a familiar manner by this stranger, who had already grievously offended her
once before that day, Betty stood
perfectly still a moment,
speechless with
surprise, then she stepped quickly out of the shadow.
Clarke turned as he heard her step and looked straight into a pair of dark,
scornful eyes and a face pale with anger.
"If it be necessary that you use my name, and I do not see how that can be
possible, will you please have
courtesy enough to say Miss Zane?" she cried
haughtily.
Lydia recovered her
composuresufficiently to
falter out:
"Betty, allow me to introduce--"
"Do not trouble yourself, Lydia. I have met this person once before to-day,
and I do not care for an introduction."
When Alfred found himself gazing into the face that had
haunted him all the
afternoon, he forgot for the moment all about his
errand. He was finally
brought to a
realization of the true state of affairs by Lydia's words.
"Mr. Clarke, you are all wet. What has happened?" she exclaimed, noticing the
water dripping from his garments.
Suddenly a light broke in on Alfred. So the girl he had accosted on the road
and "Betty" were one and the same person. His face flushed. He felt that his
rudeness on that occasion may have merited
censure, but that it had not
justified the
humiliation she had put upon him.
These two persons, so
strangely brought together, and on whom Fate had made
her inscrutable designs, looked
steadily into each other's eyes. What
mysterious force thrilled through Alfred Clarke and made Betty Zane tremble?
"Miss Boggs, I am twice unfortunate," said Alfred, tuning to Lydia, and there
was an
earnest ring in his deep voice "This time I am indeed
blameless. I have
just left Colonel Zane's house, where there has been an accident, and I was
dispatched to find 'Betty,' being entirely
ignorant as to who she might be.
Colonel Zane did not stop to explain. Miss Zane is needed at the house, that
is all."
And without so much as a glance at Betty he bowed low to Lydia and then strode
out of the open door.
"What did he say?" asked Betty, in a small trembling voice, all her anger and
resentment vanished.
"There has been an accident. He did not say what or to whom. You must hurry
home. Oh, Betty, I hope no one hat been hurt! And you were very
unkind to Mr.
Clarke. I am sure he is a gentleman, and you might have waited a moment to
learn what he meant."
Betty did not answer, but flew out of the door and down the path to the gate
of the fort. She was almost
breathless when she reached Colonel Zane's house,
and hesitated on the step before entering. Summoning her courage she pushed
open the door. The first thing that struck her after the bright light was the
pungent odor of strong liniment. She saw several women neighbors whispering
together. Major McColloch and Jonathan Zane were
standing by a couch over
which Mrs. Zane was bending. Colonel Zane sat at the foot of the couch. Betty
saw this in the first rapid glance, and then, as the Colonel's wife moved
aside, she saw a
prostrate figure, a white face and dark eyes that smiled at
her.
"Betty," came in a low voice from those pale lips.
Her heart leaped and then seemed to cease
beating. Many long years had passed
since she had heard that voice, but it had never been forgotten. It was the
best
beloved voice of her
childhood, and with it came the sweet memories of
her brother and
playmate. With a cry of joy she fell on her knees beside him
and threw her arms around his neck.
"Oh, Isaac, brother, brother!" she cried, as she kissed him again and again.
"Can it really be you? Oh, it is too good to be true! Thank God! I have prayed
and prayed that you would be restored to us."
Then she began to cry and laugh at the same time in that strange way in which
a woman relieves a heart too full of joy. "Yes, Betty. It is all that is left
of me," he said,
running his hand caressingly over the dark head that lay on
his breast.
"Betty, you must not
excite him," said Colonel Zane.
"So you have not forgotten me?" whispered Isaac.
"No, indeed, Isaac. I have never forgotten," answered Betty,
softly. "Only
last night I spoke of you and wondered if you were living. And now you are
here. Oh, I am so happy!" The quivering lips and the dark eyes bright with
tears spoke eloquently of her joy.
"Major will you tell Captain Boggs to come over after supper? Isaac will be
able to talk a little by then, and he has some news of the Indians," said
Colonel Zane.
"And ask the young man who saved my life to come that I may thank him," said
Isaac.
"Saved your life?" exclaimed Betty, turning to her brother, in surprise, while
a dark red flush spread over her face. A humiliating thought had flashed into
her mind.
"Saved his life, of course," said Colonel Zane, answering for Isaac. "Young
Clarke pulled him out of the river. Didn't he tell you?"
"No," said Betty, rather faintly.
"Well, he is a
modest young fellow. He saved Isaac's life, there is no doubt
of that. You will hear all about it after supper. Don't make Isaac talk any
more at present."
Betty hid her face on Isaac's shoulder and remained quiet a few moments; then,
rising, she kissed his cheek and went quietly to her room. Once there she
threw herself on the bed and tried to think. The events of the day, coming
after a long string of
monotonous, wearying days, had been confusing; they had
succeeded one another in such rapid order as to leave no time for reflection.
The meeting by the river with the rude but interesting stranger; the shock to
her
dignity; Lydia's kindly advice; the stranger again, this time emerging
from the dark depths of
disgrace into the
luminous light as the hero of her
brother's rescue--all these thoughts jumbled in her mind making it difficult
for her to think clearly. But after a time one thing forced itself upon her.
She could not help being
conscious that she had wronged some one to whom she
would be forever
indebted. Nothing could alter that. She was under an eternal
obligation to the man who had saved the life she loved best on earth. She had
unjustly scorned and insulted the man to whom she owed the life of her
brother.
Betty was
passionate and quick-tempered, but she was
generous and
tender-hearted as well, and when she realized how
unkind and cruel she kind
been she felt very
miserable. Her position admitted of no
retreat. No matter
how much pride rebelled; no matter how much she disliked to retract anything
she had said, she knew no other course lay open to her. She would have to
apologize to Mr. Clarke. How could she? What would she say? She remembered how
cold and stern his face had been as he turned from her to Lydia. Perplexed and
unhappy, Betty did what any girl in her position would have done: she resorted
to the consoling and unfailing
privilege of her sex--a good cry.
When she became
composed again she got up and bathed her hot cheeks, brushed
her hair, and changed her gown for a becoming one of white. She tied a red
ribbon about her
throat and put a rosette in her hair. She had forgotten all
about the Indians. By the time Mrs. Zane called her for supper she had her
mind made up to ask Mr. Clarke's
pardon, tell him she was sorry, and that she
hoped they might be friends.
Isaac Zane's fame had spread from the Potomac to Detroit and Louisville. Many
an
anxious mother on the border used the story of his
captivity as a means to
frighten
truant youngsters who had evinced a love for
running wild in the
woods. The evening of Isaac's return every one in the settlement called to
welcome home the
wanderer. In spite of the troubled times and the dark cloud
hanging over them they made the occasion one of rejoicing.
Old John Bennet, the biggest and merriest man in the colony, came in and
roared his
appreciation of Isaac's return. He was a huge man, and when he
stalked into the room he made the floor shake with his heavy tread. His honest
face expressed his pleasure as he stood over Isaac and nearly crushed his
hand.
"Glad to see you, Isaac. Always knew you would come back. Always said so.
There are not enough damn redskins on the river to keep you prisoner."