She patted his cheek, the pat more like a smart slap. He pulled away. “That’s for disobedience. Come back. I’m not through with you. Where’s your mouth? A big, long mouth. Pete, why does your mouth tremble?” Her hand fell from his lips, and she turned away. “Take me out for a walk, Hugh, please,” she said. “This cabin is stuffy, now that the days are warm. I want to sit under the pines and listen to the river. You can tell me one of your wonderful stories about yourself.”
“What does it mean, Bella?” Pete asked breathlessly when Hugh had gone out, not so much leading the girl as hurrying after her to save her from the rashness of her impetuous progress. “What does it mean?” Pete was as white as paper.
“I don’t know.” Bella came over from the window and stood by the fireplace, rolling her arms in her apron and shaking her head. “She’s a crazy little witch. She’ll drive us mad. Hugh is half mad now—have you noticed? She won’t let him touch her. And you, poor boy! Pete, why don’t you go away?”
“I’ve thought about it,” he said. “I—I can’t.” He flung himself down in Hugh’s chair and rested his head in his hands.
Bella bent over him. “Poor Pete! It’s cruel for you—and,” she added softly, uncertainly, “and for me.”
“For you too, Bella?” He looked up at her through tears.
She nodded her head, and her face worked. “Perhaps you could take her back to her friends, Pete?”
“And leave Hugh? Didn’t you hear what he said, Bella? Life and death! It would kill him if she should go away with me. Or—he’d follow and kill me.”
“Yes,” Bella assented somberly; “yes, he’d kill you. The devil is still living in his heart.”
“No. Sylvie will marry him. Hugh gets his will.” Pete shook his head. “Wait a few days—you’ll see. She’s fighting against him now; I don’t know why—some instinct. But though he tells her so many lies, he doesn’t lie about one thing. He loves her. He does love her.”