She shuddered and shrank back. In her eyes was a helpless look, very different from that which she had given not so many days before when, with Orlando Guise behind her, she had defied her aged husband in his doorway, and her defiance had moved him from her path. Then she had been inspired by the fact that the man she loved was near her, that she had been wrongfully accused and was ready to fight. Afterwards, however, when she was alone, the sterile presence of Joel Mazarine, his merciless eyes, his hopeless religious tyranny, had worn upon her as his past violence had never done.
“Wicked!” Did this man, then, believe her guilty? Did he, of all men, think that the night upon the prairie alone with Orlando had been her undoing? Had not the brother of Rigby the chemist borne witness with his own eyes to her complete innocence? If the Young Doctor disbelieved, then indeed she was undone.
“You don’t think that of me—of me!” she gasped, her lips all white again. She got to her feet excitedly. “You shall not believe it of me.”
“No, I did not say I believed that,” the other remarked almost casually. “But if I did believe it, I don’t know that it would make much difference to me. Fate, or God Almighty, or whatever it was, had stacked the cards against you. When I said it was wicked, I meant you did wrong in rushing away from your husband and coming to me. I suppose you have definitely left your husband—eh? You’ve ‘left’ him, as they say?”
He had an incorrigible sense of humour, as well as an infinite common sense. He wanted to break this spell of tense emotion which possessed her. So he pursued a new course.
“Don’t you think it’s rather hard on me?” he continued. “I’m a lone man in this house, with only one old woman to protect me, and I’m unmarried. I’ve a reputation to lose, and there are lots of mothers and daughters hereabouts. Besides, a medical practice is hard to get and not easy to keep. What do you mean by making a refuge of me, when there’s nothing for me in it, not even the satisfaction of going into the Divorce Court with you? You wicked Mrs. Mazarine!”
“Oh, don’t speak like that!” Louise interjected. “Please don’t. Don’t scold me. I had to come. I was going mad.”
The Young Doctor had the case well in hand. He had eased the terrible tension; he was slowly reducing her to the normal. It was the only thing to do.
“What did Mazarine do or say to you that made you run away? Come now, didn’t you first make up your mind to go to Slow Down Ranch—to Orlando?”
She flushed. “Yes, but only for a minute. Then I thought of you, because I knew you could help me as no one else could. Everybody believes in you. But then Li Choo—”