"You're in luck. He had good cause to break your neck," commented Mr. Leslie.

"Herbert!" reproved Mrs. Gantry, greatly shocked.

"Papa! Papa!" urged Genevieve, running to grasp her father's arm. "You can't believe him! If Tom said the bridge was in danger—We stand here doing nothing! Send some one! If the bridge should fall—"

"Fall?" sneered Ashton. "I tell you it's safe, safe as a rock. Look for yourselves. It's still standing."

"Then he has saved it," snapped Mr. Leslie. "He's saved my bridge—his bridge! While you, you skulking thief—"

Ashton cringed back as if struck. But Genevieve dragged her father about from him. "Don't mind him, papa! What does that matter now? Send some one at once!"

"They're all out on the bridge already," he replied. "There's no one to send. Wait! I'll go myself!"

"Oh! Oh! The train has started on shore again—it's coming clear off the bridge!" cried Dolores. "It stopped part way, near this end. They'll be on it, they'll surely be on it. Yes, yes! There he is! There's Jimmy!"

She flung up a window-sash and leaned far out, waving her handkerchief. Her mother turned to Genevieve, who stood as if dazed.

"My dear," she said, "do you not understand? Lord James is safe—quite safe!"

"Yes?" replied Genevieve vaguely.

"And Blake!" exclaimed Mr. Leslie. "He'll of course be coming, too. I'm going to meet him—learn the truth."

He cast a threatening glance at Ashton, and went out like a shot.

"Uncle Herbert, take me with you!" called Dolores, flying out after him.

"Blake!—coming here!" gasped Ashton. He ran to place himself before Genevieve, who was about to go out. "Wait, wait, Miss Genevieve, please! Save me! He—he said he'd smash me if I talked—he did! He did! Don't let him hurt me! He threatened to kill me—it's true— true!"

"Threatened to kill you?" repeated Mrs. Gantry. "Genevieve, call back your father. If the man really is violent, as Lafayette says—"

"Aunt Amice!" remonstrated Genevieve. "Can you believe this miserable creature for an instant?"

"But it's true—it is true!" gasped Ashton.

"Mrs. Gantry, dear, dear Mrs. Gantry, you'll believe me! He will kill me! Take me aboard the car! Please, please take me aboard the car and hide me!"

"My dear Genevieve," said Mrs. Gantry, "the poor boy is really terrified."

"Take him to the car, if you wish," replied Genevieve. "He can leave it at the junction."

"Oh, thank you, thank you, Miss Genevieve!" stammered Ashton.

But Genevieve went out without looking at him. He followed with Mrs. Gantry, keeping close beside her.



CHAPTER XXXV

THE FUTURE COUNTESS

As the fugitive and his protectress passed out through the verandah and turned away from the bridge toward the car, they were relieved to see that Blake was not yet in sight. Genevieve was hastening out the track to where her father and Dolores and Lord James stood beside the heavily loaded bridge-service train.

Before Genevieve could reach the others, Lord James and Dolores came toward her, and Dolores cried out the joyful news: "It's safe, Vievie!—the bridge is safe now! Mr. Blake will be ashore in a few minutes."

"You're sure, James?" asked Genevieve. "Quite safe?—and he—?"

"Yes, yes, give you my word! Perfectly safe now, he said, and he'll be coming soon. Er—Miss Dolores, there's your mother going back to the car."

"And Laffi with her!"

"Quite true—quite true. I say now—you've left your muff in the office. You'll be chilled—nipping keen wind, this. We'd best go inside while we're waiting."

"Yes," agreed the girl. "Come back in, Vievie."

"No, no, dear. I'll come later. I'll wait here with papa."

"Ah, if you prefer," murmured Lord James. "But you, Miss Dolores— really you should not stand out in this wind."

"Oh, well, if you insist," she acquiesced, with seeming reluctance.

"I do, indeed!" he replied, and he hurried her to the office.

When they entered, he led her to the big drum heating stove in the corner of the room, and went across to the inner door. He opened it, and called a terse order to Ashton's valet. He then closed the door and locked it.

Dolores started to edge toward the outer door. But he was too quick for her. He hastened across and cut off her retreat.

"No, no!" he declared. "You sha'n't run away."

"Run away?" she rejoined, drawing herself up with a strong show of indignation.

"It's—it's the very first opportunity I've had—the first time alone with you all these days," he answered. "I must insist! I—I beg your pardon, but I must find out, really I must! It seemed to me that—that just now you waved to me, from the window."

"To you? But how could I tell, so far off, that Mr. Blake was not on the train?"

"So that was it?" he replied, suddenly dashed. "Very stupid of me— very! Yet—yet—I must say it! Miss Gantry—Dolores, you've insisted on showing me your deepened dislike even since that evening. But you're so sincere, so candid—if only you'll tell me my faults, I'll do anything I possibly can to please you, to win your regard!"

"Ho! so that's it?" she jeered. "Because Vievie threw you over, you think I'll do as second choice—you think I'm waiting to catch you on the rebound."

"You?" he exclaimed. "How could that be? You've always been so frank in showing your dislike for me—how could I think that? But if only I might convince you how desirous I am to—to overcome your antipathy!"

"Lord Avondale," she said, "it is probable that you are laboring under a misconception. I am not an heiress; I am not wealthy. We are barely well-to-do. So, you see—"

"Ah, yes! And you—" he exclaimed, stepping nearer to her—"you, then, shall see that it is yourself alone! If I can but win you! Tell me, now—why is it you dislike me? I'll do anything in my power. Forget I'm my father's son—that I'm English. I must win you! Tell me how I can overcome your dislike!"

Dolores drew back, blushing first scarlet then crimson with blissful confusion. All her ready wit fled from her and left her quivering with the sweet agitation of her love.

"But it's—it's not true, Jimmy!" she whispered. "I don't—I'm not what you think me! I'm not sincere or honest—I'm just a liar! I've been pretending all along. It's not true that I ever disliked you!"

"Not true?" he asked incredulously.

She gave him a glance that answered him far more clearly than words. He started toward her impulsively.

"Dolores!—it can't be!"

She avoided him, in an attempt to delay the inevitable surrender.

"Ware danger, your earlship!" she mocked. "I warn you I'm a designing female. How do you know it's not the coronet I'm after?"

"Dearest!" he exclaimed, and this time he succeeded in capturing the hand that she flung out to fend him off.

"Wait—wait!" she protested. "This is most—ah—indecorous. Think how shocked mamma would be. You haven't even declared your intentions."

"My intentions," he stated, "are to do—this!" He boldly placed his arm about her shoulders, and bent down over her back-tilted head. "My dear Miss Gantry, I have the honor of saluting—the future Countess of Avondale!"

Instead of shrinking—from him, as he half feared, she slipped an arm up about his neck.

With a blissful sigh, she drew back from the kiss, to answer him in a tone of tender mockery: "The Right Honorable the Earl of Avondale is informed that his—ah—salute is received with pleasure."

"Darling!"

"Wait," she teased. "You have it all turned 'round. You've yet to tell me the exact moment when. Vievie took second place."

"My word! How am I to answer that? Really, it's quite impossible to tell. You piqued my interest from the very first."

"But did you still lo—like Vievie when you proposed to her?"

"Er—yes—quite true. That was the day after our arrival from New York, y'know."

"Of course. But I wished to make doubly sure that you were sincere with her. Oh, Jimmy, to think I've got you, after all! I'm so happy!"

He promptly offered another salute, which was not refused.

The sound of quick steps in the vestibule startled them. Dolores sprang away as Genevieve came hurrying in, too agitated to heed her cousin's blushes.

"Oh! I'm so glad you're still here!" she panted. "He's coming ashore. I—I told papa to tell him that—but not that I'm here! I must—I want to—"

"To play puss-in-the-corner with your Tom," rallied Dolores. "Oh, Vievie! who'd have thought it? You've lost your head! Hide over here behind the stove."

Greatly to her surprise, Genevieve instantly ran over and hid herself in the corner behind the big stove. Dolores and Lord James stared at one another. It was the first time that they had ever seen Genevieve flurried.

"Why, Vievie!" exclaimed the girl, "I actually believe you're frightened."

"No, I'm not. It's only that I must have time to—to think."

"Ah," said Lord James, with sympathetic readiness.

"I shall go out and meet him—detain him a bit."

"No, no. It's very kind of you, James. But there's no need. If only you and Dolores will wait and speak with him. I—I wish to hear how his voice sounds—first."

"Well, of all things!" rallied Dolores. "Can't you imagine how it will sound? He'll be hoarse as a crow, after shouting all his heroic orders to save the bridge. Ten to one, he'll have a fine cold, too—out there in this wind. Jimmy says it's really nawsty, y'know, with the beastly zephyrs wafting through the bloomin' steel-work, and the water so deuced far down below—quite a bit awful, don't y'know!"

"Don't tease, dear," begged Genevieve. "But you said 'Jimmy'! Oh, have you really—?"

Her face appeared around the bulge of the stove, flushed with delight. But the sound of a heavy tread in the verandah caused it to disappear on the instant.

Blake came in slowly and with anything but an elated look. It was evident that Mr. Leslie had refrained from rousing his expectations. He stared at Dolores in surprise.

"You, Miss Dolores?"

"What?" she teased. "You surely did not think it would be Vievie, did you?"

"Didn't think—"

"Yes—with Jimmy." She held out her hand to Lord James, who clasped it fondly.

Blake caught the glance that passed between them. His face darkened.

"Her?" he muttered. "Didn't think you were the kind to play fast and loose, Jimmy!"

"Tom! You can't believe that of me!" protested the Englishman. "Couldn't explain matters out there among all your men, y' know, but Genevieve insisted upon terminating our engagement the very morning after. I had said nothing. She had already seen her mistake."

"Mistake?" queried Blake.

"You men are so silly," criticised Dolores, with a mischievous glance toward the stove. "You ought to 've known she loved you, all the time. Of course you won't believe it till she herself tells you."

Blake looked about the room. Genevieve was close behind the stove. He shook his head and muttered despondently: "Till she tells me!"

"Did you ever play puss-in-the-corner?" asked Dolores.

"You witch!" exclaimed Lord James. To divert her attention, he drew her to him and slipped a ring on her slender finger. "Ha! Caught you napping! It's on—fast!" She gave him an adorable look. "If it's ever taken off, you'll have to do it."

"That shall be—never!" he replied. Drawing her arm through his, he led her toward the door. "We're on our way, Tom. See you later at the car, I daresay. Must go now to break the news to 'Mamma.'"

"Won't she be surprised!" exulted Dolores. "It's such a joke that you and Genevieve didn't tell her! She's so sure of her methods—so sure. She'll find there are others who have methods, won't she, Lord Avondale?"

"Most charming methods!" agreed Lord James.

"S'long, Jimmy!" said Blake, gripping the other's carelessly offered hand. "Here's congratulations and good luck to you! Tell her—tell the others good-bye for me. I'll not come to the car. Tell 'em I'm too— too busy."

"Right-o! But we'll look to see you in town before a great while," replied Lord James, and he hurried Dolores out through the vestibule.

From the verandah the girl's clear voice sounded through the closed doors, free and merry, almost mocking.



CHAPTER XXXVI

THE OUTCOME

Blake stood where the lovers had left him. Their sudden and seemingly indifferent leave-taking had added its quota of depression to his already sinking spirit. When he had come ashore and had been intercepted by Mr. Leslie he already had begun to feel the reaction from the strain and excitement of those interminable minutes and hours on the bridge—the frightful responsibility of keeping all those hundreds of men out on the gigantic structure, which at any second might have crashed down with them to certain destruction.

Now even the remembrance that he had saved the bridge could not stimulate him. Mr. Leslie's friendly praise, even his more than cordial hand-grip, seemed meaningless. The world had suddenly turned drab and gray. Her father had stated vaguely that some one was waiting to speak with him in the office. He had hastened in, half hoping to find her—and had found only them.

He had saved the bridge; he had found strength to do the square thing by Mr. Leslie and even Ashton. And now they were all gone, even Jimmy, and he was alone—alone! She had come with the party. He was certain that some one had told him that. Yet she had not spoken to him. She had not even let him see her!

He went heavily across the room to the desk, and dropping into a chair, began methodically to gather up and fold the torn and rumpled blueprints upon the floor. But even an almost automatic habit has its limitations. A drawing slipped, half-folded, from his listless fingers. He groaned and leaned forward upon the desk, with his face buried in his arms.

Genevieve came out from her hiding place very quietly, and stood gazing at Blake. It was the first time that she had ever seen him give way to grief or suffering. Always he had stood before her firm and unyielding, even when most certain of defeat. It had never occurred to her that he could be other than hard and defiant over his own struggles and sorrows.

All the mother-love of her woman's nature welled up from her heart in a wave of tenderness and compassion. She went to him and laid her hand softly on his dishevelled head.

"Tom!" she soothed. "Tom! You poor boy!"

The touch of her hand had stricken his body rigid with suspense. But at the sound of her voice he slowly raised his head and fixed his eyes upon her in an incredulous stare.

"It is I, Tom. Don't you know me?" she half whispered, shrinking back a little way before the wildness of his look.

"You!" he gasped. He rose heavily. "Excuse me. I thought you were with them—on the car."

"Did not papa tell you?"

"He said something. I thought I had mistaken him. But you are here."

"Yes. I—I waited to speak with you—to tell you—"

"You told me that night all that's necessary," he said, averting his head to hide the look of pain that he could not repress.

"I was beside myself!" she replied. "You should have known that, Tom. How else could I have told you—told you—"

"The truth!" he broke in. "Don't think I blame you, Miss Jenny. Don't blame yourself."

"No, no, you do not understand!" she insisted. "Wait—what did you and papa do?"

"Made it up. So that's one thing less to worry you. He did it handsomely. Cracked me up for saving his bridge."

"Your bridge, too!"

"What! You know that?"

"Yes, and that you're to be partner with Mr. Griffith—finish your bridge, and build that great dam you invented, and—and if you wish, be partner in some of papa's business."

"That's too much. I told him I'd be satisfied with the credit for my bridge truss."

"Only that? Surely you'll not give up the bridge?"

"Well, 't isn't fair to kick a man when he's down. Ashton will have a tough enough time of it, I guess, from what your father said. He's to be allowed to resign, on condition that he acknowledges that he borrowed my bridge truss."

"Borrowed?"

"Yes. It seems that his father is one of your father's particular friends. So that's all settled."

She looked at him with radiant eyes. "Tom! You're even bigger—more generous—than I had thought!"

"Don't!" he muttered, drawing back. "It makes it so much harder. You don't realize!"

"Don't I?" she whispered, the color mounting swiftly in her down-bent face. "That night—that fearful night, I—Tell me—has James explained how we searched for you?—everywhere, all those days! We telegraphed all over the country. James searched the city, and papa had all his private agents—Where did you go?"

"South."

"South? Oh, and all this time—But that's past now—all the dreadful waiting and anxiety! Could you but know our delight when Mr. Griffith telegraphed that you were here!"

"What! Then you came because—"

"Yes, yes, to find you. Don't you see? We should have been here sooner, only the telegram was not delivered until after midnight, and I had to persuade Aunt Amice. She refused, until after I said I'd come anyway. But of course she doesn't know, even now. Oh, Tom! Tom!—to think you're over that dreadful attack and—"

"Attack?" he inquired.

"The one that started that night—through my fault—mine!"

"Your fault?" he repeated. "How on earth do you make that out?"

"I should have seen—understood! James had tried to explain; but I was overwrought. Not until you were going—But that is all past, dear! I've come to tell you that now you must let me help you. It is not right for you to fight alone—to refuse my aid, when I—when I—love you!"

"Jenny! You can't mean it? After that night—after what I did that night!"

"Yes," she whispered. "If you—if you'll forgive me."

"But—the drinking?"

"You can win! You proved it that night, when you crushed the glass. I no longer fear, Tom. All my doubt has gone. Even without my help I know that you—But I want to do my share, dear. If you're—you're willing, we'll be married, and—"

"Jenny!" He stood for a moment, overcome. Then the words burst from his deep chest: "Girl! Girl!—God! to think that I have that to tell you! Yes, it's true—I proved it that night—I won out that night! Do you hear, Jenny? I broke the curse! I proved it when I left you—went out into the night—after drinking all that whiskey—went down into the stockyards, past the worst saloons, all the joints. I went in and stood about, in all the odor—whiskey, beer—one after the other, I went in, and came out again, without having touched a drop. All the time I kept remembering that I had lost you; but—I knew I had found myself."

"Tom!"

"When I had made sure, I went to the freight yards, got into a fruit- car, and went to sleep. When I woke up, I was on the way to New Orleans. Been hoboing ever since."

"Oh!"

"Best thing for me. Put kinks into my body, but took 'em all out of my brain. About the drinking—it wasn't that night alone. I've kept testing myself every chance—even took a taste to make sure. Now I know. It's the simple truth, Jenny. I've won."

"My man!" she cried, and she came to him as he opened his arms.

THE END