The Desired Woman(Fiscle Part-3 Of 2) by Will N. Harben (e book reader pdf TXT) 📕

You Are Mine--All Mine; After All These Years Of Agony You Are Mine!"

She Raised A Pair Of Eyes To His In Which A Haunting Dread Seemed To

Lie Like A Shadow. "Oh,  I Feel So Queer!" She Sighed. "I Realized That

We Had To Hide And Dodge,  But I Did Not Like The Role. For The First

Time In My Life I Felt Mean And Sneaking. Already I Am Worried About

Father And The Boy--Father,  In Particular. He Is Getting Old And

Feeble. Perhaps The Shock To Him May Seriously Harm Him."

Buckton Smiled,  But Less Freely. He Sat Down In The Chair In Front Of

Her And Turned It Till He Faced Her. "We Have No Time To Bother About

Them,  Dear," He Said,  Passionately. "We Deserve To Live In Happiness,

And We Are Going To Do It. I Am So Happy I Can Hardly Speak. Oh,  We

Are Going To Have A Glorious Time! You Should Have Been Mine Long Ago.

Nature Intended It. We Are Simply Getting Our Dues."

"I Am Doing It Solely For Your Sake," She Faltered. "Because You've

Suffered So On My Account."

"And Not For Your _Own_ Sake? Don't Put It That Way,  Sweetheart." He

Took Her Hand; But,  Casting A Furtive Glance At The Backs Of The Few

Other Passengers In The Car,  She Withdrew It.

"Don't," She Protested,  Smiling. "We Must Be Careful." She Dropped A

Penetrating Gaze Into His Amorous Eyes,  And Applied Her Handkerchief

To Her Drooping Lips. "I've Been Thinking,  Andy,  About A Certain Thing

More Seriously Since The Train Started Than I Ever Did Before. Do You

Know,  Many Persons Believe That If A Woman Acts--Acts--Well,  As I Am

Doing Now,  The Man To Whom She Gives In Will,  Down At The Bottom Of

His Heart,  Cease To Respect And Love Her--In Time--In Time,  I Mean?"

"Bosh And Tommyrot!" Buckton Fairly Glowed. "Never,  Never,  When The

Case Is Like Ours. We Are Simply Doing Our Duty To Ourselves. Love

You? Why,  I Adore You! You Have Saved My Life,  Darling. I Would Have

Killed Myself. I've Been On The Very Brink Of It More Than Once. I've

Suffered Agonies Ever Since You Married. The Birth Of Your Child

Fairly Drove Me Insane. I Groveled In Blackest Despair. It Made Me

Feel That--That You Were,  Or Had Been,  Actually His. Oh,  It Was Awful!

Don't Regret Our Step. Think Of What Is Before Us. We'll Stop In

Charleston,  See The Quaint Old Town,  Go On To Savannah,  Stop A Day Or

So,  And Then Sail For New York. The Ships Are Good,  And At This Season

The Sea Is As Smooth As Glass. When We Get To New York We Will Simply

Paint The Town Red,  And If You Wish,  Then,  We'll Go On To Europe. What

Could Be More Glorious? Why,  The Whole World Is Ours."

She Smiled,  Almost Sadly,  And Then,  As If To Avoid His Gaze,  She

Glanced Out Of The Window. He Saw Her Breast Heave. He Heard Her Sigh.

"You Are A Man And I Am A Woman," She Muttered. "I Suppose That Makes

A Difference. In A Case Like Ours A Man Never Is Blamed By Society,

But The Woman Is. They Class Her With The Lowest. Oh,  Won't They Talk

At Home? Nothing Else Will Be Thought Of For Months. Old-Fashioned

Persons Will Say It Was The Life We Led. Do You Suppose It Could

Possibly--In Any Way--Injure Dick's Business?"

"How Could It?" Buckton Said,  With Caustic Impatience. "What Has This

To Do With His Affairs?"

"Oh,  I Don't Know!" She Exhaled The Words,  Heavily. "I Have Heard My

Father Say That Depositors Sometimes Take Fright At The Slightest

Things Concerning The Private Lives Of Bankers. Andy,  I Would Not Like

For This To--Cost Dick A Cent. I Couldn't Bear That."

"Do You Think You Ought To Entertain Such Fine-Spun Ideas In Regard To

Him When--When He Is Living As He Is?"

"That Has Bothered Me,  Too," She Said,  Quickly. "Somehow I Can't

Believe That He Ever Really Went Back To That Woman--That Is,  To Live

With Her. I Met Her Only A Week Ago On The Street. She Looked Straight

At Me,  And,  Somehow,  I Was Sure That He And She Were Not As They Used

To Be. Call It Intuition If You Like,  But Intuition Is Sometimes

Reliable. It May Have Been By Accident That They Were Together When

You Saw Them Out There. He Takes Lonely Walks In All Sorts Of

Directions. He Is A Strange Combination. His Love For Little Dick,  His

Constant Worrying About Him Is Remarkable. It Used To Make Me Mad,  But

In A Way I Respected Him For It."

"Let's Not Talk About Him," Buckton Implored. "All This Rubbish Is

Giving You The Blues. They Have Called Dinner. Let's Go Back To The

Dining-Car. The Service Is Fairly Good On This Line."

"I Couldn't Eat A Bite," Irene Answered.

"Well,  Let Us Go In,  Anyway. It Will Be A Change," He Said,  "And Will

Take Your Mind Off This Gloomy Subject. Think Of What Is Ahead Of Us,

Darling,  Not Behind."

She Rose,  And,  With A Smile Of Resignation To His Will,  She Followed

Him Through The Vestibule Into The Dining-Car. As They Went In They

Met A Portly Man Who Stood Aside For Them To Pass.

"How Are You,  Mr. Buckton?" The Man Smiled,  Cordially.

"Oh,  How Are You?" Buckton Answered,  With A Start And A Rapid Scrutiny

Of The Passenger's Face. Moving On,  He Secured Seats At A Table For

Two. As They Sat Down Facing Each Other He Noticed That The Man,  Who

Had Paid The Cashier For His Meal And Was Waiting For His Change,  Was

Eying Him And Irene With A Curious,  Almost Bold Stare.

"Who Is That Man?" Irene Questioned,  Rather Coldly,  As She Spread Out

Her Napkin.

"His Name Is Hambright," Buckton Answered,  With Assumed Lightness. "He

Is A Whisky Salesman. Somebody Brought Him To The Club The Other

Night,  And He Told A Lot Of Funny Stories. He Seems To Have Plenty Of

Money; His House May Give It To Him For Advertising Purposes. He

Fairly Throws It About To Make Acquaintances."

"I Don't Like His Looks At All," Irene Said,  Her Lips Curled In

Contempt. "Just Then He Stared At Me In The Most Impertinent Way. His

Hideous Eyes Actually Twinkled. Do You Suppose He Could Possibly Know

Who I Am?"

The Compliment That Every Visitor To Atlanta Would Know Her,  At Least

By Sight,  Rose To His Lips,  But He Suppressed It As Decidedly

Inappropriate To Her Mood.

"It Isn't At All Likely," Buckton Answered,  Instead. "Besides,  Even If

He _Did_,  What Ground Would He Have For Thinking That Our Being

Together On A Train Like This--You Know What I Mean."

"I Know What You _Want_ To Mean," Irene Said,  Disconsolately. "I Also

Know What Such A Creature As That Would Go Out Of His Way To _Think._"

"There,  You Are Off Again!" Buckton Laughed In A Mechanical Tone,

Which Betrayed His Uneasiness. "You Are Going To Keep Me Busy Brushing

Away Your Fancies. I See That Now. Pretty Soon You Will Expect The

Engineer To Shut Off Steam And Come Back To Take A Peep At Us. Your

Imagination Is Getting The Upper Hand Of You. Stop Short Now And Smile

Like Your True,  Sweet Self. I Am Happy And Care-Free,  And I Want You

To Be So."

She Said Nothing,  But Gave Him A Faint,  Childlike Smile. "You Are A

Dear,  Good Boy,  Andy," She Faltered. "I Am Going To Try To Be

Sensible. It Isn't The First Time Persons Have Acted This Way And Come

Out All Right,  Is It? I Don't Want Anything But Tea. Get A Pot. I

Think It Will Do Me Good."

Half An Hour Later They Returned To Their Seats In The Other Car. The

Tea Seemed To Have Exhilarated Her,  For She Smiled More Freely. There

Was A Touch Of Rising Color In Her Cheeks,  A Faint,  Defiant Sparkle In

Her Eyes. In Passing From One Car To The Other She Had Allowed Him To

Take Her Hand,  And He Pressed It Ardently. He Was Swinging Back Into

His Joyous And Triumphant Mood.

They Had Not Been Seated Long When The Train Came To A Sudden Stop.

There Was No Station Near,  And Several Of The Passengers Looked Out Of

The Windows,  And One Or Two Left The Car To See What Had Happened.

"Wait,  And I'll See What Is The Matter," Buckton Said. "I Hope We

Won't Be Delayed. It Is My Luck To Be Behind On Every Trip. I'm A

Regular Jonah."

The Stop Had Been Made Evidently To Take On Passengers,  For A

Wretchedly Clad Woman And A Little Barefooted Girl In Ragged Clothing

Were Courteously Helped Into The Car By The Conductor. Both The Woman

And The Girl Were Weeping Violently,  Their Sobs And Wailings Being

Distinctly Heard As They Sat Locked In Each Other's Arms. The Sight

Was Indeed Pitiful. The Conductor Bent Over Them,  Said Something In A

Crude Effort At Comfort,  And Then Left Them Alone. Buckton Came Back,

A Look Of Annoyance On His Face.

"What Is Wrong?" Irene Questioned Him As He Sat Down By Her.

"It Seems That The Woman's Husband Was A Track-Hand," Buckton

Explained. "He Worked Down The Road A Few Miles From Here,  And Was Run

Over And Killed About An Hour Ago. They Nagged Our Train To Take Her

And His Daughter To Him."

"Oh,  How Awful--How Awful!" Irene Cried,  In Dismay. "You Can See She

Is Broken-Hearted."

"Yes,  They Both Take It Hard," Buckton Said,  Frowning. "I Wonder What

We'll Run Up Against Next. I Wouldn't Care For Myself,  But Such Things

Upset You. Don't Look At Them. What Is The Use?"

"I Can't Help It," Irene Answered. "She Is The Most Wretched-Looking

Woman I Ever Saw. I Am Going To--To Speak To Her."

He Put Out A Detaining Hand,  But She Rose,  A Firm Look Of Kindly

Determination On Her Face. Going To The Weeping Woman,  Irene Sat Down

In A Chair Opposite Her,  And As She Did So The Woman Raised Her

Anguish-Filled Eyes.

"I Am So Sorry To Hear Of Your Trouble," Irene Began. "Is There

Anything I Can Do To Help You?"

The Woman,  Who