The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1904-04-03


out-too tired to teach. Let me 80 add
pur off your pupils. I've a lot Of spare
time this afternoon
How kind of you" she said, looking
fairly surprised: 81 haven't any this
afternoon, luckily. 1 don't work every
day; that's the point I'm trying to work
up to; that's my highest ambition
She looked down at his upturnei face
and gave a slight smile.
rs it overwork that kept you awake
last night and makes you look SO pale
today" he queried in a lowered voice.
''Ch, don't know''-she turned away
her face rather impatiently I'm wor-
ried, / suppose. Everybody has to be
worried, don't they?"
II can't bear to have you worried.
There isn't one wild, crazy thing III the
world l wouldn't do to proven. It.
He was looking ND at her with his
soul in his eyes. Barron was not the
man to hide or juggle with his love. 1t
possessed him now and shone on his
face. Mariposa's eyes turned from it
as from the scrutiny of something at
once painful and holy. He laid his hand
on hers on the rail.
You know that" he said, his deep
voice shaken.
Her eyes dropped to the hands and
she mechanically noticed how white her
fingers locked between his large, brown
ones. She drew them softly away, feel
ing his glance keen, impassioned and
unwavering on her face.
Something's troubling YOU" he con-
tinued in the same voice. why won't
you let me help you? You needn't tell
me what 1t is. but you might let me
help you. What am 1 here for but to
take care Of you, and fight for you. and
protect you?"
The words were indescribably sweet
to the lonely girl. All-the previous
night she had tossed on her pillow
haunted by terror of Essex and what
he intended to do. She had felt herself
completely helpless, and her uncer-
tainty at what step he meant to take
was torturing. For one moment of
weakness she thought of pouring it all
out to the man beside her, whose strong
hand on her own had seemed symbolic
of the grip, firm and fearless, he could
take on the situation that was threat
ening her. Then she realized the i'm
possibility of such a thing and drew
back from the railing.
You can't help me-" she said; mo
one can"
He mounted a step and stretched his
hand over the railing to try to detain
her.
But I can do one thing; can al
ways be here, here close to you, ready
to come when you call me, either in
trouble or for advice. If ever you want
help, help of any kind, I'll be here.
And if you had need of me 1 think I'd
know it, and no matter where 1 was,
I'd come. Remember that"
She had half turned away toward her
door as he spoke, and now stood in pro-
file. a tall figure, with her throat and
wrists looking white as milk against
the hard black line of her dress. She
seemed a picture painted in few colors.
her hair coppery bronze, and her lips
a clear, pale red, being the brightest
tones in the composition.
viii you remember" he said.
Yes" she murmured.
"And when you want help come to
me, or call for me, and il 1 were at the
ends of the world I'd hear you and
come"
She turned completely away without
answering, and, opening her door, van
ished into her room.
For the next three or four days she
looked much the same.
Barron's anxiety about her, though
not again openly expressed, continued.
He was certain that some blow to her
peace of mind had been delivered by
the man he had seen in the hall. He
Il
an intrusion into her confidence. but
he remembered the few words she had
dropped that evening. The mans
name was Essex, and he was a friend
of Mrs Willers'. Barron had known
Mrs. Willers for years. He had been a
guest in the house during the period of
her tenancy. and thopgh he did not see
her frequently, had retained an agree
able memory Of her and her daughter.
1t was therefore with great relief
that. few days after his meeting with
Essex, he encountered her in the heart
Of a gray afternoon crossing Union
square Plaza.
Mrs. Willers was Fastening down to
The Trumpet office after a mornings
work in her own rooms.
She greeted Barron with a friendly
udll, anu lu6y pduSeQ lOI q moment .
chat in the middle Of the plaza
You're looking fresh as a summer
morning. said the mining man, whose
life, spent searching for the mineral
secrets OF the Sierra, had not made him
conversant with those Of compilations
like Mrs. Willers'.
"Oh, get out!" said she, greatly
pleased; I'm too old for that sort of
taffy. It's almost Edna's turn now"
I'll be afraid to see Edna soon.
She's going to be such a beauty that
the only safety's in fight"
The mother was even more pleased
at this.
You're right" she said. nodding at
him with a grave eye; "Edna's q
beauty. Where she gets it from is
what stumps me. My glass tells me
it's not from her mommer. and my
memory tells me It's not from her pop
per-"
There's a man on your paper called
Essex" said Barron, who was not one
to beat about the bush; what sort of a
fellow is he, Mrs. Willers?"