come back to me, Jack, come back to me! You have had enough of this terrible life; you have won a name that will never be forgotten; you have done your duty to the border. The Indians and outlaws will be gone soon. Take the farm your brother wants you to have, and live for me. We will be happy. I shall learn to keep your home. Oh! my dear, I will recompense you for the loss of all this wild hunting and fighting. Let me persuade you, as much for your sake as for mine, for you are my heart, and soul, and life. Go out upon your last trail, Jack, and come back to me.”
“An’ let Wetzel go always alone?”
“He is different; he lives only for revenge. What are those poor savages to you? You have a better, nobler life opening.”
“Lass, I can’t give him up.”
“You need not; but give up this useless seeking of adventure. That, you know, is half a borderman’s life. Give it up, Jack, it not for your own, then for my sake.”
“No-no-never-I can’t-I won’t be a coward! After all these years I won’t desert him. No—no—”
“Do not say more,” she pleaded, stealing closer to him until she was against his breast. She slipped her arms around his neck. For love and more than life she was fighting now. “Good-bye, my love.” She kissed him, a long, lingering pressure of her soft full lips on his. “Dearest, do not shame me further. Dearest Jack, come back to me, for I love you.”
She released him, and ran sobbing from the room.
Unsteady as a blind man, he groped for the door, found it, and went out.
CHAPTER XVI
The longest day in Jonathan Zane’s life, the oddest, the most terrible and complex with unintelligible emotions, was that one in which he learned that the wilderness no longer sufficed for him.
He wandered through the forest like a man lost, searching for, he knew not what. Rambling along the shady trails he looked for that contentment which had always been his, but found it not. He plunged into the depths of deep, gloomy ravines; into the fastnesses of heavy-timbered hollows where the trees hid the light of day; he sought the open, grassy hillsides, and roamed far over meadow and plain. Yet something always eluded