“You can’t see to——”
Lightning’s protest got no further. There was a cry—a cry such as the old man had never heard pass the girl’s lips before. It was half fierce, half laughing. It was something that smote him deeply, for there was pain, horror, and despair in it.
In a moment Molly’s bare arms were flung out full length on the table. Then they were spasmodically drawn up. Her head drooped forward, and her face was buried against her own warm flesh, and a flood of tears broke forth.
CHAPTER XXI
Out of the Past
“POOR little soul. Well, anyway, she’s had her dance and all it means to her. And I guess that’s quite a lot.”
Blanche sighed as she turned from the verandah post, against which she had been leaning, and moved to the chair beside a squat-legged table. She flung herself into it, and smiled as she contemplated the white-haired brother spread out full length in the lounging chair in front of her.
The man withdrew his gaze from the scene of activity below him. The population of the ranch was preparing for work after an early breakfast. In the distance a horseman was riding towards one of the great barns. There was no mistaking that figure. Its flaming head of bright red hair stood out like a beacon fire in the sunshine. He would be up at the house shortly. There were other figures, mounted or afoot, moving among the corrals, the ploughings, the pastures. It was so in almost every direction. The activity of it all must have been pleasantly encouraging to the man responsible for it. Yet somehow the expression of Jim Pryse’s eyes suggested no particular heartening.
For a moment he regarded his sister. She was full of that charm which had drawn the red-headed Larry Manford like a magnet to the heart of the mountains. Jim was by no means insensible to his sister’s beauty, and even in that preoccupied moment he found it pleasant to gaze upon.
“It was last night, eh?” he said. “The dance, I mean? You know you’re a good sort, Blanche,” he went on, rousing himself. “I’ll bet you fixed her right.”
“Fixed her?” Blanche laughed happily. “It’s a safe bet there wasn’t a woman around that dance that didn’t just about hate Molly Marton. It was a frock I hadn’t had a chance of wearing up here, and the—— It was one I’d had made just before I quit New York. I guess it’s out of date now. But it wouldn’t be in Hartspool. What a child! Just a simple kid that you wouldn’t fancy had a notion beyond her cook-stove and the farm. My, it makes me grieve to think about her. There she is, all alone, except for that queer old tough she calls Lightning. There’s not a soul nearer than ten miles. Do you get what that means to a young girl, Jim?”