Beth Norvell

Mercedes, the tears yet clinging to her long, black lashes, stood

motionless, gazing at the other with fascination, her slender,

scarlet-draped figure quivering to the force of these impetuous words.

She longed, yet dreaded, to hear, her own lips refusing utterance. But

Beth Norvell gave little opportunity; her determination made, she swept

forward unhesitatingly. As though fearful of being overheard, even in

the midst of that loneliness, she leaned forward, whispering one quick,

breathless sentence of confession. The startled dancer swayed backward

at the words, clutching at her breast, the faint glimmer of light

revealing her staring eyes and pallid cheeks.

"Mother of God!" she sobbed convulsively. "No, no! not dat! He could

not lie to me like dat!"

"Lie?" in bitter scornfulness. "Lie! Why, it is his very life to

lie--to women. God pity us! This world seems filled with just such

men, and we are their natural victims. Love? Their only conception of

it is passion, and, that once satiated, not even ordinary kindness is

left with which to mock the memory. In Heaven's name, girl, in your

life have you not long since learned this? Now, I will tell you what

this monster wanted of me to-night." She paused, scarcely knowing how

best to proceed, or just how much of the plot this other might already

comprehend.

"Have you ever heard of the 'Little Yankee' mine?" she questioned.

"Si, señorita," the voice faltering slightly, the black eyes drooping.

"Eet is up in de deep canyon yonder; I know eet."

"He told me about it," Miss Norvell continued more calmly. "He is

having trouble with those people out there. There is something wrong,

and he is afraid of exposure. You remember the young man who walked

home with me last night: Well, he is a mining engineer. He has agreed

to examine into the claims of the 'Little Yankee' people, and

this--this Farnham wants him stopped. You understand? He sent for me

to use my influence and make him go away. I refused, and then

this--this creature threatened to kill Mr. Winston if he remained in

camp, and--and I know he will."

The Mexican's great black eyes widened, but not with horror. Suddenly

in the silent pause she laughed.

"Si, si; now I know all--you lofe dis man. Bueno! I see eet as eet

vas."

The telltale red blood swept to the roots of Miss Norvell's hair, but

her indignant reply came swift and vehement.

"No, stop! Never dare to speak such words. I am not like that! Can

you think of nothing except the cheap masquerade of love? Have you

never known any true, pure friendship existing between man and woman?

This mining engineer has been good to me; he has proved himself a

gentleman. It is not love which makes me so anxious now to serve him,

to warn him of imminent danger--it is gratitude, friendship, common

humanity. Is it impossible for you to comprehend such motives?"