The other nodded.
"You see, I've not changed much--except for my hair."
"What did she do--say?"
The Padre's smile remained.
"Said--I should see her again."
For some moments the two men faced each other across the room. The yellow lamplight plainly revealed their different expressions. The Padre's smile was inimitable in its sphinx-like obscurity, but Buck's eyes were frankly troubled.
"And that means?" Buck's question rang sharply.
"She has neither forgotten nor--forgiven."
Buck returned abruptly to his contemplation of the night, but his thoughts were no longer the happy thoughts of the lover. Without knowing it he was proving to himself that there were other things in the world which could entirely obscure the happy light which the presence of Joan shed upon his life.
The Padre sat back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head, while his pipe burned hot and the smoke of it rose thickly. It was the only outward sign he gave of any emotion. Buck suddenly forgot the night. A desperate thought was running hotly through his brain. His friend's admission had set his fertile young brain working furiously. It was traveling just whither a vivid imagination carried it. A reckless purpose was swiftly formulating.
After a while he turned again. His resolve was taken on the impulse of the moment.
"Padre," he said, "you shall never----" But his sentence remained incomplete. He broke off, listening.
The other was listening too.
There was the sharp cracking of a forest tree--one of those mysterious creakings which haunt the woodland night. But there was another sound too. The trained ears of these men caught its meaning on the instant. It was the vague and distant sound of wheels upon the soft bed of the sandy trail.
"A heavy wagon, an'--two hosses," said Buck.
The Padre nodded.
"Coming from the direction of the farm. Sounds like the old team,--and they're being driven too fast for heavy horses. Joan hasn't got a saddle-horse of her own."
His last remark explained his conviction, and the suggestion found concurrence in Buck's mind.
They waited, and the sound grew louder. Then, without a word, Buck passed out of the room.
A few minutes later the rumble of wheels ceased, and the Padre heard Buck's voice greeting Joan.
* * * * * A tragic light shone in Joan's eyes as she stood in the centre of the room glancing from her lover to his friend. She was searching for an opening for what she had come to say. Her distraught brain was overwhelmed with thoughts she could not put into words. She had driven over with the heavy team and wagon because she had no other means of reaching these two, and unless she reached them to-night she felt that by morning her sanity must be gone. Now--now--she stood speechless before them. Now, her brain refused to prompt her tongue. All was chaos in her mind, and her eyes alone warned the men of the object of her coming.