In two weeks Jim was to leave Cedar Mountain. Belle had reasoned with him, coaxed him, cajoled him into seeing that that was the right trail for him. He must complete his college course, then they could marry with the sanction of the Church and be assured of a modest living. But the rules were strict; no ungraduated student might marry. The inadequacy of the stipend, the necessity for singleness of aim and thought, the imperative need of college atmosphere—these were absolute. Viewed from any standpoint, celibacy was the one wise condition for the untrained student.
It had taken all of Belle's power to make Jim face the horror of those classrooms in the far East; and from time to time his deep repulsion broke into expression. Then she would let him rage for a while, chew the bit, froth and rail till his mood was somewhat spent. And when the inevitable reaction set in she would put her arm about him and would show him that the hard way was surely the best way, and then paint a bright picture of their future together when his rare gifts as an orator should bring him fame, and secure a position in the highest ranks of the Church. Thus she had persuaded him, holding out the promise that every vacation should be spent with her; curbing her own affections, even as she had curbed his, she walked the path of wisdom—determined, resigned—in the knowledge that this was the way to win. And Jim had come to face it calmly now, even as she had done. The minute details of the plan were being filled in. Then came those little words from Lou-Jane.
Had Jim been a worldly-wise person with many girl friends and a mouth full of flattery for them all, Belle would have paid no attention to the proposed visit of Lou-Jane to Rochester. Knowing Jim as she did, and having a very shrewd idea of Lou-Jane's intentions, Belle realized that this was a crisis, the climax of her life and hopes, that everything that made her life worth while was staked on the very next move.
She said little as they walked home from the parsonage, but her hand, locked in his arm, clung just a little more than usual, and he was moved by the tenderness of her "Good-night."
Little she slept that night; but tossed and softly moaned, "That woman, that coarse, common woman! How can he see anything in her? She is nothing but an animal. And yet, what may happen if he is East and she is playing around, with me far away? It cannot be. I know what men are. Now he is mine; but, if I let him go far away and she follows——
"It cannot be! It must not be—at any price, I must stop it. I must hold him."
And she tossed and moaned, "At any price! At any price! I'd do anything——"
The simple, obvious plan was to put him under promise never to see or hear from Lou-Jane; but her pride and her instincts rebelled at the thought. "What? Admit that there was danger from that creature? No, no—why, that would have just the wrong effect on him; she would become doubly interesting; no, that would not do. She would ignore that—that—that snake. And then what?
"At any price, this must be stopped"; and out of the whirling maelstrom of her thoughts came this: "If I cannot keep her from going, I'll go, too!" How? In what capacity? Belle knew enough of his mind to be sure that however the plan was carried out, it would shock his ideas of propriety and be a losing game.
Lou-Jane was playing better than she was, and it maddened her ever more as she realized that the present plans could end only in one way—the way that she, at any price, must stop. And in the hours of tumult, of reasoning every course out to its bitter end, this at length came clear: There was but one way—that was marry him now. It was that or wreck the happiness upon which both their lives had been built. And yet that meant ruin to his whole career. She, herself, had told him so a hundred times. "He must go back to college. He must not marry till his three years were completed." These were her very words.