Chapter XV

When Jean reached the Harrington home she found a group of girls on the piazza, waiting for her, who chattered and laughed and took absolute possession of her. They were planning an all-day trip on horseback with lunches and all sorts of interesting things by the way, and Jean must help them. Then they gave her no chance to speak, but told her all in chorus, until she could scarcely make out what it was about. She smiled and agreed, but half the time she did not know what they were saying, for something still and beautiful within her soul was claiming her attention, something that seemed too high and holy to be affected by any of these foolish little things wherewith the others wanted to while away the time--the brief, dear time left her to be in _his_ neighborhood! Yet she smiled and agreed, and they all thought her charming, and went on making their plans.

They made out their list of men who were to be invited. She heard the names read, and took no account of whom they had selected for her escort. What did it matter? _His_ name was not among them! She heard their talk about their horses.

"Robin Hood has gone lame," declared one maiden pettishly, "isn't that a shame? Father says it's my fault, but I know better. He's going to get me a new horse pretty soon when he can find one to suit him. I know just the one I want, coal-black and shines like satin. He can go like the wind and take a river as if he had wings. I'm dead in love with him. I'm just dying to ride him, but his owner won't sell him. Isn't that mean? He belongs to Jasper Holt. Father has offered him a fabulous price, but he won't sell him at any price, he says. I think he's perfectly horrid. Of course he only does it just to be disagreeable because he thinks I want him. That man makes me tired!"

There was a soft color on Jean's cheeks and she looked up as if a challenge to defend her friend had been flung to her.

"Perhaps he's fond of the horse," she said gently, as she glanced around on all those scornful young faces.

"He, fond of anything! Oh my dear! You don't know him!" declared one of the girls.

"He never was fond of anything in his life," laughed another. "Why, he's the cruellest thing! You don't know, Jean."

"Men grow very fond of horses," said Jean, holding her head high and the roses in her cheeks deepening, "and their horses grow fond of them. A horse loves one who is kind to him."

She was remembering the proud arch of Jasper Holt's black as he rode beside her in the woods but a short half hour before.

Her words were met by a shout of merriment, and a boisterous young voice with a sneer in it pierced above the laughter:

"Kind to them! Jasper Holt was never kind to anything in his life! My dear, you simply don't know him!"

"But I _do_ know him!" said Jean now, rising from her rocker and standing slim and straight against the vine-covered pillar of the porch. "I know him better than you all, and I know he is kind. He was kind and splendid to me! No man could have done more! I am sorry you feel that way about him. It isn't right! He is my friend!"

She had spoken! She had always meant to, ever since she came; but there had been little opportunity without being deliberately disagreeable and dragging the subject in. Perhaps Eleanor had warned her callers not to mention Jasper Holt, for they usually seemed to avoid speaking of him; but she had always felt the time would come when she could speak and let them all know what she thought about him, and now it had come and she had spoken. Her heart beat wildly, her cheeks were rosy red, and her eyes shining starrily, but she stood unabashed and faced them all.

A sudden silence fell upon the little group and they exchanged furtive glances of understanding as if a mutual agreement sealed their lips to things that they might say if she were not with them.

"Oh, well, of course you're grateful," said one girl in a conciliatory tone. "One couldn't help being grateful under such circumstances; but he would have been a brute not to have pulled you out of the water and showed you the way to Hawk Valley."

"Perhaps he wants his black to ride in the tournament," said another girl mischievously, hoping to lift the cloud that had fallen over them all. "He has audacity enough for anything, though he has never seemed to care for anything going on in the town. Of course he has never been encouraged to have."

"He wouldn't dare!" said another with flashing eyes.

"Why wouldn't he dare?" asked Jean, turning steady eyes to the haughty young speaker.

"Because it wouldn't be tolerated," declared the girl still haughtily.

"I have seen him dare greater things than that," said Jean with a far-away look in her eyes and something like a smile on her lips.

The girls looked at her a minute in silence and wonder, interchanged quick glances that said: "She does not know," and changed the subject. They liked Jean too well, and she was too popular among the men for them to risk angering her, so they chattered on about what they would have in the lunch boxes, and who should bring what; but Jean, with that far-away look in her eyes and that half smile on her lips, as if she knew things that were hidden from others, said no more.

They chattered and giggled and chorused to the end of their subject and their time at last, and took themselves away; but it was the dinner hour and Harrington was coming up the walk with two men who were to be their guests for dinner. There was just time for Jean to change her riding habit for a dinner dress and hurry down again, no chance for the rest and the quiet thoughts that cried out to have their way.

The evening was filled with callers, as every evening had been since she came that was not actually taken up by some entertainment or invitation. It seemed a wearisome time to Jean, who longed for her quiet room and her own thoughts. She watched the men who were talking to her, trying to please her; saw that they were good to look upon, cultured, and refined: saw that any one of them would be a good friend to her if she would let him; and yet, when she considered it, there was not one who came up to the standard of the man who had saved her life. She tried to look at the matter from their standpoint and understand why it was that she could not like any of them as she liked him; why they all seemed rather tedious in their intercourse and tiresome in their coming; and the great thought came down upon her that it was because she had first known him, and he was so much larger and finer a man in every way than they.

She had no more thought than at the beginning that she would ever see more of Holt. The future showed no bright hope that they might come together. He had said it would not do, and she trusted him. Whatever he willed concerning their friendship she bowed to, for she trusted him utterly; but there was something vivid and both strong and gentle in him that made all others vapid beside him.

She roused herself to be pleasant and entertaining, but her heart was not in it. Her sister, noticing as the evening went on that she looked white and tired, finally managed to send their guests away. And indeed, there had been moments when all the gaiety and laughter seemed far away to her, and she had only seen the evil face of Scathlin and heard his voice demanding the paper and threatening to find it for himself. Once she had shuddered and shivered visibly as if she were chilly, and the Captain hastened to pick up a gauze scarf and throw it around her shoulders, while Freeman Thorne pulled down the window.

But when they were all gone Eleanor was not at peace about her sister and in pretty negligee she came in presently to perch upon the bed and question her.

"Is anything troubling you, Jean?" she asked anxiously. "You seemed so white and tired to-night?"

"Nothing at all, dearest," said Jean brightly. "What a big responsibility I am to you, you precious big sister! You mustn't worry about me, I have had a lovely visit. But I get a little tired of talking to so many people sometimes, and having to say the same things over to all those men."

"You queer child!" said her sister, looking at her curiously. "Almost any girl would be proud, to have so many admirers and you take them as a matter of course and don't seem to care a bit for any of them."

She studied the fair face of the girl keenly for any trace of self-consciousness, but Jean's smile was as placid as ever.

"They are all nice, Eleanor," said the girl wearily, "but they do grow a little tiresome; all day long some of them, and every day. I wouldn't mind if you and I had a day or two now and then just all to ourselves."

"Well, you certainly are hopeless!" said her sister. "Tell me, child, is there someone at home to whom you have given your heart?"

"Oh, no!" said Jean quickly, laughing at the thought. "Who would there be? You know all the boys, and there isn't one I could care for."

"Well, I didn't know but that new bank cashier--"

"Tom Lloyd? Why he's engaged to Bella Harkness. Did no one tell you? Besides, he's years older than I am."

"Well, there's that oldest Shafton boy. Mother wrote he had come home from college and started in business. They are a good family, Jean."

"Jimmy Shafton? Oh, Eleanor! You ought to see him! He's the biggest snob! But there! I suppose he's nice enough, but I don't like him, that's all. He has a weak chin, and somehow I don't trust him. Now, Eleanor, you funny little match-maker, just give me up as a hopeless case. You can't marry me off yet awhile and you'll have to make up your mind to it. I'm going home where I belong to take care of my mother and teach my Sunday School class; but I've had a glorious time while I was here and I shall enjoy thinking it over a lot when I get home."

Eleanor was baffled, but persistent.

"Don't you like the Captain?" she asked.

"Yes, a lot. He's going to take me a ride through the canyon to-morrow. Will you go along? He promised to ask you."

"Well, probably he didn't want me," said Eleanor significantly.

"Well, _I_ do," said Jean decidedly. "I told him I wouldn't go without you."

"Why, yes, I suppose I could take Betty on her pony."

"Do," said Jean, "I love to ride with Betty, and then you can talk to the Captain when I get tired."

"You funny little girl! Well, don't you like Freeman Thorne?"

"Of course," said Jean. "He's going to bring me some Indian arrow-heads to give to my boys at home."

Eleanor sat back and surveyed her inscrutable little sister hopelessly. There was one more question she wanted to ask, but somehow she didn't dare, because she hated to see that look of hurt dignity come into Jean's eyes whenever she spoke of Jasper Holt; but there lingered in her heart just a little uneasiness about the handsome outlaw whose part the girl had so loyally taken on her arrival, and about whom her lips had remained so significantly sealed ever since. Yet, despite her uneasiness, she went to her room with the question unasked, and Jean locked her door and turned out her light with a sigh of relief that at last she was alone.

Down on her knees beside the open window she knelt, her arms on the window seat, her face raised to the eternal stars. There was a kind of triumph in her face, for though she knew that great sadness was coming rapidly on its way, yet over all the excitement of the day, the terror of peril and escape, there was a great exultation. For just this one night at least she must exult in the thought of her lover and his second saving of her life; she must rejoice in his love and the fact that she could trust him. Memory brought back now in a flood of joy every glance of his true eyes, every word and gesture, every movement and attitude of the perfect body. He seemed so much stronger and finer and nobler in every way than all those others. What a pity that he must rest under their disapproval. How dreadful that they could not know him as he really was--that she must presently go on her lonely way home, and see no more of him, know no more of him--perhaps never on this earth again. He had it in him to be true to this terrible separation because he thought it ought to be, and she was proud of him for it, but her heart already ached in anticipation of the sorrow that was in store for her.

With a sob she put her head down on the window sill and prayed softly:

"Dear God, take care of him, and help people to know him. Help him to be true always and let others find it out and be ashamed of the way they have treated him. Bless him, and keep him--my dear friend!"

Then with one lingering look away to where the stars shone quietly above his dwelling as above hers, she went to her sleep.