“No,” Steve said to her in a voice as cold as tempered steel, “nothing matters—a man’s honour or dishonour, or death or ruin—nothing matters to you as long as you are satisfied. I hope that is a satisfaction to you, and that you’re able to keep it. And you can’t be made answer for your words—but mark me, Ned Gunliffe, you can, and will be made to, if I hear more of them.”
He lifted his hat, and swung on his heel and left them.
“Ned,” said Ess, shakily, “I wonder if there could have been any mistake. Surely he couldn’t speak as he did if he were guilty.”
“Speak?” snarled Ned. “Trust him to know how to speak to make a girl believe him. He’s made you half believe him now, even after what you saw and heard the other night. I don’t want you to listen to a word from him or open your lips to him again.”
“I require no telling to know what is right for me to do, Ned,” she answered, and Ned had to content himself with that.
CHAPTER XVII.
Ess was not able to get away from the Ridge as soon as she had expected. Mr. Sinclair sent word that he would not be over for two or three days, and as not a man could be spared from the work to drive her down, she had no choice but to stay.
The position was embarrassing for her, but Steve saved it being too much so by avoiding her and saying no more than “Good Morning” or “Good Evening” when they met. He quieted Aleck’s grumbles at seeing so little of him by saying that he could not understand why it was, but he was most confoundedly sleepy all day, and spent long hours in his bunk. Aleck thought that possibly he was feeling his wounds more than he would confess, and did not press the point, especially as he could plainly see that there was something decidedly wrong with Steve, and that he was far from being his old careless, happy self.
But Steve was sick enough of his unusual inaction, and he jumped at the chance that Scottie gave him of a day’s work in the hills amongst the cattle.