"He has done enough!"
Mrs. MacGregor's eyes were cold and merciless as those of a snake watching its victim. She thought long before speaking. She was conscious that there was danger in handling for one's own purposes a mind so feeble and hesitating as Amy's, but she must make the attempt. Should she rest content with having instilled the subtle poison in Amy's mind, leaving it to work slowly to a doubtful end? Could she be sure that it would do its work? On the other hand, to one of Amy's mental caliber, would the plain, brutal statement, stripped of ambiguity, be more than a suggestion? In this latter course there lay the danger that Amy would grasp the full import of her words and that in the mental agony that would surely follow, she would go to Elijah at once. Would she go to Elijah? Mrs. MacGregor felt sure that she would not. Weak as Amy was, she would intuitively feel the hopelessness of an appeal to him. Already she was vaguely conscious that her hold upon him was slight, how slight she would not dare to put to the test. She would not openly acknowledge this fear to herself, much less to others, least of all to Elijah. She had a fixed purpose in her mind, to fit herself to take Helen's place and upon its success she had staked all. To abandon her secret efforts would leave her again wandering, wavering, to go over the whole weary ground again. Mrs. MacGregor made her decision. Her voice was modulated, almost sympathetic, but it was firm and decided.
"No, Amy, he has not done enough. You have not done enough. He must go on. He must give you up. You must give him up."
Amy sprang from her chair. Her work slipped from her lap and lay huddled at her feet. Slowly, painfully, the meaning of Mrs. MacGregor's words was boring into her brain. Her eyes were wide open, pitifully pleading, like the eyes of a shrinking victim in the clutch of a beast of prey. Then they changed to a look as hard and resolute as her eyes were capable of expressing.
"Give up Elijah! I'll never give up Elijah. Never! Never! Never!" Then she fled through the open door.
Mrs. MacGregor smiled complacently. "Never," was a long time. She had steered close to the line, but she felt that she had won. As it happened, chance aided her. Had Elijah been at home, in her first agony, Amy would doubtless have gone to him and have risked all in a frantic appeal. But Elijah was away and it was late before he returned. In her room, Amy sat with the dumb misery of a suffering animal. It did not occur to her to rise up in righteous wrath against the brutal woman who had inflicted this torture upon her, much less against her husband. She was thinking of herself, of her happiness that had been, of the awful fear that was consuming her. Justice or injustice was far from her thoughts. In bitter desperation she clung to the feeble purpose that she had fashioned for her salvation. Gradually this purpose regained its hold upon her. She was wasting time and there was none to lose. Trembling in every nerve she hastened from her room, from their room, and with trembling fingers turned the pages of "A & B's Elements" and bent herself to her all but hopeless task. With quivering lips and hard, dry eyes she wrote and rewrote the problems of the book and strove to master them. She was unconscious of time, only that it was long and bitter. The magnitude of her task appalled her, the hopelessness of it overwhelmed her, she tried to hold herself to it; but in vain. With a wailing cry she buried her head in her arms and gave way to the tears that at last came to her relief.
It was late that night when Elijah returned. He gave his horses in charge of the sleepy Mexican and entered the house. He went directly to their room, but Amy was not there. The bed was undisturbed. Elijah passed quietly to the next room. It was Amy's own. A light softly glowing beneath the door-sill told him that the room was occupied. He opened the door gently and stood stiffened, immovable, at the sight before him. Amy was seated at her little work-table. A shaded lamp threw its full light upon her head, resting upon her outstretched arms. Her face was turned toward him; the light showed lids, red and tear-stained. Near one outstretched hand was a pencil, fallen from the sleep-loosened fingers. There was a worn book lying open, surrounded by loose papers. Elijah moved softly toward the table. He picked up the book. It was "A & B's Elements." The tear-blotched papers were covered with figures. Elijah replaced the book and papers. Like a flash the whole explanation of the open book, and the figure-covered papers came to him. His eyes were upon the bowed head, upon the baby lips moving pathetically in their troubled sleep. His guardian angel was pleading hard within him. With wide-open, motionless eyes he bent forward, his hands outstretched, his foot lifted to take the step that would redeem him. Then his hands fell slowly to his side; he straightened and turned away abruptly. As softly as he had entered the room, so softly he left it.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Elijah had no difficulty in securing options on the land which he and Mrs. MacGregor had selected. They had, however, underestimated the apathy of the Mexican owners, who, while perfectly willing to give options with no preliminary payments, were adamant as to the length of time to which the options should be extended.