"Tell me," he said, and his tone was very tender.
The girl turned to him. She rested an arm on his bent knee and looked up into his face. There was no longer any hesitation or doubt. She was pale under the warm tanning of her cheeks, but she was very pretty, and, to Dave, wildly seductive as she thus appealed to him.
"Oh, Dave, I must tell you all. You are my only real friend. You, I know, will understand, and can help me. If I went to uncle, good and kind as he is, I feel he would not understand. And auntie, she is so matter-of-fact and practical. But you – you are different from anybody else."
The man nodded.
"I have loved Jim for so long," she went on hurriedly. "Long – long before he ever even noticed me. To me he has always been everything a man should and could be. You see, he is so kind and thoughtful, so brave, so masterful, so – so handsome, with just that dash of recklessness which makes him so fascinating to a girl. I have watched him pay attention to other girls, and night after night I have cried myself to sleep about it. Dave, you have never known what it is to love anybody, so all this may seem silly to you, but I only want to show you how much I have always cared for Jim. Well, after a long time he began to take notice of me. I remember it so well," she went on, with a far-away look in her eyes. "It was a year ago, at our Church Social. He spent a lot of time with me there, and gave me a box of candy, and then asked permission to see me home. Dave, from that moment I was in a seventh heaven of happiness. Every day I have felt and hoped that he would ask me to be his wife. I have longed for it, prayed for it, dreaded it, and lived in a dream of happiness. And now he has asked me."
She turned away to the bustling stream. Her eyes had become pathetically sad.
"And – " Dave prompted her.
"Oh, I don't know." She shook her head a little helplessly. "It all seems different now."
"Different?"
"Yes, that wildly happy feeling has gone."
"You are – unhappy?"
The man's voice shook as he put his question.
"It isn't that. I'm happy enough, I suppose. Only – only – I think I'm frightened now, or something. All my dreams seem to have tumbled about my ears. I have no longer that wonderful looking forward. Is it because he is mine now, and no one can take him from me? Or is it," her voice dropped to an awed whisper, "that – I – don't – "
She broke off as though afraid to say all she feared. Dave lit his pipe and smoked slowly and thoughtfully. He had gone through his ordeal listening to her, and now felt that he could face anything without giving his own secret away. He must reassure her. He must remove the doubt in her mind, for, in his quiet, reasoning way, he told himself that all her future happiness was at stake.
"No, it's not that, Betty," he said earnestly. "It's not that you love him less. It's just that for all that year you've thought and thought and hoped about it – till there's nothing more to it," he added lamely. "You see, it's the same with all things. Realization is nothing. It's all in the anticipation. You wait, little girl. When things are fixed, and Parson Tom has said 'right,' you'll – why, you'll just be the happiest little bit of a girl in Malkern. That's sure."
Betty lifted her eyes to his ugly face and looked straight into the kindly eyes. Just for one impulsive moment she reached out and took hold of his knotty hand and squeezed it.
"Dave, you are the dearest man in the world. You are the kindest and best," she cried with unusual emotion. "I wonder – " and she turned away to hide the tears that had suddenly welled up into her troubled eyes.
But Dave had seen them, and he dared not trust himself to speak. He sat desperately still and sucked at his pipe, emitting great clouds of smoke till the pungent fumes bit his tongue.
Then relief came from an unexpected quarter. There was a sharp crackling of bush just above where they sat and the scrunch of crushing pine cones trodden under foot, and Jim Truscott stepped on to the bridge.
"Ah, here you are at last. My word, but I had a job to find you."
His tone was light and easy, but his usually smiling face was clouded. Betty sprang to her feet.
"What is it, Jim?" she demanded, searching his face. "Something is wrong. I know it is."
Jim seated himself directly in front of Dave, who now watched him with added interest. He now noticed several things in the boy he did not remember having observed before. The face in repose, or rather without the smile it usually wore, bore signs of weakness about the mouth. The whole of the lower part of it lacked the imprint of keen decision. There was something almost effeminate about the mould of his full lips, something soft and yielding – even vicious. The rest of his face was good, and even intellectual. He was particularly handsome, with crisp curling hair of a light brown that closely matched his large expressive eyes. His tall athletic figure was strangely at variance with the intellectual cast of his face and head. But what Dave most noticed were the distinct lines of dissipation about his eyes. And he wondered how it was he had never seen them before. Perhaps it was that he so rarely saw Jim without his cheery smile. Perhaps, now that Betty had told him what had taken place, his observation was closer, keener.
"What is it, Jim?" He added his voice to Betty's inquiry. Jim's face became gloomier. He turned to the girl, who had resumed her seat at Dave's side.
"Have you told him?" he asked, and for a moment his eyes brightened with a shadow of their old smile.
The girl nodded, and Dave answered for her.
"She's told me enough to know you're the luckiest fellow in the Red Sand Valley," he said kindly.
Jim glanced up into the girl's face with all the passion of his youthful heart shining in his handsome eyes.
"Yes, I am, Dave – in that way," he said. Then his smile faded out and was replaced by a brooding frown. "But all the luck hasn't come my way. I've talked to Parson Tom."
"Ah!" Dave's ejaculation was ominous.
Suddenly Jim exploded, half angrily, half pettishly, like a disappointed schoolboy.
"Betty, I've got to go away. Your uncle says so. He asked me all about my mill, what my profits were, and all that. I told him honestly. I know I'm not doing too well. He said I wasn't making enough to keep a nigger servant on. He told me that until I could show him an income of $2,500 a year there was to be no talk of engagement. What is more, he said he couldn't have me philandering about after you until there was a reasonable prospect of that income. We talked and argued, but he was firm. And in the end he advised me, if I were really in earnest and serious, to go right away, take what capital I had, and select a new and rising country to start in. He pointed out that there was not room enough here for two in the lumbering business; that Dave, here, complained of the state of trade, so what chance could I possibly have without a tithe of his resources. Finally, he told me to go and think out a plan, talk it over with you, and then tell him what I had decided upon. So here I am, and – "
"So am I," added Betty.
"And as I am here as well," put in Dave, "let's talk it over now. Where are you thinking of going?"
"Seems to me the Yukon is the place. There's a big rush going on. There's great talk of fabulous fortunes there."
"Yes, fabulous," said Dave dryly. "It's a long way. A big fare. You'll find yourself amongst all the scum and blacklegs of this continent. You'll be up against every proposition known to the crook. You'll get tainted. Why not do some ranching? Somewhere around here, toward Edmonton."
Jim shook his head gloomily.
"I haven't nearly enough capital."
"Maybe I could manage it for you," said Dave thoughtfully. "I mean it as a business proposition," he added hastily.
Jim's face cleared, and his ready smile broke out like sunshine after a summer storm.
"Would