The Claim Jumpers

"And now, dear, we must talk plainly and calmly. You have seen what my

family is."

"I don't know, Mary, that I can make you understand at all," began

Bennington helplessly. "I can't express it even to myself. Our people

are so different. My training has been so different. All this sort of

thing means so much to us, and so little to you."

"I know exactly," she interrupted. "I have read, and I have lived East.

I can appreciate just how it is. See if I can not read your thoughts.

My family is uneducated. If it becomes your family, your own parents

will be more than grieved, and your friends will have little to do with

you. You have also duties toward your family, as a family. Is that

it?"

"Yes, that is it," answered he, "but there are so many things it does

not say. It seems to me it has come to be a horrible dilemma with me.

If I do what I am afraid is my duty to my family and my people, I will

be unhappy without you forever. And if I follow my heart, then it seems

to me I will wrong myself, and will be unhappy that way. It seems a

choice of just in what manner I will be miserable!" he ended with a

ghastly laugh.

"And which is the most worth while?" she asked in a still voice.

"I don't know, I don't know!" he cried miserably. "I must think."

He looked out straight ahead of him for some time. "Whichever way I

decide," he said after a little, "I want you to know this, Mary: I love

you, and I always will love you, and the fact that I choose my duty, if

I do, is only that if I did not, I would not consider myself worthy

even to look at you." A silence fell on them again.

"I can not live West," said he again, as though he had been arguing

this point in his mind and had just reached the conclusion of it. "My

life is East; I never knew it until now." He hesitated. "Would

you--that is, could you--I mean, would your family have to live East

too?"

She caught his meaning and drew herself up, with a little pride in the

movement.

"Wherever I go, whatever I do, my people must be free to go or do. You

have your duty to your family. I have my duty to mine!"

He bowed his head quietly in assent. She looked at the struggle

depicted in the lines of his face with eyes in which, strangely enough,

was much pity, but no unhappiness or doubt. Could it be that she was so

sure of the result?

At last he raised his head slowly and turned to her with an air of

decision.