It seemed that ruin of his hopes was in one scale; ruin of hers in the other. And she tried to pray for light and guidance; but there do seem to be times when the Lord is not interested in our problems; at least, no light or guidance of the kind she sought for came.
And she wrought herself up into a state of desperation. "At any price, this must stop," she kept saying over and over. Every expedient was turned in her mind and its outcome followed as far as she could; and ever it came back to this—her hopes or his were to be sacrificed.
"I will not let him go," she said aloud, with all the force of a strong will become reckless. "It would certainly be my grave; but it need not be his. There are other colleges and other ways. I'm not afraid of that. At any price, I must keep him. I'll marry him now. We'll be married at once. That will settle it."
The storm was over. The one plan was clear. That she would take—take and win; but, oh, how selfish she felt in taking it! She was sacrificing his career.
Yet ever she crushed the rising self-accusation with the "There are other colleges and other ways. I'll open the way for that." That was the sop to her inner judge, but the motive power was this: "At any price I must hold him." And convinced that the time had come to play her highest trump she fell asleep.
The following morning found Belle fully prepared for energetic action. She cleared the table and washed the dishes, putting them in their accustomed places, and stopped suddenly with the last of the china in her hand, wondering how long it would be before she held it again. Upstairs, she quickly packed her hand-bag for "a one-night camp" and, keeping ears and eyes alert, noted when at length her father had gone to his office and her mother had settled to her knitting. Then she went to her room and set about a careful toilet. The rebellious forelock was curled on a hot slate pencil and tucked back among its kind. Over each ear, she selected another lock for like elaboration. She put on her most becoming dress and studied the effect of her two brooches to make sure which one would help the most. She dashed a drop of "Violetta" on her handkerchief and pinched her cheeks to heighten their colour and remove the traces of the previous night's vigil. The beauty-parlour methods were not yet known in Cedar Mountain.
Jim always dropped in for a chat in the morning and it was not long before his cheery whistle sounded as down the street he came to the tune of "Merry Bandon Town." In his right hand he twirled a stout stick in a way that suggested a very practical knowledge of the shillelah. The flush of health and of youth suffused his cheeks and mounted to his forehead. All signs of worry over his impending fate were gone; indeed, no worry could live long in his buoyant mind; its tense electric chargement was sure death to all such microbes. Arrived at the Boyds', he did not stop to open the five-foot gate. Laying his fingers on the post, he vaulted over the pickets.
Belle met him on the porch. From somewhere back, Ma Boyd called out a thin-voiced "good morning," as they went into the front room.