That Girl Montana Part 46

"Who--Max? Of course I do. He is the best fellow I know, and was so good to me out there in the wilderness. There was no one out there to compare me with, so I suppose I loomed up big when compared with the average squaw. But everything is different here. I did not know how different. I know now, however, and I won't let him go on making a mistake."

"Oh, Montana!" cried the little lady, pleadingly.

Just then a maid entered with two cards, at which she glanced with a dismay that was comical.

"Margaret and Max! Why, is it not strange they should call at the same time, and at a time when--"

"When I was pairing them off so nicely, without their knowledge," added the girl. "Have them come up here, won't you? It is so much more cozy than that very elegant parlor. And I always feel as if poor Max had been turned out of his home since I came."

So they came to the little sitting room--pretty, dark-eyed Margaret, with her faultless manners and her real fondness for Miss Seldon, whom she kissed three times.

"For I have not seen you for three days," she explained, "and those two are back numbers." Then she turned to 'Tana and eyed her admiringly as they clasped hands.

"You look as though you had stepped from a picture of cla.s.sic Greek," she declared. "Where in that pretty curly head of yours do you find the ideas for those artistic arrangements of form and color? You are an artist, Montana, and you don't know it."

"I will begin to believe it if people keep telling me so."

"Who else has told you?" asked Lyster, and she laughed at him.

"Not you," she replied; "at least not since you teased me about the clay Indians I made on the sh.o.r.es of the Kootenai. But some one else has told me--Mr. Roden."

"Roden, the sculptor! But how does he know?"

She glanced from one face to the other, and sighed with a serio-comic expression. "I might as well confess," she said, at last. "I am so glad you are here, Miss Margaret, for I may need an advocate. I have been working two hours a day in Mr. Roden's studio for over a month."

"Montana!" gasped Miss Seldon, "but--how--when?"

"Before you were awake in the morning," she said, and looked from one to the other of their blank faces. "You look as if it were a shock, instead of a surprise," she added. "I did not tell you at first, as it would seem only a whim. But he has told me I have reason for the whim, and that I should continue. So--I think I shall."

"But, my child--for you are a child, after all--don't you know it is a very strange thing for a girl to go alone like that, and--and--Oh, dear!

Max, can't you tell her?"

But Max did not. There was a slight wrinkle between his brows, but she saw it and smiled.

"You can't scold me, though, can you?" she asked. "That is right, for it would be no use. I know you would say that in your set it would not be proper for a girl to do such independent things. But you see, I do not belong to any set. I have just been telling this dear little lady, who is trying to look stern, some of the reasons why society life and I can never agree. But I have found several reasons why Art life and I should agree perfectly. I like the freedom of it--the study of it. And, even if I never accomplish much, I shall at least have tried my best."

"But, Montana, it is not as though you had to learn such things," pleaded Miss Seldon. "You have plenty of money."

"Oh, money--money! But I have found there are a few things in this world money can not buy. Art study, little as I have attempted, has taught me that."

Lyster came over and sat beside her by the window.

"'Tana," he said, and looked at her with kindly directness, "can the Art study give you that which you crave, and which money can not buy?"

Her eyes fell to the floor. She could not but feel sorry to go against his wishes; and yet--

"No, it can not, entirely," she said, at last. "But it is all the subst.i.tute I know of, and, maybe, after a while, it will satisfy me."

Miss Seldon took Margaret from the room on some pretext, and Lyster rose and walked across to the other window. He was evidently much troubled or annoyed.

"Then you are not satisfied?" he asked. "The life that seemed possible to you, when out there in camp, is impossible to you now."

"Oh, Max! don't be angry--don't. Everything was all wrong out there. You were sorry for me out there; you thought me different from what I am. I could never be the sort of girl you should marry--not like Margaret--"

"Margaret!" and his face paled a little, "why do you speak of her?"

"I know, if you do not, Max," she answered, and smiled at him. "I have learned several things since I came here, and one of them is Mr. Haydon's reason for encouraging our friends.h.i.+p so much. It was to end any attachment between you and Margaret. Oh, I know, Max! If I had not looked just a little bit like her, you would never have fancied you loved me--for it was only a fancy."

"It was no fancy! I did love you. I was honest with you, and I have waited patiently, while you have grown more and more distant until now--"

"Now we had better end it all, Max. I could not make you happy, for I am not happy myself."

"Perhaps I--"

"No, you can not help me; and it is not your fault. You have been good to me--very good; but I can't marry any one."

"No one?" he asked, looking at her doubtfully. "'Tana, sometimes I have fancied you might have cared for some one else--some one before you met me."

"No, I cared for no one before I met you," she answered, slowly. "But I could not be happy in the social life of your people here. They are charming, but I am not suited to their life. And--and I can't go back to the hills. So, in a month, I am going to Italy."

"You have it all decided, then?"

"All--don't be angry, Max. You will thank me for it some day, though I know our friends will think badly of me just now."

"No, they shall not; you are breaking no promises. You took me only on trial, and it seems I don't suit," he said, with a grimace. "I will see that you are not blamed. And so long as you do not leave America, I should like you to remain here. Don't let anything be changed in our friends.h.i.+p, 'Tana."

She turned to him with tears in her eyes, and held out her hand.

"You are too good to me, Max," she said, brokenly, "G.o.d knows what will become of me when I leave you all and go among foreign faces, among whom I shall not have a friend. I hope to work and--be contented; but I shall never meet a friend like you again."

He drew her to him quickly.

"Don't go!" he whispered, pleadingly. "I can't let you go out into the world alone like that! I will love you--care for you--"

"Hus.h.!.+" and she put her hand on his face to push it away; "it is no use, and don't do that--try to kiss me; you must not. No man has ever kissed me, and you--"

"And I sha'n't be the first," he added, shrugging his shoulders. "Well, I confess I hoped to be, and you are a greater temptation than you know, Miss Montana. And you ought to pardon me the attempt."

Her face was flushed and shamed. "I could pardon a great deal in you, Max," she answered; "but don't speak of it again. Talk to me of other things."

"Other things? Well, I haven't many other things in my mind just now.

Still, I did see some one down town this morning whom you rather liked, and who asked after you. It was Mr. Harvey, the writer, whom we met first at Bonner's Ferry, up in the Kootenai land. Do you remember him?"

"Certainly. We met him afterward at one of the art galleries, and I have seen him several times at Roden's studio. They are great friends. He looked surprised to find me there, but, after I spoke to him, he talked to me a great deal. You know, Max, I always imagine he heard that suspicion of me up at the camp. Do you think so?"

"He never intimated it to me," answered Max; "though Haydon nearly went into spasms of fear lest he would put it all in some paper."

"I remember. He would scarcely allow me breathing s.p.a.ce for fear the stranger would get near enough to speak to me again. I remember all that journey, because when I reached the end of it, the past seemed like a troubled dream, for this life of fineness and beauty and leisure was all so different."