She now burst into a passionate flood of tears, and I released her wrists, ready, however, to catch them again if she made any motion to reach the revolver.
During this fierce if brief contest,—it took less time in happening than it requires in telling,—Miss Stretton had been seated in the chair upon which the angry woman had thrust her, and she gazed at us in open-eyed terror. The old man stood half leaning against the table, steadying himself with his hands. Miss Hemster’s fit of weeping was as dramatic as everything else she did. It began with a burst of very angry and genuine tears, and this storm passed through a gamut of more or less varying emotions until it subsided into a hysterical half-sobbing, half-gasping wail which resembled the cry of the helpless child who had been tyrannized over. It was bogusly pathetic, but I saw it went straight to the old man’s heart and wrung it with very real agony, and this mean advantage which I knew she was taking of the father’s deep love for her increased my scornful contempt for the creature. His grief was actual enough, and she was quite consciously playing upon it, although,—wonderful actress that she was,—she pretended an utter abandon of heart-breaking sorrow.
As for me, I undoubtedly felt myself the brute she had named me, and even at that moment,—much more so later,—was shocked to find in my own nature depths of primeval savagery which had hitherto been unsuspected. Seeing, however, that the worst of the storm was over, and that the young woman would make no more attempts at gun-firing, I replaced the drawer in position and threw into it its scattered former contents. Then I picked up the revolver, saying:
“I will keep this, for there is nothing more dangerous than such an instrument in the hands of a woman who can’t shoot.”
The effect of this remark on the drooping figure was instantaneous. She abruptly raised her tear-sodden face, which now became crimson with a new wave of anger.
“You gaping baboon,” she cried, “I can shoot a great deal better than you can!”
I paid no heed to her, but, advising Mr. Hemster to lock up any other firearms he might have on board, abruptly left the saloon.