Her emotions were struggling from the fetters with which she tried to bind them. Those men standing around! She wished they would go away about their business, but they surveyed her with the satisfied air of persons who felt that they belonged in all matters that were on foot.
Latisan was repressed, grave, keeping his place, as he had assigned a status to himself. She was glad when old Vittum broke upon the silence that had become embarrassing. “It won’t be like what it has been, after you’re gone, Miss Lida Kennard. But I feel that I’m speaking for the men when I say that you’re entitled to a lay-off, and if you’ll be out on the hill where you can wave your hand to us when we ride the leader logs into the hold-boom, we’ll all be much obligated to you! I was thinking of calling for three cheers, but I remember how this idea seemed to hit better.” He led the procession of men past her; they scrubbed their toil-roughened palms across their breasts and gave her silent pledges when they grasped her hand. “It’s sort of a family party,” said Vittum.
There was inspiration for her in that suggestion. This was no time for convention, for placid weighing of this consideration against that, for strait-laced repression. The environment encouraged her. Her exulting joy drove her on.
Once before, forced by the intensity of her need, she had made small account of convenances. But she acknowledged that a half truth had nearly compassed destruction of her hopes and the ruin of a man; a liar had taken advantage of an equivocal position. But now the whole truth about her was clear. Her identity was known—her motives were beyond all question. And there were no vindictive liars among those loyal followers who had come storming down the river for the sake of her cause.
If she did what she had in her mind to do, what was it except the confirmation of a pledge and the carrying out of a promise?
But when she looked appealingly up at Latisan he was steadfastly staring past her. Her impulses were already galloping, but the instant prick of pique was the final urge which made the impulses fairly run away.
She reached out and took Ward’s hand and pressed it between her palms.
“If it’s because I’m Lida Kennard instead of the table girl at Brophy’s tavern, you’re foolish,” she whispered, standing on tiptoe. “I gave you my promise. But perhaps you think it isn’t binding because there was no seal, such as I put on that lawyer’s paper down at the dam. Well—then—here’s the seal.”
She flung her arms about his neck and kissed his cheek.
“Now let the winged word take flight through the region!” she told herself. No man could misunderstand the declaration of that kiss!