The Branding Iron - Page 102/142

"It was not horrible," said Joan violently; "it was the most

wonderful, beautiful country in all the world." And tears ran suddenly

down her face.

But she would not let him come near to comfort her. "Go on," she said

presently.

"Before you came, Joan," Prosper went on, "it was horrible. It was

like being starved. Every thing in the house reminded me of--her. I

had planned it all very carefully and we were to have been--happy. You

can fancy what it was to be there alone."

Joan nodded. She was just and she was honestly trying to put herself

in his place. "Yes," she said; "if I had gone back and Pierre had been

dead, his homestead would have been like that to me."

"It was because I was so miserable that I went out to hunt. I'd scour

the country all day and half the night to tire myself out, that I

could get some sleep. I was pretty far from home that moonlight night

when I heard you scream for help...."

Joan's face grew whiter. "Don't tell about that," she pleaded.

He paused, choosing another opening. "After I had bandaged you and

told you that Pierre was dead--and I honestly thought he was--I didn't

know what to do with you. You couldn't be left, and there was no

neighbor nearer than my own house; besides, I had shot a man, and,

perhaps,--I don't know, maybe I was influenced by your beauty, by my

own crazy loneliness.... You were very beautiful and very desolate. I

was in a fury over the brute's treatment of you...."

"Hush!" said Joan; "you are not to talk about Pierre."

Prosper shrugged. "I decided to take you home with me. I wanted you

desperately, just, I believe, to take care of, just to be kind

to--truly, Joan, I was lonely to the point of madness. Some one to

care for, some one to talk to, was absolutely necessary to save my

reason. So when I was leading you out, I--I saw Pierre's hand move--"

Joan stood up. After a moment she controlled herself with an effort

and sat down again. "Go on. I can stand it," she said.

"And I thought to myself, 'The devil is alive and he deserves to be

dead. This woman can never live with him again. God wouldn't sanction

such an act as giving her back to his hands.' And I was half-mad

myself, I'd been alone so long ... I stood so you couldn't see him,

Joan, and I threw an elk-hide over him and led you out."