"And turned himself out of his only shelter to give me a roof and covering,"she continued mechanically,struggling with the new and horrible fancy that his words awakened.
"And thlept every night at Indian Thpring to save your reputation,"said Curson."Of courthe."
Teresa turned very white.Curson was prepared for an outburst of fury--perhaps even another attack.But the crushed and beaten woman only gazed at him with frightened and imploring eyes."For God's sake,****,don't say that!"The amiable cynic was staggered.His good-humor and a certain chivalrous instinct he could not repress got the better of him.
He shrugged his shoulders."What I thay,and what you DO,Teretha,needn't make us quarrel.I've no claim on you--I know it.Only--"a vivid sense of the ridiculous,powerful in men of his stamp,completed her victory--"only don't thay anything about my coming down here to cut you out from the--the--THE SHERIFF."He gave utterance to a short but unaffected laugh,made a slight grimace,and turned to go.
Teresa did not join in his mirth.Awkward as it would have been if he had taken a severer view of the subject,she was mortified even amidst her fears and embarrassment at his levity.Just as she had become convinced that his jealousy had made her over-conscious,his apparent good-humored indifference gave that over-consciousness a guilty significance.Yet this was lost in her sudden alarm as her companion,looking up,uttered an exclamation,and placed his hand upon his revolver.With a sinking conviction that the climax had come,Teresa turned her eyes.From the dim aisles beyond,Low was approaching.The catastrophe seemed complete.
She had barely time to utter an imploring whisper:"In the name of God,not a word to him."But a change had already come over her companion.It was no longer a parley with a foolish woman;he had to deal with a man like himself.As Low's dark face and picturesque figure came nearer,Mr.Curson's proposed method of dealing with him was made audible.
"Ith it a mulatto or a Thircuth,or both?"he asked,with affected anxiety.
Low's Indian phlegm was impervious to such assault.He turned to Teresa,without apparently noticing her companion."I turned back,"he said quietly,"as soon as I knew there were strangers here;I thought you might need me."She noticed for the first time that,in addition to his rifle,he carried a revolver and hunting knife in his belt.
"Yeth,"returned Curson,with an ineffectual attempt to imitate Low's phlegm;"but ath I didn't happen to be a sthranger to this lady,perhaps it wathn't nethethary,particularly ath I had two friends--""Waiting at the edge of the wood with a led horse,"interrupted Low,without addressing him,but apparently continuing his explanation to Teresa.But she turned to Low with feverish anxiety.
"That's so--he is an old friend--"she gave a quick,imploring glance at Curson--"an old friend who came to help me away--he is very kind,"she stammered,turning alternately from the one to the other;"but I told him there was no hurry--at least to-day--that you--were--very good--too,and would hide me a little longer,until your plan--you know YOUR plan,"she added,with a look of beseeching significance to Low--"could be tried."And then,with a helpless conviction that her excuses,motives,and emotions were equally and perfectly transparent to both men,she stopped in a tremble.
"Perhapth it 'th jutht ath well,then,that the gentleman came thtraight here,and didn't tackle my two friendth when he pathed them,"observed Curson,half sarcastically.
"I have not passed your friends,nor have I been near them,"said Low,looking at him for the first time,with the same exasperating calm,"or perhaps I should not be HERE or they THERE.I knew that one man entered the wood a few moments ago,and that two men and four horses remained outside.""That's true,"said Teresa to Curson excitedly--"that's true.He knows all.He can see without looking,hear without listening.
He--he--"she stammered,colored,and stopped.
The two men had faced each other.Curson,after his first good-natured impulse,had retained no wish to regain Teresa,whom he felt he no longer loved,and yet who,for that very reason perhaps,had awakened his chivalrous instincts.Low,equally on his side,was altogether unconscious of any feeling which might grow into a passion,and prevent him from letting her go with another if for her own safety.They were both men of a certain taste and refinement.Yet,in spite of all this,some vague instinct of the baser male animal remained with them,and they were moved to a mutually aggressive attitude in the presence of the female.
One word more,and the opening chapter of a sylvan Iliad might have begun.But this modern Helen saw it coming,and arrested it with an inspiration of feminine genius.Without being observed,she disengaged her knife from her bosom and let it fall as if by accident.It struck the ground with the point of its keen blade,bounded and rolled between them.The two men started and looked at each other with a foolish air.Curson laughed.
"I reckon she can take care of herthelf,"he said,extending his hand to Low."I'm off.But if I'm wanted SHE'LL know where to find me."Low took the proffered hand,but neither of the two men looked at Teresa.The reserve of antagonism once broken,a few words of caution,advice,and encouragement passed between them,in apparent obliviousness of her presence or her personal responsibility.As Curson at last nodded a farewell to her,Low insisted upon accompanying him as far as the horses,and in another moment she was again alone.