tell you very much. You’ve never heard how it was that I became—what I am. I should like to tell you.”
She was very pale, but a dull red spot was blazing in either cheek. Her bosom was heaving and her breath was coming sharply. The Englishman moved uneasily in his chair. He hated a scene, and the girl’s agitation distressed him.
“No! I wouldn’t talk about it, Myra,” he said. “I know that it wasn’t your fault, of course.”
She shook her head. “I must tell you a little—not all. I shan’t make a long story of it. My father was a timber man on the Mellin River, about a hundred miles from San Francisco. I lived with him, and I hated it. I had no mother, no sisters or brothers. One day he died, and I was alone in the world. I went to try and find an aunt in San Francisco. I was about sixteen then. She was very poor, and very cruel to me; but I shared her roof, and I worked as a waitress at a restaurant. There was a young man who came there, who offered to marry me. I was utterly miserable, and I agreed at once. I cared nothing for him, and told him so. He did not mind; he wanted me, anyhow. So I married him. In three days I left him. He told me that he had another wife alive, that our marriage was only a sham; and when I declared that I should leave him, that very instant, he tried to beat me.
“I went to my aunt. She turned me away with an oath. Then I took another situation. In a week or two he found me out. He begged me to go back. I refused. He left me money. I threw it at him. He did not break into oaths, as I had expected, but he went away quietly. He sent me money through the post. I would not use it. He came back again, and threw himself at my feet, imploring me to go back and live with him. Again I refused. Soon after, I lost my situation—through him, I discovered afterwards. I was starving. Then he came to me again. He was quiet, and even gentle with me. He begged and begged, until at last in despair, I consented to go back to him. He treated me well for awhile. Then I discovered why.
“He had a friend, or rather a master, who had been pleased to admire me. What the hideous compact was, I do not know, but his only object in getting me back was to hand me over to this man—for a price. I was to be sold like an animal. The man who had deceived me was to pass me on to his master. It was a bargain between them. After weeks of persecution, I came to know of it. I do not try to tell you of the hideousness of those days; I dare not let myself think of them. Only if an eternal hell opened before my feet side by side with a renewal of them, I should choose hell! I—oh, God! I cannot bear to think of them!”
She wrung her hands, and a curious strained look came into her features. Her eyes were full of horror. She swayed and would have fallen, but the Englishman leaned over and passed his strong arm around her.
“Poor little woman!” he said tenderly.
His tone acted upon her like magic. She fell on her knees, and hid her face upon his chest, sobbing as though her heart would break. Wisely he let her be, and as soon as the storm was over, he lifted her easily on to his knee.
“Look here,” he whispered. “What’s the good of raking all this up? I don’t want to know anything about it. I’d rather not.”
She shook her head. “You don’t understand!” she said. “I must tell you. I shan’t mind so much now. Bryan, those men were like fiends to me. I had made up my mind to die before I gave in. It wasn’t that I minded—the actual wickedness so much, but I hated that other man—oh, how I hated him! They treated me sometimes like gaolers, sometimes they brought me diamonds, and sometimes they tried to starve me. One night the other man came in alone. I—I can’t go on. I was desperate, and I stabbed him. He wasn’t much hurt, but he was frightened, and I got away. I was utterly mad. I had not a friend in the world, and no money. I gave up all hope of leading a good life. I came down to Josi’s Cafi, and I saw you. You were kinder to me than any one ever had been in my life, and your face was honest. You know the rest of that. We were together for the happiest two months I had ever had. Then you left me, and I thought my heart would break. I was afraid to be alone. That other man was pitiless, and he was strong. I was horribly afraid of him. He was rich enough to have a whole army of ruffians to back him up, and I shivered when I thought of what he might do. Then that letter came for you, and the same day I saw him in his carriage, and a strange man followed me home. I was wild with fright, and you know what I did. I followed you here.”
He patted her cheek, and smoothed the hair from her forehead.
“Well, you’re safe enough ‘here, little woman,” he said with gruff kindliness. “I don’t see what you want to look so scared for.”
She lifted her face to his. “I haven’t told you yet,” she said, in a hoarse whisper. “Bryan, that man you call Jim Hamilton is the man who betrayed me. His real name is Maurice Huntly. He is an Englishman.”
“By thunder!”
The Englishman’s face was a study. The half-vexed sympathy with which he had been regarding the girl upon his knee, had altogether vanished. His face exhibited nothing but the blankest astonishment and wonder.
“You won’t give me up to him?” she whispered.
“No, I won’t give you up,” he promised absently. “Maurice Huntly! My God!”
She looked at him fixedly. A new light was breaking in upon her.
“You know—something about him,” she cried breathlessly.
“Not much,” he answered, with a short laugh. “Only that he is the man whom I have come five thousand miles to find. Huntly! Maurice Huntly! My God!”
IX. A NEW PARTNERSHIP
The stranger pursued his way with some difficulty down the caqon, and eventually reached the level without accident. Here he paused to take breath and look around. To the right the old bed of the river wound through a fertile valley, and here it was that the bulk of the gold-digging was being done. In the distance a few dark figures with lanterns in their hands were still bending over their work, but the great majority had finished for the day, and in the dim light the great deserted space, with its occasional mounds of fresh-dug earth, and a few rude shafts standing up against the naked sky, had a weird, ghostly appearance. The stranger, whose nerves appeared to be none of the strongest, shivered and led his mule away, following the track to the left. He turned round a steep promontory, and found himself at once in the midst of the settlement.
There were about a score of roughly put together wooden shanties, and one long pine-board building, in front of which several oil lamps were flaring steadily away in the breathless Most of the dwellers in the place seemed to be gathered round the latter building, although a few remained leaning against the walls of their shanties smoking alone. A few yards apart, a dozen or two Chinese were squatting on the ground round a large tent, playing cards by the light of several flickering candles.
The arrival of the stranger was the signal for a universal stir. The group around Cooper’s store all ceased talking, and turning round, saluted him with various exclamations. The men who had been lounging alone forgot their unsociability in the unwonted excitement, and crowded round him Even the Chinese threw down their cards, and gazed upon the new-corner open-mouthed.
“Any more of yer, matey?”
“What’s the gang?”
“Say, have you brought the mail?”
“Got
