The Branding Iron

She thought! then slowly drew herself away and stood, her head bent,

her brows drawn sharply together. "Yes. I suppose so. I think I can do

it. That is the best plan." She looked at him wildly again. "Then it

will be over for always, won't it? He'll go away?"

"Yes, my poor child. He will go away. He told me so. Then, will you

try to forget him, to live your life for its own beautiful sake? I'd

like to see you happy, Jane."

"Would you?" She smiled like a pitying mother. "Why, I've given up

even dreaming of that. That isn't what keeps me going."

"What is it, then, Jane?"

"Oh, a queer notion." She laughed sadly. "A kind of kid's notion, I

guess, that if you live along, some way, some time, you'll be able to

make up for things you've done, and that perhaps there'll be another

meeting-place--a kind of a round-up--where you'll be fit to forgive

those you love and to be forgiven by them."

Jasper walked about. He was touched and troubled. Some minutes later

he said doubtfully, "Then you'll carry through your purpose of not

letting Pierre know you?"

"Yes. I've made up my mind to that. That's what I've got to do. He

mustn't find me. We can't meet here in this life. That's certain.

There are things that come between, things like bars." She made a

strange gesture as of a prisoner running his fingers across the barred

window of a cell. "Thank you for warning me. Thank you for telling me

what to do." She smiled faintly. "I think he will know me, anyway,"

she said, "but I won't know him. Never! Never!"

That night the theater was late in emptying itself. Jane West had acted

with especial brilliance and she was called out again and again. When

she came to her dressing-room she was flushed and breathless. She did

not change her costume, but drew her fur coat on over the green evening

dress she had worn in the last scene. Then she stood before her mirror,

looking herself over carefully, critically. Now that the paint was

washed off, and the flush of excitement faded, she looked haggard and

white. Her face was very thin, its beautiful bones--long sweep of jaw,

wide brow, straight, short nose--sharply accentuated. The round throat

rising against the fur collar looked unnaturally white and long. She

sat down before her dressing-table and deliberately painted her cheeks

and lips. She even altered the outlines of her mouth, giving it a

pursed and doll-like expression, so that her eyes appeared enormous and

her nose a little pinched. Then she drew a lock of waved hair down

across the middle of her forehead, pressed another at each side close

to the corners of her eyes. This took from the unusual breadth of brow

and gave her a much more ordinary look. A coat of powder, heavily

applied, more nearly produced the effect of a pink-and-white,

glassy-eyed doll-baby for which she was trying. Afterwards she turned

and smiled doubtfully at the astonished dresser.