Across her brain there flashed a fugitive memory of three words Jeff had spoken to his cousin the day of the accident. "It's your father."But how could that be? She had always understood that both the parents of James were dead. The lawyer had denied knowing the man whose life he had saved. And yet she had been sure of the words and of a furtive, frightened look on the face of James. According to the story of the_Herald_ the father of Jefferson, a former convict, was named Robert. But once, when she had made some allusion to it Captain Chunn had exploded into vigorous denial. It was a puzzle the meaning of which she could not guess.
"He has several times mentioned his wish to thank you for your kindness," Jeff mentioned.
"I'll be glad to meet him." Swiftly she flashed a question at him. "Is he James Farnum's father?""Haven't you read the papers? He is said to be mine.""But he isn't. He isn't. I see it now. James was ashamed to acknowledge a father who had been in prison. Your enemies made a mistake and you let it go.""It's all long since past. I wouldn't say anything about it to anybody." "Of course you wouldn't," she scoffed. Her eyes were very bright. Shewanted to laugh and to weep at her discovery.
"You see it didn't matter with my friends. And my reputation was beyond hope anyhow. It was different with James."She nodded. "Yes. It wouldn't have improved his chances with Valencia," her cousin admitted.
Jeff permitted himself a smile. "My impression was that he did not have Mrs. Van Tyle in mind at the time."They had waded through the wet ferns to the edge of the woods. As her eyes swept the russet valley through which they had passed Alice drew a deep breath of pleasure. How good it was to be alive in such a world of beauty! A meadow lark throbbed its three notes at her joyfully toemphasize their kinship. An English pheasant strutted across the path and disappeared into the ferns. Neither the man nor the woman spoke. All the glad day called them to the emotional climax toward which they were racing.
Womanlike, Alice attempted to evade what she most desired. He was to be her mate. She knew it now. But the fear of him was in her heart.
"Were you so fond of him? Is that why you did it for him?" she asked. "I didn't do it for him.""For whom then?"
He did not answer. Nor did his eyes meet hers. They were fixed on the moving ferns where the pheasant had disappeared.
Alice guessed. He had done it for the girl because he thought her in love with his cousin. A warm glow suffused her. No man made such a sacrifice for a woman unless he cared for her.
The meadow lark flung out another carefree ecstasy. The theme of it was the triumphant certainty that love is the greatest thing in the world. Jeff felt that it was now or never.
"I love you. It's been hidden in my heart more than eight years, but I find I must tell you. All the arguments against it I've rehearsed a thousand times. The world is at your feet. You could never love a man like me. To your friends I'm a bad lot. They never would consider me a moment."Gently she interrupted. "Is it my friends you want to marry?"The surprise of it took him by the throat. His astonished eyes questioned for a denial. In that moment a wonderful secret was born into the world. She held out both hands with a divine frankness, a sweetness of surrender beyond words.
"But your father--your people!"
"'Where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people."' She murmured it with a broken little laugh that was a sob.
Even then he did not take her in his arms. The habit of reverence for her was of many years' growth and not to be broken in an instant.
"You are sure, dear--quite sure?"
"I'vebeensureeversincethedayofourfirsttalkonthe_Bellingham._"
Still he fought the joy that flooded him. "I must tell you the truth so that you won't idealize me . . . and the situation. I am enlisted in this fight for life. Where it will lead me I don't know. But I must follow the road I see. You will lose your friends. They will think me a crank, an enemy to society; and they will think you demented. But even for you I can't turn back."A tender glow was in her deep eyes. "If I did not know that do you think I would marry you?""But you've always had the best things. You've never known what it is to be poor.""No, I've never had the best things, never till I knew you, dear. I've starved for them and did not know how to escape the prison I was in. Then you came . . . and you showed me. The world is at my feet now. Not the world you meant, of idleness and luxury and ennui . . . but that better one of the spirit where you and I shall walk together as comrades of all who work and laugh and weep.""If I could be sure!" "Of me, Jeff?"
"That I can make you happy. After all it's a chance.""We all live on a chance. I'll take mine beside the man I love. There is one way under heaven by which men may be saved. I'm going to walk that way with you, dear."Jeff threw away the reins of a worldly wise prudence.
"For ever and ever, Alice," he cried softly, shaken to his soul. As their lips met the lark throbbed a betrothal song.
They went slowly through the wet ferns, hand in hand. It was amazingly true that he had won her, but Jeff could scarce believe the miracle. More than once he recurred to it.
"You saw what no other young woman of your set in Verden did, the human in me through my vagabondage. But why? There's nothing in my appearance to attract.""Valiant in velvet, light in ragged luck," she laughed. "And I won't have you questioning my taste, sir. I've always thought you very good-looking, if you must have it."
"If you're as far gone as that!" His low laughter rang out to meet hers, for no reason except the best of reasons--that they walked alone with love through a world wonderful.
