"I ain't a young lady!"
"No; well, you 're going to be if I have my way, and I don't believe
the sort of a gent described would be very apt to help you much in
getting there."
"You ain't all that."
"Well, perhaps not. Like an amateur artist, madam may have laid the
colors on a little thick. But I am no winged angel, Kid, nor exactly a
model for you to copy after. I reckon you better stick to the woman,
and cut me."
She did not answer, yet he read an unchanged purpose in her eyes, and
his own decision strengthened. Some instinct led him to do the right
thing; he drew forth the locket from beneath the folds of her dress,
holding it open to the light. He noticed now a name engraven on the
gold case, and bent lower to decipher it.
"Was her name Naida? It is an uncommon word."
"Yes."
"And yours also?"
"Yes."
Their eyes met, and those of both had perceptibly softened.
"Naida," his lips dwelt upon the peculiar name as though he loved the
sound. "I want you to listen to me, child. I sincerely wish I might
keep you here with me, but I can't. You are more to me than you dream,
but it would not be right for me thus deliberately to sacrifice your
whole future to my pleasure. I possess nothing to offer you,--no home,
no friends, no reputation. Practically I am an outlaw, existing by my
wits, disreputable in the eyes of those who are worthy to live in the
world. She, who was your mother, would never wish you to remain with
me. She would say I did right in giving you up into the care of a good
woman. Naida, look on that face in the locket, your mother's face. It
is sweet, pure, beautiful, the face of a good, true woman. Living or
dead, it must be the prayer of those lips that you become a good woman
also. She should lead you, not I, for I am unworthy. For her sake,
and in her name, I ask you to go back to Mrs. Herndon."
He could perceive the gathering tears in her eyes, and his hand closed
tightly about her own. It was not one soul alone that struggled.
"You will go?"
"O Bob, I wish you wasn't a gambler!"
A moment he remained silent. "But unfortunately I am," he admitted,
soberly, "and it is best for you to go back. Won't you?"