“My mind is quite made up,” she said. “There is nothing more to be said. You must choose here—and now.”
The man hesitated. Just for a moment a gleam of anger flashed into his eyes, but it died almost at its birth, and he made a gesture of something like despair.
“You must do as you see fit,” he said, yielding. Then, in a moment, his weakness was further displayed in an impotent obstinacy. “You must do as you see fit, and I shall do the same. My mind, too, is made up. I shall carry out the plans I have already made, and if harm comes—blame yourself.”
He turned away abruptly. He refused even to look in her direction again. He sprang into the saddle with remarkable agility and galloped off.
Charlie Bryant raced back to his house. For the moment a sort of frenzy was upon him. He flung out of the saddle, and left his horse at the veranda. He rushed into his sitting room, and, in a sort of impotent excitement and anger, he paced the floor.
He went through the little house without object or reason. At the kitchen door he stood staring out, lost in a troubled sea of racing thought. Presently he returned to the sitting room. He was about to pass out on to the veranda, but abruptly paused. With a gesture of impatient defiance he returned to his bedroom and drew a black bottle of rye whisky from beneath the mattress of his bed. Without waiting to procure a glass he withdrew the cork, and, thrusting the neck of the bottle into his mouth, took a long “pull” at the contents. After a moment he removed it, and gasped with the scorch of the powerful liquor. Then he took another long drink. Finally he replaced the cork and returned the bottle to its hiding place.
A few moments later he was on the veranda again looking out over the village with brooding eyes. For a long while he stood thus, his stimulated thought rushing madly through his brain. Then, later, he became aware of movement down there in the direction of the Meeting House. He realized that service was over. In a few moments Bill would return for the mid-day meal which was all unprepared.
With a short, hard laugh he left the veranda and mounted his patient horse. Then, at another headlong gallop, he raced down toward the village.