"Trust me, have faith in me; and when the time comes, marry me."
This was usually the end of the conversation for Carlia; she became silent unless he changed the subject.
Dorian, naturally undemonstrative, was now more careful than ever in his love making. The intimacy between them never quite returned to the earlier state. Complete forgetfulness of what had been, was, of course, impossible, either for Carlia or for Dorian; but he tried manfully not to let the "specter" come too often between him and the girl he loved.
He frequently told her that he loved her, but it was done by simple word or act. Dorian"s greater knowledge gave him the advantage over her. He was bound by this greater knowledge to be the stronger, the wiser, the one who could keep all situations well in hand.
One evening, when Carlia was unusually sweet and tempting, he asked if he might kiss her goodnight. She set her face as if it were hard to deny him, but she finally said:
"No; you must not."
"Why not, Carlia?"
"We"re not engaged yet."
"Carlia!"
"We are not. I have never promised to marry you, have I?" She smiled.
"No; I guess not; but that"s understood."
"Don"t be so sure."
"There are some things definitely fixed without the spoken word."
"Good night, Dorian." She was smiling still.
"Good night, Carlia." Their hands met and clasped, atoning the best they could for the forbidden kiss.
One evening when the feeling of spring was in the air, Dorian was going to call on Carlia, when he heard the approach of an automobile. As it turned into the bystreet, leading to the Duke home, Dorian saw the driver to be Mr. Jack Lamont. Dorian kept in the road, and set his face hard. As the machine had to stop to prevent running over him, Dorian turned, walked deliberately to the side of the car, and looking steadily into Mr. Lamont"s face, said:
"I"m going to Mr. Duke"s also. If I find you there, I"ll thrash you within an inch of your life. Drive on."
For a moment, the two glared at each other, then the automobile went on--on past the Duke house toward town. When Dorian arrived at his destination, Carlia greeted him with:
"Dorian, what"s the matter?"
"Nothing," he laughed.
"You"re as pale as a ghost."
"Am I? Well, I haven"t seen any ghosts--Say, mother wants you to come to supper. She has something you specially like. Can you?"
"Sure, she can," answered her mother, for she was glad to have Carlia out away from the work which she was determined to stick to closer than ever. Carlia was pleased to go, and kept up a merry chatter until she saw that Dorian was exceptionally sober-minded. She asked him what was the matter with him, but he evaded. His thoughts were on the man whom he had prevented from calling at her home that evening. What was his errand? What was in the scoundrel"s mind? Dorian struggled to put away from him the dark thoughts which had arisen because of his recent encounter with Mr. Lamont. All the evening at home and during their walk back he was unusually silent, and Carlia could only look at him with questioning anxiety.
Spring, once started, came on with a rush. The melting snow filled the river with a muddy flood; the gra.s.s greened the slopes; the bursting willows perfumed the air; the swamp awakened to the warm touch of the sun. Dorian"s busy season also began.
As soon as the roads were pa.s.sible, Dorian drove up to his dry-farm. On one of these first trips he fell in with a company of his neighboring dry-farmers, and they traveled together. While they were stopping for noon at a small hotel in the canyon, a rain storm came up, which delayed them. They were not impatient, however, as the moisture was welcome; so the farmers rested easily, letting their horses eat a little longer than usual.
The conversation was such which should be expected of Bishop"s counselors, president of Elders" quorums, and cla.s.s leaders in the Mutual, which these men were. On this occasion some of the always-present moral problems were discussed. Dorian was so quiet that eventually some one called on him for an opinion.
"I don"t think I can add anything to the discussion," replied Dorian.
"Only this, however: One day in Sunday school Uncle Zed painted the terrors of sin to us boys in such colours that I shall never forget it.
The result in my case is that I have a dreadful fear of moral wrong doing. I am literally scared, I--"
Dorian turned his eyes to the darkened doorway. Mr. Jack Lamont stood there with a cynical expression on his face. His hat was tilted back on his head, and a half-smoked cigarette sagged from his lips. The genial warmth of the room seemed chilled by the newcomer"s presence.
"G"day, gentlemen," said Mr. Lamont. "Mr. Trent, here, is afraid, I understand."
The men arose. Outside the clouds were breaking. Dorian stepped forward, quite close to Jack Lamont.
"Yes, I am afraid," said Dorian, his face white with pa.s.sion, "but not of what you think, not of what you would be afraid, you dirty, low, scoundrel!"
Lamont raised a riding whip he had in his hand, but the men interfered, and they all moved outside into the yard. Dorian, still tense with anger, permitted himself to be taken to the teams where they began hitching up. Dorian soon had himself under control, yet he was not satisfied with the matter ending thus. Quietly slipping back to where Mr. Lamont stood looking at the men preparing to drive on, he said, "I want a word with you."
The other tried to evade.
"Don"t try to get away until I"m through with you. I want to tell you again what a contemptible cur you are. No one but a d.a.m.ned scoundrel would take advantage of a girl as you did, and then leave her to bear her shame alone."
"Do you mean Carlia--"
"Don"t utter her name from your foul lips."
"For if you do, I might say, what have I got to do with that? You were her lover, were you not? you were out with her in the fields many times until midnight, you--"
The accusing mouth closed there, closed by the mighty impact of Dorian"s fist. The blood spurted from a gashed lip, and Mr. Lamont tried to defend himself. Again Dorian"s stinging blow fell upon the other"s face.
Lamont was lighter than Dorian, but he had some skill as a boxer which he tried to bring into service; but Dorian, mad in his desire to punish, with unskilled strength fought off all attacks. They grappled, struggled, and fell, to arise again and give blow for blow. It was all done so suddenly, and the fighting was so fierce, that Dorian"s fellow travelers did not get to the scene before Jack Lamont lay p.r.o.ne on the ground from Dorian"s finishing knockout blow.
"d.a.m.n him!" said Dorian, as he shook himself back into a somewhat normal condition and spat red on the ground. "He"s got just a little of what"s been coming to him for a long time. Let him alone. He"s not seriously hurt. Let"s go."
CHAPTER TWENTY.
On a Sat.u.r.day afternoon in early July Dorian and a neighbor were coming home from a week"s absence up in the hills. They were on horseback, and therefore they cut across by way of the new road in course of construction between Greenstreet and the city.
The river was high. The new bridge was not yet open for traffic, but horses could safely cross. As the two riders pa.s.sed to the Greenstreet side, they saw near the bridge down on the rocks by the rushing river, an automobile, overturned and pretty well demolished. Evidently, someone had been trying to reach the bridge, had missed the road, and had gone over the bank, which at this point was quite steep.
The two men stopped, dismounted, and surveyed the wreck. Someone was under the car, dead or alive, they could not tell. Dorian unslung his rope from his saddle, and took off his coat. "I"ll go down and see," he said.
"Be careful," admonished the other, "if you slip into the river, you"ll be swept away."
Dorian climbed down to where the broken machine lay. Pinned under it with his body half covered by the water was Mr. Jack Lamont. He was talking deliriously, calling in broken sentences for help. Dorian"s hesitancy for an instant was only to determine what was the best thing to do.
"Hold on a bit longer, Mr. Lamont," said Dorian; but it was doubtful whether the injured man understood. He glared at his rescuer with unseeing eyes. Part of the automobile was already being moved by the force of the stream, and there was danger that the whole car, together with the injured man, would be swept down the stream. Dorian, while clinging to the slippery rocks, tried to pull the man away, but he was so firmly pinned under the wreck that he could not be moved. Dorian then shouted to his companion on the bank to bring the rope and come to his a.s.sistance; but even while it was being done, a great rush of water lifted the broken car out into the stream. Lamont was released, but he was helpless to prevent the current from sweeping him along.
Dorian reached for the man, but missed him and stepped into a deep place. He went in to his arms, but he soon scrambled on to a shallower point where he regained his balance. The unconscious Lamont was beginning to drift into the current and Dorian knew that if he was to be saved he must be prevented from getting into the grasp of the mid-stream. Dorian took desperate chances himself, but his mind was clear and his nerves were steady as he waded out into the water. His companion shouted a warning to him from the bank, but he heeded it not.