In her heart the Irish girl did not doubt that Jack was guilty, but this would not prevent her from saving him if she could. There came to her a swift vision of two helpless girls in a cabin with drinking ruffians, of the entry of a man into the picture, of his fight against odds to save her and Joyce from insult. Beside this abstract justice became a pale and misty virtue.
"Of course you'll not tell anyone," Joyce repeated.
Moya brought her gaze back from the window. "I shall tell Mr. Kilmeny."
"But it isn't your secret. You have no right to."
"Have you forgotten that night in the cabin?" asked Moya in a low, clear voice. "If you have, I haven't."
"I don't care," Joyce answered petulantly. "He's so hard. Why can't he be nice about this? Why can't he understand--instead of sneering at me? It's a good deal harder for me than for him. Think of fifty years of Dobyans Verinder."
"Would you care to write Mr. Kilmeny a note? I'll take it to him if you like," Moya suggested gently.
Joyce considered. "No, I couldn't put it on paper. But--you might tell him."
"I don't think I could quite do that."
"If it came up right; just show him how I'm placed."
"Perhaps. Shall I tell him that you asked me to warn him?"
Joyce nodded, eyes shining. She was a young woman capable of changing her mind in the snap of a finger. Dainty and exquisite as apple blossoms, she was like a young plant with delicate tendrils forever reaching out. Love she must have and ever more of it. To admiration she was sensitive in every fiber. Whenever she thought of Jack Kilmeny's contempt tears scorched her eyes.
It was like Moya that she carried her warning immediately and directly. Kilmeny was not easy to find. He had been seen entering the office of a lawyer, but had left before she arrived. The attorney understood Jack to say that he was going to an assayer's office, and the young woman learned there that he had not been seen yet by the assayer. From here she walked toward his boarding house, thinking that she might catch him at lunch.
A quick step on the boardwalk behind her caught the girl's attention. Almost at the same moment a voice hailed her.
"Whither away, Miss Dwight?"
She turned, heart beating fast. "I was looking for you, Mr. Kilmeny."
"And you've found me. What luck--for Jack Kilmeny!" His friendly smile--the same one that had claimed comradeship on the Gunnison--beamed upon her with its hint of irony.