CHAPTER XXV

On the evening of the day after the funeral Roaring Abel went off for a

spree. He had been sober for four whole days and could endure it no

longer. Before he went, Valancy told him she would be going away the

next day. Roaring Abel was sorry, and said so. A distant cousin from

“up back” was coming to keep house for him—quite willing to do so now

since there was no sick girl to wait on—but Abel was not under any

delusions concerning her.

“She won’t be like you, my girl. Well, I’m obliged to you. You helped

me out of a bad hole and I won’t forget it. And I won’t forget what you

did for Cissy. I’m your friend, and if you ever want any of the

Stirlings spanked and sot in a corner send for me. I’m going to wet my

whistle. Lord, but I’m dry! Don’t reckon I’ll be back afore tomorrow

night, so if you’re going home tomorrow, good-bye now.”

“I _may_ go home tomorrow,” said Valancy, “but I’m not going back to

Deerwood.”

“Not going——”

“You’ll find the key on the woodshed nail,” interrupted Valancy,

politely and unmistakably. “The dog will be in the barn and the cat in

the cellar. Don’t forget to feed her till your cousin comes. The pantry

is full and I made bread and pies today. Good-bye, Mr. Gay. You have

been very kind to me and I appreciate it.”

“We’ve had a d——d decent time of it together, and that’s a fact,” said

Roaring Abel. “You’re the best small sport in the world, and your

little finger is worth the whole Stirling clan tied together. Good-bye

and good-luck.”

Valancy went out to the garden. Her legs trembled a little, but

otherwise she felt and looked composed. She held something tightly in

her hand. The garden was lying in the magic of the warm, odorous July

twilight. A few stars were out and the robins were calling through the

velvety silences of the barrens. Valancy stood by the gate expectantly.

Would he come? If he did not——

He was coming. Valancy heard Lady Jane Grey far back in the woods. Her

breath came a little more quickly. Nearer—and nearer—she could see Lady

Jane now—bumping down the lane—nearer—nearer—he was there—he had sprung

from the car and was leaning over the gate, looking at her.

“Going home, Miss Stirling?”

“I don’t know—yet,” said Valancy slowly. Her mind was made up, with no

shadow of turning, but the moment was very tremendous.

“I thought I’d run down and ask if there was anything I could do for

you,” said Barney.

Valancy took it with a canter.

“Yes, there is something you can do for me,” she said, evenly and

distinctly. “Will you marry me?”

For a moment Barney was silent. There was no particular expression on

his face. Then he gave an odd laugh.

“Come, now! I knew luck was just waiting around the corner for me. All

the signs have been pointing that way today.”

“Wait.” Valancy lifted her hand. “I’m in earnest—but I want to get my

breath after that question. Of course, with my bringing up, I realise

perfectly well that this is one of the things ‘a lady should not do.’”

“But why—why?”

“For two reasons.” Valancy was still a little breathless, but she

looked Barney straight in the eyes, while all the dead Stirlings

revolved rapidly in their graves and the living ones did nothing

because they did not know that Valancy was at that moment proposing

lawful marriage to the notorious Barney Snaith. “The first reason is,

I—I”—Valancy tried to say “I love you” but could not. She had to take

refuge in a pretended flippancy. “I’m crazy about you. The second

is—this.”

She handed him Dr. Trent’s letter.

Barney opened it with the air of a man thankful to find some safe, sane

thing to do. As he read it his face changed. He understood—more perhaps

than Valancy wanted him to.

“Are you sure nothing can be done for you?”

Valancy did not misunderstand the question.

“Yes. You know Dr. Trent’s reputation in regard to heart disease. I

haven’t long to live—perhaps only a few months—a few weeks. I want to

_live_ them. I can’t go back to Deerwood—you know what my life was like

there. And”—she managed it this time—“I love you. I want to spend the

rest of my life with you. That’s all.”

Barney folded his arms on the gate and looked gravely enough at a

white, saucy star that was winking at him just over Roaring Abel’s

kitchen chimney.

“You don’t know anything about me. I may be a—murderer.”

“No, I don’t. You _may_ be something dreadful. Everything they say of

you may be true. But it doesn’t matter to me.”

“You care that much for me, Valancy?” said Barney incredulously,

looking away from the star and into her eyes—her strange, mysterious

eyes.

“I care—that much,” said Valancy in a low voice. She was trembling. He

had called her by her name for the first time. It was sweeter than

another man’s caress could have been just to hear him say her name like

that.

“If we are going to get married,” said Barney, speaking suddenly in a

casual, matter-of-fact voice, “some things must be understood.”

“Everything must be understood,” said Valancy.

“I have things I want to hide,” said Barney coolly. “You are not to ask

me about them.”

“I won’t,” said Valancy.

“You must never ask to see my mail.”

“Never.”

“And we are never to pretend anything to each other.”

“We won’t,” said Valancy. “You won’t even have to pretend you like me.

If you marry me I know you’re only doing it out of pity.”

“And we’ll never tell a lie to each other about anything—a big lie or a

petty lie.”

“Especially a petty lie,” agreed Valancy.

“And you’ll have to live back on my island. I won’t live anywhere

else.”

“That’s partly why I want to marry you,” said Valancy.

Barney peered at her.

“I believe you mean it. Well—let’s get married, then.”

“Thank you,” said Valancy, with a sudden return of primness. She would

have been much less embarrassed if he had refused her.

“I suppose I haven’t any right to make conditions. But I’m going to

make one. You are never to refer to my heart or my liability to sudden

death. You are never to urge me to be careful. You are to

forget—absolutely forget—that I’m not perfectly healthy. I have written

a letter to my mother—here it is—you are to keep it. I have explained

everything in it. If I drop dead suddenly—as I likely will do——”

“It will exonerate me in the eyes of your kindred from the suspicion of

having poisoned you,” said Barney with a grin.

“Exactly.” Valancy laughed gaily. “Dear me, I’m glad this is over. It

has been—a bit of an ordeal. You see, I’m not in the habit of going

about asking men to marry me. It is so nice of you not to refuse me—or

offer to be a brother!”

“I’ll go to the Port tomorrow and get a license. We can be married

tomorrow evening. Dr. Stalling, I suppose?”

“Heavens, no.” Valancy shuddered. “Besides, he wouldn’t do it. He’d

shake his forefinger at me and I’d jilt you at the altar. No, I want my

old Mr. Towers to marry me.”

“Will you marry me as I stand?” demanded Barney. A passing car, full of

tourists, honked loudly—it seemed derisively. Valancy looked at him.

Blue homespun shirt, nondescript hat, muddy overalls. Unshaved!

“Yes,” she said.

Barney put his hands over the gate and took her little, cold ones

gently in his.

“Valancy,” he said, trying to speak lightly, “of course I’m not in love

with you—never thought of such a thing as being in love. But, do you

know, I’ve always thought you were a bit of a dear.”