# A Princess of the Balkans/Chapter 10

pp. 46-49.

### CHAPTER X.

So the days went by, but the girl would not hear of their leaving the cabin until all the soreness should have gone from Dallas' wounds. No human being came near to disturb the peace of their little haven of refuge. Their life became a quiet routine of home-like duties: mornings Thalia milked the goats and ground maize, of which there was a plentiful store, and cooked their simple meals, scarcely permitting Dallas to lift a hand in physical work of any kind. Late in the afternoons, the two sat upon the threshold and watched the early autumn sunsets, discussing many things, and watching the coming of darkness.
One evening, as they sat at the cabin door, a splendid red-deer buck stalked out of the forest and stood for a moment stamping and snorting and watching the two with bright, curious eyes. The night following, there was a great bleating and scurrying among the goats. Thalia threw open the shutters and flung out a blazing firebrand, when the tumult ceased. In the morning, they found the tracks of a wolf in the damp sand about the cabin.
And so a week passed. Then Dallas announced that he was fit for the trail. His wounds had healed, as a surgeon would say, by "first intention." The encysted buckshot caused him no inconvenience, and there seemed no reason why they should linger on.
The two took counsel sitting on the floor in front of the blazing fire. For some reason, both were sad at the thought of leaving the little home which they had come to regard as their own. Nothing had occurred to mar their perfect comradeship, although twice, when discussing the possible fate of their friends, Thalia had burst suddenly into a storm of self-reproach, asserting herself to be the cause of whatever tragedy might have happened and finishing in a paroxysm of tears. The second time, Dallas had thrown his arm about her shoulders and talked to her as soothingly as though she had been an overwrought child, a method which proved singularly effective. The frenzy of her grief abated, he had drawn a little apart and reasoned with her quietly until she had recovered her self-control.
From time to time the young man had talked to her of Sir James, describing his many admirable qualities and dwelling at some length upon the Englishman's oft-asserted devotion to herself and the many excellent results which might accrue to both if they were to marry. To all of this Thalia had listened with downcast eyes, an occasional sidelong glance, and a rather pale and inscrutable face.
"We can make Dakabar easily in two days, Thalia," said Dallas, as the two sat staring into the flames. "That scoundrel, Dimitri, told me that the trail crossed the river at a ford a little above here."
Thalia nodded. "You are right," she answered listlessly. "We will go to-morrow. I will put some bread and boiled potatoes and chestnuts in a sack, and we will start. I suppose that the wolf will get the goats, and poor Mimi will have to catch mice, but you are right; we must not stay here any longer."
The odd note in her voice caused Dallas to look at her sharply. Thalia's face was quite pale, and her eyes were dark and misty.
"You speak as if you did not want to go," said he.
"Really?" She gave him a masked look. "Why should I want to stop here any longer?"
"I can't imagine. I should think that you could hardly wait to learn what has happened to Paula and James."
Thalia looked at him with glowing eyes and a bright red spot in either cheek.
"Of course I want to know what has happened to Paula and James," she retorted. "Have I not been nearly mad from anxiety? But I have tried to be patient, and not to show it, and have cooked and gathered wood and milked and slept on planks because I did not think that you ought to travel until your wounds were healed."
"Thalia!"
"And now you look at me with surprise and say 'We have wasted time enough.'"
"But I haven't said anything of the kind!"
"You have implied it!" Her voice rose slightly in pitch. "I'm sure I don't know what would have happened to you if we had started sooner."
"But, my dear little girl, don't you suppose that I appreciate——"
"No!" cried Thalia furiously. "I don't think that you have sense enough to appreciate anything! Unless it is—James!"
"Thalia!"
"Or Paula!"
"Thalia! Stop it!" Dallas stared at her in bewilderment. Thalia looked back defiantly. Her chin was thrust out, and her eyes, somber and half veiled by their long lashes, were staring into the fire over the curve of her flushed cheeks. Her black hair, with its lurid tones of sienna, was tumbled about her ears, and her breath was coming quickly.
Dallas reached for her hand, but the girl snatched it angrily away.
"You're overwrought, my dear, and I must say I don't blame you," said Dallas. "The strain has been enough to make any woman——"
"Oh, so you think I am complaining?"
"Not a bit of it; but I do think that you are feeling the strain of it all."
"I am not feeling the strain of anything, unless it is that of being continually criticized and misunderstood."
"But, Thalia, I understand."
"Really?" Thalia's red lip curled.
"Well!" cried Dallas, in desperation. "Then what is the matter?"
"There is nothing the matter."
"Then why are you so angry?"
"I am not angry. What is there to be angry about?"
"But why do you blame me for wanting to go on?"
"I am not blaming you. It is you who are blaming me, and hinting that I am not as anxious as I ought to be about Paula and—James!" She struck her sandaled foot repeatedly against the floor, then leaned over to tighten the thongs about her round ankle. "I know why you are so restless and anxious to be on." She threw him a sidelong glance. "It is because your tobacco is all gone."
"No," answered Dallas softly; "it's because my—something else is almost gone."
Thalia half turned her head and looked at him under lowered lashes.
"What do you mean?" she asked, rather breathlessly.
"I mean," answered Dallas slowly, and without looking at her, "that you are the dearest and sweetest and loveliest woman I have ever known; and that sometimes I find it very hard to remember that my dearest friend has told me that he cares for you."
Thalia looked at him fixedly, her amber eyes almost black, and the glare of the fire reflected crimsonly on her lovely face.
"But I don't care for him," she answered, in a very low voice.
"You ought to."
"Oh, but I do in one way. He is splendid and chivalrous and straightforward, and of course I appreciate all that he has done for me. But"—her voice fell—"I don't love him,"
Dallas looked into her face; his eyes were glowing like embers.
"But you did. At least you cared a good deal—before we went up the side of that mountain."
"And what if I did? I had never told him so, nor had he ever said that he cared for me."
"That's because he's too fine and generous, and you were, in a way, under his care."
"And how about yourself? Did James tell me to let go when I was holding him half balanced on the side of a cliff? Did he tell me to let go for fear I'd be dragged over and killed, too?"
"He would have done so quickly enough if he had been the one," muttered Dallas.
"I don't doubt it!" Thalia gasped, and the words came pouring out pell-mell. "And did James fight for me? And was he wounded for me? And did I swim out and save him when he was struggling in the current? And did I nurse him and feed him and——"
"Thalia, Thalia!" Dallas groaned. "Stop it! Oh, my dear, don't you see how hard you are making it for me?"
She turned her lurid eyes to his.
"And don't you suppose that you are making it hard for me, and have been right along, with your everlasting talk of James, James, James! Oh, Dallas, Dallas, it is you that I love! Just you, you, you! I have never loved anybody else! I shall never love any one else! Oh, my dear, my dear!" She began to sob, and her body swayed back and forth and threw dancing shadows on the cabin walls.
Dallas turned to her swiftly, his face very pale and his eyes aflame.
"Thalia! My own darling! I adore you!" His voice choked.
She turned her face to him, the tears sparkling on her cheeks. Dallas raised both arms, but before he could clasp her Thalia's own were about his neck and her face crushed to his. Her sobs broke out afresh.
"Thalia!" cried Dallas, crushing her to him. "My own darling! I love you more than anything in the world." He kissed the tears from the hot, flushed cheeks. "I shall tell James all about it, sweetheart. He is big and generous. He will understand. But, until I do, you must help me, dear, or I would despise myself for all the rest of my life."
The minutes flew by, and still he held her close, talking to her soothingly until presently her sobs ceased and she looked up at him with a smile.
"Yes, dearest," she whispered; "I understand. I will help you. And you really love me—and don't love Paula?"
"Darling! I love only you!"