Beth Norvell

Through the single unglazed window Beth Norvell saw him coming, and

clutched at the casing, trembling violently, half inclined to turn and

fly. This was the moment she had so greatly dreaded, yet the moment

she could not avoid unless she failed to do her duty to this man. In

another instant the battle had been fought and won, the die cast. She

turned hastily toward her unconscious companion, grasping her arm.

"Mr. Winston is coming, Mercedes; I--I must see him this time alone."

The Mexican's great black eyes flashed up wonderingly into the flushed

face bending over her, marking the heightened color, the visible

embarrassment. She sprang erect, her quick glance through the window

revealing the figure of the engineer striding swiftly toward them.

"Oh, si, señorita; dat iss all right. I go see Mike; he more fun as

dose vat make lofe."

There was a flutter of skirts and sudden vanishment, even as Miss

Norvell's ears caught the sound of a low rap on the outer door. She

stood breathing heavily, her hands clasped upon her breast, until the

knock had been repeated twice. Her voice utterly failing her, she

pressed the latch, stepping backward to permit his entrance. The first

swift, inquiring glance into his face frightened her into an impulsive

explanation.

"I was afraid I arrived here too late to be of any service. It seems,

however, you did not even need me."

He grasped the hand which, half unconsciously, she had extended toward

him; he was startled by its unresponsive coldness, striving vainly to

perceive the truth hidden away beneath her lowered lids.

"I fear I do not altogether understand," he returned gravely. "They

merely said that you were here with a message of warning for me. I

knew that much only a moment ago. I cannot even guess the purport of

your message, yet I thank you for a very real sacrifice for my sake."

"Oh, no; truly it was nothing," the excitement bewildering her. "It

was no more than I would have done for any friend; no one could have

done less."

"You, at least, confess friendship?"

"Have I ever denied it?" almost indignantly, and looking directly at

him for the first time. "Whatever else I may seem, I can certainly

claim loyalty to those who trust me. I wear no mask off the stage."

Even as she spoke the hasty words she seemed to realize their full

import, to read his doubt of their truth revealed within his eyes.

"Then," he said slowly, weighing each word as though life depended on

the proper choice, "there is nothing being concealed from me? Nothing

between you and this Farnham beyond what I already know?"

She stood clinging to the door, with colorless cheeks, and parted lips,

her form quivering. This was when she had intended to speak in all

bravery, to pour forth the whole miserable story, trusting to this man

for mercy. But, O God, she could not; the words choked in her throat,

the very breath seemed to strangle her.