The Pleasantville press. (Pleasantville, N.J.) 1912-1929, 1923-08-08

II want to talk to you" said Stew
art.
Madeline started. turned to him,
and now she saw the earlier Stewart.
the man who reminded her of their
first meeting at FL Cajon. of that
memorable meeting at Chiricahua.
Il want to ask you something" he
went on. I've been wanting to know
something. That's why I've hung on
here. But now I'm going over-oyer
the border. And I want to know.
Why did you refuse 70 listen to me?"
At his last words that hot shame.
tenfOld more sitting than when il had
before Inundated Madeline, rushed
over her, sending the scarlet in a wave
to her temples. Biting her lips to
hold back speech, she jerked on Maj
esty's bride. struck him With her
whip, spurred him. Stewards iron arm
held the horse. Then Madeline. in a
flash Of passion. struck at Stewards
face, missed it, struck again. and hit.
With n pull, almost drawing her
from the saddle, he tore the whip from
her hands. II was not that action on
his part, or the sudden strong master
fulneSs of his look, so much as the
uyid mark on his face where the whip
had dashed that quieted, If 1t did not
check, her fury.
That's nothing" he said, with some
thing of his old ~audacity. That's
nothing TO how you've hurt me-
Madeline battled with herself for
control. This man would not be de-
MED. About him now there was only
the ghost of that finer, gentler man
she had helped to bring into being.
The piercing dark eyes he bent upon
her burned her. went through her as
If he were looking into her soul. Then
Madeline's quick sight caught a fleet
ing doubt, a usefulness, a surprised
and saddened certainty in his eyes,
saw it shade and pass away. Her
Womans Intuition, as keen as her
sight, told her Stewart in that moment
had sustained a shock of bitter, final
truth.
For the third time he repeated his
question to her. Madeline did not an
swer; she could not speak.
you don't know l love you, do
you?" he continued. ~passionately.
"That ever since you stood before me
in that hole at C%hiricahua I've loved
you? You can't see I've been another
man, loving you, working for you, liv-
ing for you? You won't believe I've
turned my back on the old wild life,
that I've been decent and honorable
and happy and useful-your kind Of
a cowboy? You couldn't tell, though
to know it, that | never dared to
think Of you except as my angel, my
holy Virgin? What do you know of
a mans heart and soul? How could
you tell of the love, the salvation of
a man who's lived his life in the ST.
lence and loneliness? Who could teach
you the actual truth-that a wild cow
boy, faithless to mother and sister, ex-
cept in memory. riding a hard, drunk
enc trail straight to hell, had looked
into the face. the eyes of a beautiful
woman infinitely beyond him, above
him, and had so loved her that he was
saved-that he became faithful again
that he saw her face in every flow
er and her eyes in the blue heayen?"
Madeline was mute. She heard her
heart laundering in her ears.
Stewart leaped at her. His power
full hand closed on her arm. She
trembled. His action presaged the
old instructive violence.
NO; but you think I kept Bonita
up in the mountains. that I went Sc
cretly to meet her, that all the while
I served you I was Oh, know
what you Think l know now. I
never knew till I made you look at
me. Now, say It! Speakt'
White-hot, blinded, utterly in the
fiery grasp of passion, poWerless to
stem the rush of a word both shame
full and revealing and fatal, Madeline
cried
Yes"
He had wrenched that word from
her, but he was not subtle enough, not
versed in the mystery of woman's
motive enough, to divine the deep
significance of her reply.
Fer him the word had only literal
meaning confirming the dishonor in
which she held him. Dropping her
arm, he shrank back, a strange action
for the savage and crude nan she
judged him TO be.
But that day at Chlricahua you
spoke of faith" he burst out. You
said the greatest thing in the world
was faith in human nature. You said
YOU had faith in me! You made me
have faith in myself"
His r~eproaeh, without bitterness or
scorn. was a lash to her old egoistie
belief in her fairness. She had
preached a beautiful principle that
she had failed to live up to.
you think I nm vile he said. You
think that about Bonita And all the
time I've been l could make
YOU ashamed could tell you
HIS passionate u~tterance ceased
with a snap of his teeth. His lips set
in a thin. bitter line. The agitation
Of his face preceded a conclusive
wrestling of his shoulders.
NO. moi" he painted. Was It his
answer to some mighty temptation
Then. like a bent sapling released, he
spranc erect. But I'll be the man
the dog-you think me-"