“Kiss me, Columbine,” he demanded.
Through blurred eyes she saw his face, white and rapt, and she bent to it, meeting his lips with her first kiss which was her last.
“Again, Collie—again!” he begged.
“No—no more,” she whispered, very low, and encircling his neck with her arms she hid her face and held him convulsively, and stifled the sobs that shook her.
Then Moore was silent, holding her with his free hand, breathing hard, and slowly quieting down. Columbine felt then that he knew that there was something terribly wrong, and that perhaps he dared not voice his fear. At any rate, he silently held her, waiting. That silent wait grew unendurable for Columbine. She wanted to prolong this moment that was to be all she could ever surrender. But she dared not do so, for she knew if he ever kissed her again her duty to Belllounds would vanish like mist in the sun.
To release her hold upon him seemed like a tearing of her heartstrings. She sat up, she wiped the tears from her eyes, she rose to her feet, all the time striving for strength to face him again.
A loud voice ringing from the cliffs outside, startled Columbine. It came from Wade calling the hounds. He had returned, and the fact stirred her.
“I'm to marry Jack Belllounds on October first.”
The cowboy raised himself up as far as he was able. It was agonizing for Columbine to watch the changing and whitening of his face!
“No—no!” he gasped.
“Yes, it's true,” she replied, hopelessly.
“No!” he exclaimed, hoarsely.
“But, Wilson, I tell you yes. I came to tell you. It's true—oh, it's true!”
“But, girl, you said you love me,” he declared, transfixing her with dark, accusing eyes.
“That's just as terribly true.”
He softened a little, and something of terror and horror took the place of anger.
Just then Wade entered the cabin with his soft tread, hesitated, and then came to Columbine's side. She could not unrivet her gaze from Moore to look at her friend, but she reached out with trembling hand to him. Wade clasped it in a horny palm.
Wilson fought for self-control in vain.
“Collie, if you love me, how can you marry Jack Belllounds?” he demanded.
“I must.”
“Why must you?”
“I owe my life and my bringing up to his father. He wants me to do it. His heart is set upon my helping Jack to become a man.... Dad loves me, and I love him. I must stand by him. I must repay him. It is my duty.”
“You've a duty to yourself—as a woman!” he rejoined, passionately. “Belllounds is wrapped up in his son. He's blind to the shame of such a marriage. But you're not.”
“Shame?” faltered Columbine.
“Yes. The shame of marrying one man when you love another. You can't love two men.... You'll give yourself. You'll be hiswife ! Do you understand what that means?”
“I—I think—I do,” replied Columbine, faintly. Where had vanished all her wonderful spirit? This fire-eyed boy was breaking her heart with his reproach.
“But you'll bear his children,” cried Wilson. “Mother of—them—when you love me!... Didn't you think of that?”
“Oh no—I never did—I never did!” wailed Columbine.
“Then you'll think before it's too late?” he implored, wildly. “Dearest Collie, think! You won't ruin yourself! You won't? Say you won't!”
“But—Oh, Wilson, what can I say? I've got to marry him.”
“Collie, I'll kill him before he gets you.”
“You mustn't talk so. If you fought again—if anything terrible happened, it'd kill me.”
“You'd be better off!” he flashed, white as a sheet.
Columbine leaned against Wade for support. She was fast weakening in strength, although her spirit held. She knew what was inevitable. But Wilson's agony was rending her.
“Listen,” began the cowboy again. “It's your life—your happiness—your soul.... Belllounds is crazy over that spoiled boy. He thinks the sun rises and sets in him.... But Jack Belllounds is no good on this earth! Collie dearest, don't think that's my jealousy. I am horribly jealous. But I know him. He's not worth you! No man is—and he the least. He'll break your heart, drag you down, ruin your health—kill you, as sure as you stand there. I want you to know I could prove to you what he is. But don't make me. Trust me, Collie. Believe me.”
“Wilson, I do believe you,” cried Columbine. “But it doesn't make any difference. It only makes my duty harder.”
“He'll treat you like he treats a horse or a dog. He'll beat you—”
“He never will! If he ever lays a hand on me—”
“If not that, he'll tire of you. Jack Belllounds never stuck to anything in his life, and never will. It's not in him. He wants what he can't have. If he gets it, then right off he doesn't want it. Oh, I've known him since he was a kid.... Columbine, you've a mistaken sense of duty. No girl need sacrifice her all because some man found her a lost baby and gave her a home. A woman owes more to herself than to any one.”
“Oh, that's true, Wilson. I've thought it all.... But you're unjust—hard. You make no allowance for—for some possible good in every one. Dad swears I can reform Jack. Maybe I can. I'll pray for it.”
“Reform Jack Belllounds! How can you save a bad egg? That damned coward! Didn't he prove to you what he was when he jumped on me and kicked my broken foot till I fainted?... What do you want?”
“Don't say any more—please,” cried Columbine. “Oh, I'm so sorry.... I oughtn't have come.... Ben, take me home.”
“But, Collie, I love you,” frantically urged Wilson. “And he—he may love you—but he's—Collie—he's been—”
Here Moore seemed to bite his tongue, to hold back speech, to fight something terrible and desperate and cowardly in himself.
Columbine heard only his impassioned declaration of love, and to that she vibrated.
“You speak as if this was one—sided,” she burst out, as once more the gush of hot blood surged over her. “You don't love me any more than I love you. Not as much, for I'm a woman!... I love with all my heart and soul!”
Moore fell back upon the bed, spent and overcome.
“Wade, my friend, for God's sake do something,” he whispered, appealing to the hunter as if in a last hope. “Tell Collie what it'll mean for her to marry Belllounds. If that doesn't change her, then tell her what it'll mean to me. I'll never go home. I'll never leave here. If she hadn't told me she loved me then, I might have stood anything. But now I can't. It'll kill me, Wade.”
“Boy, you're talkin' flighty again,” replied Wade. “This mornin' when I come you were dreamin' an' talkin'—clean out of your head.... Well, now, you an' Collie listen. You're right an' she's right. I reckon I never run across a deal with two people fixed just like you. But that doesn't hinder me from feelin' the same about it as I'd feel about somethin' I was used to.”