"If you was a good guesser--" said Catherson coldly. And then he grinned
felinely at Randerson and went out. They could hear him going down the
stairs. They followed presently, Hagar shrinking and shuddering under
Randerson's arm on her shoulders, and from the porch they saw Catherson,
on his pony, riding the trail that Ruth had taken on the day she had gone
to see Chavis' shack.
Randerson got Hagar into the saddle, recognizing the pony and speaking
about it. When she told him that Ruth was at her cabin, his face lighted.
He thought about the written resignation lying in his room, and he
smiled.
"I come mighty near not havin' to use it," he said to himself.
CHAPTER XXIV
REALIZING A PASSION
Ruth stood for a long time on the porch after Hagar's departure, gripped
by emotions, that had had no duplicates in all her days. Never before had
she thought herself capable of experiencing such emotions. For the man
she loved was in danger. She knew at this minute that she loved him, that
she had loved him all along. And she was not able to go to him; she could
not even learn, until Hagar returned, whether the girl had been in time,
or whether he had succumbed to the blind frenzy of the avenger. The
impotence of her position did much to aggravate her emotions, and they
surged through her, sapping her strength. It was hideous--the dread, the
uncertainty, the terrible suspense, the dragging minutes. She walked back
and forth on the porch, her hands clenched, her face drawn and white,
praying mutely, fervently, passionately, that Hagar might be in time.
Thinking to divert her mind, she at last went into the cabin and began to
walk about, looking at various objects, trying to force herself to take
an interest in them.
She saw, back of a curtain, a number of the dresses and other garments
she had given Hagar, and she could not disperse the thought that perhaps
if she had not given the clothing to Hagar, Masten might not have been
attracted to her. She drew the curtain over them with something near a
shudder, considering herself not entirely blameless.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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