The King of Beaver, and Beaver Lights | Page 7

cannot!" flashed Emeline.
"Some one will kill him yet. He is not understood at his best, and he
cannot endure defeat of any kind. When you come into the family you
must guard him from his enemies as I have constantly guarded him. If
you ever let a hair of his head be harmed--then I shall hate you!"
"Mrs. Strang, do you come here to push me too! My uncle's family,
everything, all are closing around me! Why don't you help me? I
loathe--I loathe; your husband!"

Mary French rose, her smile changing only to express deep tenderness.
"You are a good girl dear. I can myself feel your charm. I was not so
self-denying. In my fierce young girlhood I would have removed a rival.
But since you ask me, I will do all I can for you in the way you desire.
My errand is done. Good-by."
"Good-by," said Emeline, restraining herself.
She sat watching the elastic shape under the parasol move with its
shadow across the field. She had not a doubt until Mary French was
gone; then the deep skill of the Prophet's wife with rivals sprung out
like a distortion of nature.
Emeline had nearly three weeks in which to intrench herself with
doubts and defences. She felt at first surprised and relieved. When her
second absence from the Tabernacle was passed over in silence she
found in her nature an unaccountable pique, which steadily grew to
unrest. She ventured and turned back on the woods path leading to St.
James many times, each time daring farther. The impulse to go to St.
James came on her at waking, and she resisted through busy hours of
the day. But the family often had tasks from which Emeline was free,
and when the desire grew unendurable she knelt at her secluded bedside
in the loft, trying to bring order out of her confused thoughts. She
reviewed her quarrel with her lover, and took blame for his desertion.
The grievance which had seemed so great to her before she came to
Beaver Island dwindled, and his personality with it. In self-defence she
coaxed her fancy, pretending that James Arnold was too good for her. It
was well he had found it out. But because he was too good for her she
ought to go on being fond of him at a safe distance, undetected by him,
and discreetly cherishing his large blond image as her ideal of manhood.
If she had not been bred in horror of Catholics, the cloister at this time
would have occurred to her as her only safe refuge.
These secret rites in her bedroom being ended, and Roxy diverted from
her movements, she slipped off into the woods path, sometimes running
breathlessly towards St. James.

The impetus which carried Emeline increased with each journey. At
first she was able to check it in the woods depths, but it finally drove
her until the village houses were in sight.
When this at last happened, and she stood gazing, fascinated, down the
tunnel of forest path, the King of Beaver spoke behind her.
Emeline screamed in terror and took hold of a bush, to make it a
support and a veil.
"Have I been a patient man?" he inquired, standing between her and her
uncle's house. "I waited for you to come to me."
"I am obliged to go somewhere," said Emeline, plucking the leaves and
unsteadily shifting her eyes about his feet. "I cannot stay on the farm all
the time." Through numbness she felt the pricking of a sharp rapture.
The King of Beaver smiled, seeing betrayed in her face the very vertigo
of joy.
[Illustration: You will give yourself to me now 142]
"You will give yourself to me now?" he winningly begged, venturing
out-stretched hands. "You have felt the need as I have? Do you think
the days have been easy to me? When you were on your knees I was on
my knees too. Every day you came in this direction I came as far as I
dared, to meet you. Are the obstacles all passed?"
"No," said Emeline.
He was making her ask herself that most insidious question, "Why
could not the other have been like this?"
"Tell me--can you say, 'I hate you,' now?"
"No," said Emeline.
"I have grown to be a better man since you said you hated me. The
miracle cannot be forced. Next time?" He spoke wistfully.

"No," Emeline answered, holding to the bush. She kept her eyes on the
ground while he talked, and glanced up when she replied. He stood
with his hat off. The flakes of sun touched his head and the fair skin of
his forehead.
He moved towards Emeline, and she retreated around the bush.
Without hesitating he passed, making a