Mrs. West had been watching the road for nearly an hour, each moment expecting Bess to come. The man had started after the girl early in the morning, and she was impatient for their arrival. At last her anxiety was relieved as she caught a glimpse of Mauchacho hurrying toward home. She clasped the girl in a loving embrace and told her how long the time had been and how lonely she had felt.
“I am never going to let you go away again, my dear; I cannot be happy without you!”
“I’m going—to—to—a—be married next month!” came like a thunderbolt from a clear sky. Bess slowly continued to draw off her riding gloves, then to unfasten her sombrero, and flung them upon the steps where she stood. She ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it back from her face, glancing at the same time at the “little Mother,” whose silence became alarming. The woman’s face grew white, and her eyes dimmed by a thin film.
“Next month—Mr. Davis—he will take me away—” continued Bess, disconnectedly. Then pulling herself together she told Mrs. West of Mr. Davis’ visit; how he had implored her to end his unhappiness; that he could not go away without her.
“I thought it all over as I came riding home. James will not always care to be tied down by an ‘old maid’ sister, as I realize that before very long he and Berenice Morton will be married; and while I know that their home would gladly be shared with me, still I could not forever be an encumbrance. You—little Mother—the only mother I have ever known—I would gladly stay near you—always. But he needs me, too—I have made him care for me, and now can I honestly, honorably, destroy his happiness, or perhaps his life?”
Mrs. West listened closely to the serious declaration, then lifting the lovely face with both her hands, she questioned: “Do you love him, Bess?”
For an instant the eyelids quavered, then with hesitation Bess replied: “How can I know? He fills me with a strange excitement. It must be love! I do not know.”
“Well, my dear—I pray you may be happy. He must convince you that you do love him, that you understand the new and subtle voice in your heart.”
“Yes—yes—” came from the girl’s lips in an abstracted tone, while her soft brown eyes sought something in far-off space. She did not hear when Mrs. West again addressed her, and gave a sudden start as one awakened abruptly from slumber when the white-haired woman touched her tenderly.
“You did not hear what I told you, dear; I said that I also had a surprise for you. See! Here it is,” as she held up a yellow envelope. “It is a message from your friend, Miss Morton. Fearing it contained some very important news, I took the liberty to read it in case I should need to send a messenger after you to the camp. It came two days ago.”