Her eyes blinded by a strange mist of tears, Beth Norvell clung to the
latch of the closed door, fearful lest the man within might decide to
follow, endeavoring to gaze about, while gaining control over her
sorely shattered nerves. Strong as she had appeared when nerved by
indignation and despair, that stormy interview with Farnham--his
scarcely veiled threats, his heartless scoffing--had left her a wreck,
for the moment scarcely mistress of her own mind. One thing alone
stood forth as a rallying point for all her benumbed energies--she must
save Winston from a real danger, the nature of which she did not in the
least doubt. The gambler's boast was no idle one; she, who had before
tasted of his depravity, felt fully convinced of his intention now.
Yet what could she hope to do? How best might she accomplish that
imperative duty of rescue?
There occurred to her only one feasible plan--a complete surrender of
her womanly pride, an immediate acceptance of the young man's proffered
aid to Denver, with an insistence that he also accompany her. Woman
enough to realize her power, she could not but have faith in the
results. The color crept back in her cheeks at this daring conception,
for, after those hastily uttered words of the previous night, what
construction would he be likely to put on this sudden yielding? An
instant she hesitated, afraid, shrinking back before the sacrifice as
from fire. Then her fine eyes darkened, the clinging tears vanishing
while her fingers clinched in passionate resolve. Do it? Why, of
course she must do it! What was her pitiful pride in the balance
against his life? He might never dream what so great a sacrifice cost
her; might even despise her for such an exhibition of weakness; but she
would know, and be the stronger in her own soul from the brave
performance of duty. Besides, she intended to tell him the whole
miserable story of her wrecked life--not now, not even to-night, but
some time, on their way back into the world,--as they were nearing
Denver, perhaps, and at the moment of final parting. It almost seemed
easy as she faced the stern necessity, so easy that her parted lips
smiled sarcastically when she heard Farnham rise and leave the darkened
box through the opposite entrance. Perhaps, when he comprehended it
all, this other, who had spoken love words to her, would understand
where the real blame lay, and so prove manly enough to absolve her from
any conception of evil. This hope was sweet, strengthening, yet it
faded immediately away. Ah, no; such result was not natural, as she
understood the world--it was always the woman who bore the burden of
condemnation. Far safer to expect nothing, but do the right simply
because it was right. She no longer questioned what that would be. It
stood there before her like a blazing cross of flame; she must hold
those two men apart, even though they both trampled her heart beneath
their feet. This was her destiny, the payment she must return the
world for having once made a mistake. One out of the multitude, she
felt strong enough in the crisis to choose deliberately the straight
and narrow path leading through Gethsemane.