Of course, Gerty must do it the conventional way! She would have used rope ladders had they been needed. The conventional note was pinned to her bureau scarf.
Innes was with Tom when he found it. They came in together from the river. Neither had noticed the odd looks from the men as they passed through the encampment. A dozen men had seen Hardin’s wife leave for the North with Godfrey.
Gerty’s letter told Tom that it was all over. She had tried to stand it, to be true even through his cruelty, but a feeling stronger than she was made her true to herself, and so true at last to him! Falsely dramatic, every word of it, romantically cruel.
Innes’ revulsion lacked speech. The fulfilment of her intuitions left a smudge; indelible, she knew when she looked at Tom’s face. She stretched out her hand mutely for the letter. The common blatter sickened her. She could offer no comfort. His eyes told her it was worse than death.
He struck off her hand when it touched his shoulder. Gerty’s hand had coerced him that way. He was done with softness.
His silence oppressed her. This was a man she did not know; inarticulate, smitten. She told herself that even a sister was an intruder—but she was afraid to leave him alone. She went out, pitifully, questioning those tense face-muscles. She took a station by her own tent door. She would not go down to dinner. Tom, in that mood, frightened her. For hours, she watched his tent. When it grew dark, she could no longer endure it. He did not answer her knock. She found him where she had left him. But it was a different Hardin. The backward look now for him. He had buried, in those hours, his optimism. His life was lived. Gerty’s blow had made of him an old man.
She forced herself toward the volcano’s edge; and the swift eruption scorched her. It was the pitiable wreck of dignity, of pride. His words were incoherent; his wrath involved his sister, crouching in tears. When he was done, he began hurling clothes and brushes indiscriminately into his Gladstone.
“You are not going after them?” She had not gathered his plan.
“Yes, I’m going after them,” he shouted. “I’m not wanted, you mean. An uninvited guest. I’ll give them a chance for reciprocity.”
She caught his arm. “Tom,” she pleaded, “you can’t go like this. Wait until you are calm. Until you can see this clearly.” She thought then that he meant to kill Godfrey.