THE COLLECTED WORKS OF CHARLOTTE PERKINS GILMAN: Short Stories, Novels, Poems & Essays. Charlotte Perkins Gilman
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what's better, it's all in good running order, with a competent ranchman, and two Chinese who rent the vegetable part. And there are two houses on it—two. One for mother and the girls, and one for us!"
Diantha's heart stirred suddenly.
"Where is it, dear?" she whispered.
He laughed joyfully. "It's here!" he said. "About eight miles or so out, up by the mountains; has a little canyon of its own—its own little stream and reservoir. Oh, my darling! My darling!"
They sat in happy silence in the perfumed night. The strong arms were around her, the big shoulder to lean on, the dear voice to call her "little girl."
The year of separation vanished from their thoughts, and the long years of companionship opened bright and glorious before them.
"I came this afternoon," he said at length, "but I saw another man coming. He got here first. I thought—"
"Ross! You didn't! And you've left me to go without you all these hours!"
"He looked so confident when he went away that I was jealous," Ross admitted, "furiously jealous. And then your mother was here, and then those cackling girls. I wanted you—alone."
And then he had her, alone, for other quiet, happy moments. She was so glad of him. Her hold upon his hand, upon his coat, was tight.
"I don't know how I've lived without you," she said softly.
"Nor I," said he. "I haven't lived. It isn't life—without you. Well, dearest, it needn't be much longer. We closed the deal this afternoon. I came down here to see the place, and—incidentally—to see you!"
More silence.
"I shall turn over the store at once. It won't take long to move and settle; there's enough money over to do that. And the ranch pays, Diantha! It really pays, and will carry us all. How long will it take you to get out of this?"
"Get out of—what?" she faltered.
"Why, the whole abominable business you're so deep in here. Thank God, there's no shadow of need for it any more!"
The girl's face went white, but he could not see it. She would not believe him.
"Why, dear," she said, "if your ranch is as near as that it would be perfectly easy for me to come in to the business—with a car. I can afford a car soon."
"But I tell you there's no need any more," said he. "Don't you understand? This is a paying fruit ranch, with land rented to advantage, and a competent manager right there running it. It's simply changed owners. I'm the owner now! There's two or three thousand a year to be made on it—has been made on it! There is a home for my people—a home for us! Oh, my beloved girl! My darling! My own sweetheart! Surely you won't refuse me now!"
Diantha's head swam dizzily.
"Ross," she urged, "you don't understand! I've built up a good business here—a real successful business. Mother is in it; father's to come down; there is a big patronage; it grows. I can't give it up!"
"Not for me? Not when I can offer you a home at last? Not when I show you that there is no longer any need of your earning money?" he said hotly.
"But, dear—dear!" she protested. "It isn't for the money; it is the work I want to do—it is my work! You are so happy now that you can do your work—at last! This is mine!"
When he spoke again his voice was low and stern.
"Do you mean that you love—your work—better than you love me?"
"No! It isn't that! That's not fair!" cried the girl. "Do you love your work better than you love me? Of course not! You love both. So do I. Can't you see? Why should I have to give up anything?"
"You do not have to," he said patiently. "I cannot compel you to marry me. But now, when at last—after these awful years—I can really offer you a home—you refuse!"
"I have not refused," she said slowly.
His voice lightened again.
"Ah, dearest! And you will not! You will marry me?"
"I will marry you, Ross!"
"And when? When, dearest?"
"As soon as you are ready."
"But—can you drop this at once?"
"I shall not drop it."
Her voice was low, very low, but clear and steady.
He rose to his feet with a muffled exclamation, and walked the length of the piazza and back.
"Do you realize that you are saying no to me, Diantha?"
"You are mistaken, dear. I have said that I will marry you whenever you choose. But it is you who are saying, 'I will not marry a woman with a business.'"
"This is foolishness!" he said sharply. "No man—that is a man—would marry a woman and let her run a business."
"You are mistaken," she answered. "One of the finest men I ever knew has asked me to marry him—and keep on with my work!"
"Why didn't you take him up?"
"Because I didn't love him." She stopped, a sob in her voice, and he caught her in his arms again.
It was late indeed when he went away, walking swiftly, with a black rebellion in his heart; and Diantha dragged herself to bed.
She was stunned, deadened, exhausted; torn with a desire to run after him and give up—give up anything to hold his love. But something, partly reason and partly pride, kept saying within her: "I have not refused him; he has refused me!"
CHAPTER XIII. ALL THIS.
They laid before her conquering feet
The spoils of many lands;
Their crowns shone red upon her head
Their scepters in her hands.
She heard two murmuring at night,
Where rose-sweet shadows rest;
And coveted the blossom red
He laid upon her breast.
When Madam Weatherstone shook the plentiful dust of Orchardina from her expensive shoes, and returned to adorn the more classic groves of Philadelphia, Mrs. Thaddler assumed to hold undisputed sway as a social leader.
The Social Leader she meant to be; and marshalled her forces to that end. She Patronized here, and Donated there; revised her visiting list with rigid exclusiveness; secured an Eminent Professor and a Noted Writer as visitors, and gave entertainments of almost Roman magnificence.
Her husband grew more and more restive under the rising tide of social exactions in dress and deportment; and spent more and more time behind his fast horses, or on the stock-ranch where he raised them. As a neighbor and fellow ranchman, he scraped acquaintance with Ross Warden, and was able to render him many small services in the process of settling.
Mrs. Warden remembered his visit to Jopalez, and it took her some time to rearrange him in her mind as a person of wealth and standing. Having so rearranged him, on sufficient evidence, she and her daughters became most friendly, and had hopes of establishing valuable acquaintance in the town. "It's not for myself I care," she would explain to Ross, every day in the week and more on Sundays, "but for the girls. In that dreadful Jopalez there was absolutely no opportunity for them; but here, with horses, there is no reason we should not have friends. You must consider your sisters, Ross! Do be more cordial to Mr. Thaddler."
But Ross could not at present be cordial to anybody. His unexpected good fortune, the freedom from hated cares, and chance to