To Eve, fighting her lonely battle in the solitude of her small home, amidst the cloth and trimmings of her trade, the sight of Annie’s cheerful, friendly face always had a rousing effect. She lived from day to day in a world of grinding fear. Her mind was never clear of it now. And she clung to her work as being the only possible thing. She dared not go out more than she was actually obliged for fear of hearing the news she dreaded. There was nothing to be done but wait for the sword to fall.
But these last three days her fears had been divided, and she found herself torn in two different directions by them. Where before it had always been her husband, now, ever since the night of Jim Thorpe’s going, he was rarely out of her thoughts. Now, even more than at the time when she first understood the sacrifice he was about 306 to make for her. And the nobleness of it appealed to her simple woman’s mind as something sublime. He was a branded man before, but now, so long as he remained in Barnriff, or wherever he met a man who had lived in Barnriff at this time, so long as Will escaped capture, the pointing finger would be able to mark honest Jim Thorpe as a––cattle-thief. He was powerless to do more than deny it. The horror of it was dreadful.
He had done it for her. And her woman’s heart told her why. Her thoughts flew back to those days, such a little way back, yet, to her, so far, far away, when his kind serious eyes used to look into hers in their gentle caressing fashion, when his unready tongue used to halt over speaking those nice things a woman, in her simple vanity, loves to hear from a man she likes. She thought of the little presents he used to make her so awkwardly, all prompted by his great, golden, loving heart.
And she had passed him by for that other. The man with the ready, specious tongue, with the buoyant, self-satisfied air, with the bright, merry eyes of one who knows his power with women, who rarely fails to win, and, having won easily, no longer cares for his plaything. But she had loved Will then, and had Jim been an angel sent straight from heaven he could not then have taken her from him.
But now? Ah, well, now everything was different. She was older. She was, perhaps, sadly wiser. She was also married, and Jim was, could be, nothing to her. His nobleness to her was the nobleness which was not the result of a selfish love that looks and hopes for its reward, she told herself. It was part of the man. He would have acted that way whatever his feelings for her. 307 He was a great, loyal friend, she told herself again and again, and her feeling for him was friendliness, a friendliness she thanked God for, and nothing more. She told herself all this, as many a woman has told herself before, and she fancied, as many another good and virtuous woman has fancied, that she believed it.
When Annie entered her workroom she looked up with a wistful smile of welcome, but the sight of the clouds obscuring the sunshine of the girl’s face stopped her sewing-machine at once, and ready sympathy found prompt expression in her gentle voice.
“What is it, dear?” she inquired. “You look––you look as if you, too, were in trouble.”
Annie tried to smile back in response. But it was a poor attempt. She had been thinking so hard on her way to Eve. She had been calculating and figuring so keenly in her woman’s way. And curiously enough she had managed to make the addition of two and two into four. She felt that she must not hesitate now, or the courage to display the accuracy of her calculation, and at the same time help her friend, would evaporate.
“Trouble?” she echoed absently. “Trouble enough for sure, but not for me, Eve,” she stepped round to the girl’s side and laid a protecting arm about her shoulders. “You can quit those fears you once told me of. I––think he’s safe away.”
Had Annie needed confirmation of her deductive logic she had it. The look of absolute horror which suddenly leaped into Eve’s drawn face was overwhelming. Annie’s arm tightened round her shoulders, for she thought the distraught woman was about to faint.