Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 13, 1923 — page 152: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

614 forth brutally. North. label he’s a saint. trader he’s a scoundrel.” “ Don’t!” she begged. “ Don’t say that. It’s not true, not down at the bottom. I didn’t come here to trick you, I don’t know why I came. [I hardly knew I had come. L.only wanted—” She had spoken with great difficulty and at last her voice trailed off. “Go on,” Alan prompted roughly. ‘““ It was my fault,” she burst forth. “TI know I made you fight us. I tried to de- ceive myself. I kept telling myself that I hated you. J-—” “Go on,” he repeated when she paused. ““T was beaten. I was wild with fear. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t go to Macleod. He believes the worst.” 3 Alan felt his heart thudding against his ribs and crowding up into-his throat. He suddenly realized that the moment for which he had waited ever since Mrs. Ash- down’s tea was at hand and that he must be strong to wait for it. “Say it!” he cried. “Say it! Your father was helpless. Macleod was implaca- bie. So you came to me. You came be- cause— Goon! Tell me-why you came.” His sense of power rose above all else. He knew he must force her to admit his dominance, that he must not waver. He even exulted when he saw her spirit flare in revolt. Her head went up. Her eyes flashed. Her very attitude defied him. He saw the struggle, her last desperate at- tempt to defy him, the first wavering, and then suddenly a strange and intangible change came over her. A new expression dawned in her eyes. It was like a sunrise, growing gradually from soft suggestion to a blazing, enveloping flood. “{ didn’t know why I came,” she said softly. “I didn’t understand, even after I got here. But now I know.” She held out both her hands. Her eyes were warm, warm as Alan had never dreamed they could be, and with a bril- liance he found dazziing. “Good God!” he whispered huskily. All the fight had gone out of him, all the desire for dominance. His victory brought “If. he wears a Great If he’s a free \ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. no fierce exultation, only an overpowering tenderness. He did not even remember that he had demanded submission. Some- thing prompted him to grasp the extended hands and draw her closer. Then his arms were around her. In that. moment of pure emotion every- thing was forgotten. At last Helen wrenched herself free. “Not now!” she cried. ‘ There’s father! Alan, you must do something. You can!” There. was the faith, the confidence, the dependence he had sought. “T will!” he — “Tl do it to- night. I’ll surprise Macleod, hold him here and give both of you a big start for the rail- road and the States.” “No! Nol” she protested. “ Not that way! He never did this. I know it. You must prove he didn’t.” He looked at her searchingly and then asked: “You're certain of this? How?” “In the same way I’m positive you didn’t do it.” He sprang forward and again took her in his arms. She did not try to get @way, but looked up at him. “And I know now I have always been sure of you,” she added. ‘“ Only I didn’t know it before, wouldn’t admit it. It is why I came.to you to-day, only when I got here I was bewildered and uncertain. That is why I accused you. I couldn’t think of anything else to say and, then, something, drove me to it. I didn’t want to admit— to admit this, Alan.” Tt was the final surrender, an admission of his strength, but he failed utterly to feel that fierce joy of victory he had long antici- pated. He only knew that the spirit he had hoped to crush was not the defiant thing he had believed it to be, that it had been only a mask in front of the real Helen, the adorable, dependent creature now in his arms. His own strong spirit responded to the call of this’ distressed soul. ‘The very plea to his strength had intensified it and sud- denly he felt competent to meet any situa- tion. “Don’t worry,” he whispered huskily. “ We're going to do it because we must.” CORMICLOO© (E@)