“I am sure Mr. Glenister would not talk of me.” There was a pause. “Who is Miss Malotte?”
He studied for a moment, while she watched him. What a splendid figure he made in his evening clothes! The cosey room with its shaded lights enhanced his size and strength and rugged outlines. In his eyes was that admiration which women live for. He lifted his bold, handsome face and met her gaze.
“I had rather leave that for you to find out, for I’m not much at scandal. I have something more important to tell you. It’s the most important thing I have ever said to you, Helen.” It was the first time he had used that name, and she began to tremble, while her eyes sought the door in a panic. She had expected this moment, and yet was not ready.
“Not to-night—don’t say it now,” she managed to articulate.
“Yes, this is a good time. If you can’t answer, I’ll come back to-morrow. I want you to be my wife. I want to give you everything the world offers, and I want to make you happy, girl. There’ll be no gossip hereafter—I’ll shield you from everything unpleasant, and if there is anything you want in life, I’ll lay it at your feet. I can do it.” He lifted his massive arms, and in the set of his strong, square face was the promise that she should have whatever she craved if mortal man could give it to her—love, protection, position, adoration.
She stammered uncertainly till the humiliation and chagrin she had suffered this night swept over her again. This town—this crude, half-born mining-camp—had turned against her, misjudged her cruelly. The women were envious, clacking scandal-mongers, all of them, who would ostracize her and make her life in the Northland a misery, make her an outcast with nothing to sustain her but her own solitary pride. She could picture her future clearly, pitilessly, and see herself standing alone, vilified, harassed in a thousand cutting ways, yet unable to run away, or to explain. She would have to stay and face it, for her life was bound up here during the next few years or so, or as long as her uncle remained a judge. This man would free her. He loved her; he offered her everything. He was bigger than all the rest combined. They were his playthings, and they knew it. She was not sure that she loved him, but his magnetism was overpowering, and her admiration intense. No other man she had ever known compared with him, except Glenister—Bah! The beast! He had insulted her at first; he wronged her now.
“Will you be my wife, Helen?” the man repeated, softly.
She dropped her head, and he strode forward to take her in his arms, then stopped, listening. Some one ran up on the porch and hammered loudly at the door. McNamara scowled, walked into the hall, and flung the portal open, disclosing Struve.
“Hello, McNamara! Been looking all over for you. There’s the deuce to pay!” Helen sighed with relief and gathered up her cloak, while the hum of their voices reached her indistinctly. She was given plenty of time to regain her composure before they appeared. When they did, the politician spoke, sourly:
“I’ve been called to the mines, and I must go at once.”