Part 15

Merna stood like one shocked, a terrible weakness assailed her; she saw the laughing face but dimly, his voice sounded strange and far off.

His robust tones aroused her: “Aren’t you going to shake hands with me, after I have had such a time finding you?” he asked.

“Why did you seek me?” cried Merna passionately, surprised out of her usual self-control.

“Because I wanted to see you, to be sure!” The same laughing insouciance as of old, so impossible to understand; it might be pleasant raillery, it was quite as likely to be sarcasm.

“I wish that you had stayed away—after three years!” her voice rising shrilly.

He walked deliberately around the end of the counter, caught both her hands and held them firmly, his warm breath sweeping her cheek, his face so very near her own. “Did I not tell you that I should find you? I shall never lose sight of you!” his face still lower, his lips touching her cheek caressingly. “I am so glad to see you, my Merna! Say, ‘Ned I am glad that you are here!’” he whispered tenderly.

Ah, well! A woman’s a woman! and poor girl, her heart throbbed so happily; it seemed so good to have this great strong man holding her hands, whispering to her in this tender tone; what if the words did not promise much, the tone conveyed a world of tender meaning, and—she was so lonely. She had been so fiercely angry at him that she thought she hated him; she found that it was the act that she hated, and not the man; he held his old place in her heart. Presently she was shedding happy tears on his broad shoulder, and looking happily up into his face through her wet lashes; thrilling from her foolish little heart to the ends of her fingers with the delight of his very presence.

From this time on how different the dull, prosaic work seemed; the anticipation of the happy evening glorified each day, and he never failed to come. He appeared to be perfectly content in her company; he called her fond names, and usurped all the privileges of an accepted lover. He occasionally alluded to business, sometimes ending with, “When I get things into shape, I’ll pick you up and carry you off.”

Often Merna felt hurt, the allusions were so vague and really unmeaning, and the talk of business so indefinite—the sentences never quite complete—so that she had no certain knowledge as to what was his business. A half-confidence is much more vexatious than no confidence as it puts one to thinking; this was really no trust at all in her; just an aggravating shadow, like a cloud over the summer sun, which when you look upward in expectation of its grateful shade has sailed away.

A whole year passed away, and living in the light of his presence, her uneasy feeling had mostly worn away; if she gave it thought—that in reality she knew no more of the future than when he first returned, she consoled herself, and excused him, by saying, “Oh, he is so odd, but he means all right.”

As upon previous occasions there came an evening when she waited for him in vain; she could not settle herself to anything, even the chatter of her customers annoyed her, and her ear persistently hearkened for a well-known footstep; something must have detained him unavoidably; he would surely come to-morrow evening, but all the while her heart was sinking heavily. He did not come the next evening, nor the one following, and her fear grew to a certainty. She mentioned his name to no one, but watched the passers-by on the street, feverishly; she eagerly looked over the newspapers, hoping for a chance mention of him. The days seemed so long and wearisome; the corners of her mouth took a sad droop; the work grew so irksome. Others sought her company, but she turned from them with dislike, or made comparisons to their great detriment.

Business had heretofore been very good, but hard times came on, and little by little trade dropped off; it grew dull, then vexatious and finally exasperating; complaints were heard on every side. The days grew doubly sad when no customers came in to break the heavy monotony; the very silence grew oppressive, and Merna could scarcely restrain her tears. Her heart grew hard and bitter toward Ned, toward the world, and fate.

The wind whistled shrilly around the loosely built building, rattling the boards and battens, and swaying the canvas walls and ceiling dizzily, making Merna feel more desolate and despondent than usual. She stood behind the cigar case, looking gloomily out upon the wind-swept street; as if conjured up by her thought, Martin Balfour—her chief creditor—entered the store.

He came in with a great swagger, and called for a cigar: “Gi’mme a good one—twenty-five cent-er; I reckon I can afford it!” with an insolent leer.

Without reply, she handed him the box, to make his own choice.

He selected one, lighted it, and leaning lazily against the show case, puffed the smoke in huge volumes; he finally took the weed from his lips, ejected a mouthful of saliva on to the clean floor, flicked the ashes off with his little finger, and said, “Well, Miss Wood, I s’pose you are ready to chalk up this morning?”

Merna flushed a vivid red, then went deadly pale; this man held a mortgage on everything she possessed, and his manner was distinctly aggressive. “I could not get the money this morning, Mr. Balfour; I have the promise of it the latter end of the week, and I beg of you to wait,” faltered Merna.

He laughed loudly and coarsely: “As to waiting, I’ve waited just as long as I am going to; my kindness is all right, but I’m no guy, see! Your chump of a fellow left you to shift for yourself; I’m not one to drag up bygones—I’ll marry you, and call the debt square!” He leaned across the showcase, and tried to grasp her hand.

Merna drew herself up indignantly: “I thank you, but I prefer paying my debts in a legitimate way.”

“Well, fork over, then,” he said brutally.

Tears filled her eyes, she had not one-tenth the amount, so she tried to temporize: “I will certainly raise it by the middle of the week——”

“The mortgage is due; it’s got to be paid to-day! I’m going to take no more guff—either you promise to marry me, or I’ll take the stock before night, see!” Protruding his face toward her still more aggressively.

Merna grew calm as he became excited; she thought of Ned with a pang of bitterness, that he could place her in a position to be insulted upon his account by such a man; but her disgust of the man himself outweighed all else. “Take the goods now; I shall make no more effort!” she said coldly.

“You’ll be sorry! You’ll come whining to me when you’re starving,” he flung after her angrily, as he went out.

Within an hour the place was stripped of everything; Merna stood with folded arms and saw them taken out without a tear, she seemed benumbed.

An acquaintance passing, came in: “What is the trouble, Miss Wood? Are you obliged to give up?” he asked kindly.

“Yes,” briefly.

He looked at her sorrowful face, and his heart filled with pity for her. He laid his hand over her’s, and said kindly: “I wish that you would give me the privilege of caring for you——”

Merna put out her hand as though to shield herself: “Wait! Wait! I cannot answer you now; come back this evening; my heart is too full now to think—I thank you—” she finished brokenly.

He lifted her hand to his lips respectfully, as he replied, “I will come,” and went out quietly.

Merna felt a hysterical desire to laugh; two proposals in one morning, and not an earthly thing which she could call her own; she thought grimly that she could not accuse either of them of being fortune hunters. Everything had been taken except a small sheet-iron stove, an old chair, and a rickety table, these had not been considered worth removing. She sat down in the chair, and laid her head on her arms on the table; she wished that she could cry, her heart beat so heavily; a wild anguish swept over her as she thought of her mother; she would not have deserted her in her hour of need; she cried aloud as a thought of Ned forced itself upon her consciousness: “Why cling to the shadow of a love, which only tantalizes me; he had no real love for me! I was just a good comrade—and a fool!” she added bitterly.

Presently she resumed her self-communing: “Why not accept this last proposal? Tom Thornton is a good man, and he loves me; better one who loves me so well, than waste my life upon a shadow which ever eludes my grasp;” the well-remembered look of Ned’s jolly face—though she was so sad—made her smile, then sigh restlessly.

With her head resting upon the table she dropped off into wearied slumber, from whence she entered dreamland. Strange, troubled visions passed her, out of which evolved Tom Thornton’s face, she heard him enter, and he stood beside her, her affianced husband; he sought to take her hand, but she turned from him with aversion, reaching out both hands to Ned, who approached her, stern and menacing.

“I can-not! I can-not!” she cried piteously.

“What is it, that you cannot do?” said a hearty voice in her ear.

“Marry Tom Thornton!” raising her woe-begone, haggard face.

“I should think not! You are going to marry me this very night! I’ve got everything fixed—a nice home, and all,” he finished exultantly, but as usual, indefinitely.

Merna was very wide awake now, and cried out, bitterly, “Why did you come back? Why don’t you stay away when you go?” the only thought presented to her mind being that he would stay until her whole hopes were fixed upon him, then he would again leave.

“Why did I come? After you, of course! Little woman, I depended upon you, you promised me, you know!” his voice trembling with an undefined fear.

“Yes, I remember that I promised, but you seem to have forgotten, ever since that you asked me for that promise!” indignantly.

His good-looking face sobered into amazement: “Merna! I only wished to keep all the worry away from you. I thought that you would not understand, and if I told you it would make you anxious!” a deep trouble in his voice.

Merna stood up, her hands on his shoulders: “Oh, Ned, Ned! Do you think that I am a baby—that I haven’t a grain of sense? A woman thinks that the man she loves is able to accomplish all things—if only he tells her all about it,” she finished with a gleeful laugh.

He stood looking at her in bewilderment, trying to get the whole meaning of that speech into his mind; at last he caught her, giving her an extravagant hug: “I see what you mean; you want me to understand that we are to be partners in all things; the business as well as the pleasure—the sorrow as well as the joys; I never had a little ‘pard’ before, and I think I did not catch on just right; but I’ll remember my lesson,” said he, laughing happily.

The door stood slightly ajar, as Ned had left it upon entering, and Tom Thornton stepped quietly within; he paused and smiled; then sighed as he silently went out. He was answered.

THE END.

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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

1. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. 2. Anachronistic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed. 3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. 4. Enclosed bold font in =equals=.