And even this blow did not tell.
“And then he defied the sheriff, went back to the town, and broke into a bank and stole fifty thousand dollars.”
The smile wavered and went out, but still the dull eyes of Elizabeth were steady enough. Though perhaps that dullness was from pain. And Kate, waiting eagerly, was chagrined to see that she had not broken through to any softness of emotion. One sign of grief and trembling was all she wanted before she made her appeal; but there was no weakness in Elizabeth Cornish, it seemed.
“You see I am listening,” she said gravely and almost gently. “Although I am really not well. And I hardly see the point of this long recital of crimes. It was because I foresaw what he would become that I sent him away.”
“Miss Cornish, why'd you take him in in the first place?”
“It's a long story,” said Elizabeth.
“I'm a pretty good listener,” said Kate.
Elizabeth Cornish looked away, as though she hesitated to touch on the subject, or as though it were too unimportant to be referred to at length.
“In brief, I saw from a hotel window Black Jack, his father, shot down in the street; heard about the infant son he left, and adopted the child—on a bet with my brother. To see if blood would tell or if I could make him a fine man.”
She paused.
“My brother won the bet!”
And her smile was a wonderful thing, so perfectly did it mask her pain.
“And, of course, I sent Terry away. I have forgotten him, really. Just a bad experiment.”
Kate Pollard flushed.
“You'll never forget him,” she said firmly. “You think of him every day!”
The elder woman started and looked sharply at her visitor. Then she dismissed the idea with a shrug.
“That's absurd. Why should I think of him?”
There is a spirit of prophecy in most women, old or young; and especially they have a way of looking through the flesh of their kind and seeing the heart. Kate Pollard came a little closer to her hostess.
“You saw Black Jack die in the street,” she queried, “fighting for his life?”
Elizabeth dreamed into the vague distance.
“Riding down the street with his hair blowing—long black hair, you know,” she reminisced. “And holding the crowd back as one would hold back a crowd of curs. Then—he was shot from the side by a man in concealment. That was how he fell!”
“I knew,” murmured the girl, nodding. “Miss Cornish, I know now why you took in Terry.”
“Ah?”
“Not because of a bet—but because you—you loved Black Jack Hollis!”
It brought an indrawn gasp from Elizabeth. Rather of horror than surprise. But the girl went on steadily:
“I know. You saw him with his hair blowing, fighting his way—he rode into your heart. I know, I tell you! Maybe you've never guessed it all these years. But has a single day gone when you haven't thought of the picture?”
The scornful, indignant denial died on the lips of Elizabeth Cornish. She stared at Kate as though she were seeing a ghost.
“Not one day!” cried Kate. “And so you took in Terry, and you raised him and loved him—not for a bet, but because he was Black Jack's son!”
Elizabeth Cornish had grown paler than before. “I mustn't listen to such talk,” she said.
“Ah,” cried the girl, “don't you see that I have a right to talk? Because I love him also, and I know that you love him, too.”
Elizabeth Cornish came to her feet, and there was a faint flush in her cheeks.
“You love Terry? Ah, I see. And he has sent you!”
“He'd die sooner than send me to you.”
“And yet—you came?”
“Don't you see?” pleaded Kate. “He's in a corner. He's about to go—bad!”
“Miss Pollard, how do you know these things?”
“Because I'm the daughter of the leader of the gang!”
She said it without shame, proudly.
“I've tried to keep him from the life he intends leading,” said Kate. “I can't turn him. He laughs at me. I'm nothing to him, you see? And he loves the new life. He loves the freedom. Besides, he thinks that there's no hope. That he has to be what his father was before him. Do you know why he thinks that? Because you turned him out. You thought he would turn bad. And he respects you. He still turns to you. Ah, if you could hear him speak of you! He loves you still!”
