Part 10 (1/2)
”I know you take but a small percentage of what you give. Shall I tell my story now?”
”I think I know it--or some of it, at least,” replied Mrs. Kingdon, looking at her intently.
Pen looked up with a startled gesture.
”You do! How--”
”When I was in your room just before dinner, it came to me where I had seen you before. It was about a year ago--in San Francisco--in a police station. I made inquiries; was interested in you and tried to see you, but we were suddenly called home. I should like to hear more about your life and what brought you to these hills.”
”I wish no one else need know it,” she said entreatingly, when she had told her story in detail.
”Kurt is surely ent.i.tled to know it _all_,” replied Mrs. Kingdon.
”I suppose he is; though I wish he didn't know as much as he already does.
It isn't necessary to tell him to-night, is it? I am still tired in spite of my long rest.”
”To-morrow will do. If you like, I will tell him, and I wish you and he would leave the entire matter--about Jo and all--in my hands.”
”Most gladly,” a.s.sented Pen. ”But where is Jo?”
”He is on a neighboring ranch--temporarily, only.”
”There is something else I should like to know. Why is Kurt so different from most men? Doesn't he ever look pleasant, or was his gloom all on my account?”
”His life hasn't been exactly conducive to jollity. He was born in New England and brought up on pie and Presbyterianism by a spinstered aunt who didn't understand boys. He ran away and came to the West. He has been cattle-herder, cowboy and everything else typical of the hill country. We came here, tenderfooted, and were most fortunate in finding a foreman like Kurt Walters. He has a wonderful way of handling men. He is of good habits, forceful, keen; very gentle to old people and most adorable with children. We make him one of our household. There is the fortunate flaw that keeps him from being super-excellent; he is not merciful to wrongdoers and, as you say, he is too serious--almost moody. That is accounted for by the long night vigils of the cattlemen. They get a habit of inhibition that they never lose. I think the men find him very good company at times. There is one splendid thing about him. In spite of his rough life and the many years in which he has had opportunity to meet only the--misguided kind of women, he has never lost faith in his ideals of womanhood.”
”I certainly rubbed him the wrong way,” said Pen comprehendingly. ”He looked upon me as if there were no place on his map for my kind, and yet he struggled hard to be good to me when I was suffering from cold and hunger. I never met his sort of a man before. The men I have been thrown with think goodness stupid. No matter what crime a girl commits, providing she is attractive in any way, they applaud and call her a 'little devil.'”
”He talked of you a great deal to-day, and about your chances for reformation.”
Pen smiled enigmatically.
”He said he would have felt more sympathy for me if I had not been educated and knew the enormity of my sins. If he knew more of the world, he would know that the intelligent criminal has the least chance to reform. When he took me so unexpectedly from Bender, I wanted to see what he was going to do with me. When I found he was bringing me out here, I could have easily given him the slip and escaped, but I was curious to see the 'best woman in the world.' I never had faith in a man's estimate of a woman, but as soon as I saw you, I knew he was right. May I stay? Will you really let me?”
”I quite insist upon your staying. We will go downstairs for a little while now.”
Below, Mrs. Kingdon lingered to give some directions to a servant and Pen went on to the library.
Kurt was standing there alone. She stood small and straight before her warden, looking squarely into his eyes.
”You needn't,” she said, ”put any locks on valuables here--not on my account. The crookedest crook in the world wouldn't steal from _her_.”
”I am glad you recognize a true woman,” he said earnestly.
”Thank you for bringing me here. I feel it's the turning point in my life.”
”Then,” he said earnestly, ”I feel I have done something worth while. You shall not leave here until--you see I am speaking plainly--you have overcome all desire to steal.”