It must have seemed madness to him, a monstrous nightmare, a
delirium of drink, that Joan Randle was there on her knees in a
brazen male attire, lifting her arms to him, beseeching him, not to
spare her life, but to believe in her innocence.
Joan burst into swift, broken utterance: "Only listen! I trailed you
out--twenty miles from Hoadley. I met Roberts. He came with me. He
lamed his horse--we had to camp. Kells rode down on us. He had two
men. They camped there. Next morning he--killed Roberts--made off
with me. ... Then he killed his men--just to have me--alone to
himself. ... We crossed a range--camped in the canon. There he
attacked me--and I--I shot him! ... But I couldn't leave him--to
die!" Joan hurried on with her narrative, gaining strength and
eloquence as she saw the weakening of Cleve. "First he said I was
his wife to fool that Gulden--and the others," she went on. "He
meant to save me from them. But they guessed or found out. ... Kells
forced me into these bandit clothes. He's depraved, somehow. And I
had to wear something. Kells hasn't harmed me--no one has. I've
influence over him. He can't resist it. He's tried to force me to
marry him. And he's tried to give up to his evil intentions. But he
can't. There's good in him. I can make him feel it. ... Oh, he loves
me, and I'm not afraid of him any more. ... It has been a terrible
time for me, Jim, but I'm still--the same girl you knew--you used
to--"
Cleve dropped the gun and he waved his hand before his eyes as if to
dispel a blindness.
"But why--why?" he asked, incredulously. "Why did you leave Hoadley?
That's forbidden. You knew the risk."
Joan gazed steadily up at him, to see the whiteness slowly fade out
of his face. She had imagined it would be an overcoming of pride to
betray her love, but she had been wrong. The moment was so full, so
overpowering, that she seemed dumb. He had ruined himself for her,
and out of that ruin had come the glory of her love. Perhaps it was
all too late, but at least he would know that for love of him she
had in turn sacrificed herself.
"Jim," she whispered, and with the first word of that betrayal a
thrill, a tremble, a rush went over her, and all her blood seemed
hot at her neck and face, "that night when you kissed me I was
furious. But the moment you had gone I repented. I must have--cared
for you then, but I didn't know. ... Remorse seized me. And I set
out on your trail to save you from yourself. And with the pain and
fear and terror there was sometimes--the--the sweetness of your
kisses. Then I knew I cared. ... And with the added days of suspense
and agony--all that told me of your throwing your life away--there
came love. ... Such love as otherwise I'd never have been big enough
for! I meant to find you--to save you--to send you home! ... I have
found you, maybe too late to save your life, but not your soul,
thank God! ... That's why I've been strong enough to hold back Kells.
I love you, Jim! ... I love you! I couldn't tell you enough. My heart
is bursting. ... Say you believe me! Say you know I'm good--true to
you--your Joan! ... And kiss me--like you did that night when we were
such blind fools. A boy and a girl who didn't know--and couldn't
tell!--Oh, the sadness of it! . ... Kiss me, Jim, before I--drop--at
your feet! ... If only you--believe--"