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Joe can lay me out cold, but I'll never quit!" "If Beattie put Bela out, she got no place to go," pleaded Musq'oosis. Sam scowled helplessly. "What can I do?" he asked. "Bela's nearly done for me already up here. She shouldn't ask this of me. I'll put it up to her. She'll understand." "No use stoppin'," said Musq'oosis. "Bela send me up road tell you not stop to-night."
She tottered across the room and sank into a chair. She wanted time to think. What had Andor done? What a fool she had been not to ask him the straight question while she had the chance. She had been afraid of little things her father's temper, Erös Béla's sneers when now there was death and murder to fear. What had Andor done? Had he played her false?
"And a good thing for you, too!" cried Joe. "By George, I've a good mind to thrash him for that!" muttered Jack. His attention was attracted in the other direction by a laugh from Bela. It had anything but a merry sound, but their ears were not sharp enough to detect the lack. Bela's nostrils were dilated, and her lip oddly turned back. But she laughed. "He is fonny cook!" she said. "I got laugh!"
For all Bela's precautions, some one might gain access to this room. This would mean the discovery of my secret. Some new method must be devised for securing me absolutely against intrusion. Entrance into my simple, almost unguarded cottage must be made impossible. A close fence should replace the pickets now surrounding it a fence with a gate having its own lock. And this fence was built.
Roasted duck and prairie-chicken; stewed rabbit and broiled fish fresh out of the lake! Pudding with raisins in it, and on Sunday an apricot pie!" Bela, it seemed, brought everybody under contribution. They told how even Mrs. Beattie, the great lady of the place, was giving her cooking lessons. It was not only the food that made Bela's place attractive.
Poor Sam, after listening to these tales, was obliged to drive past the house of entertainment eyes front, and cook his supper in solitude at Grier's Point. He could no longer count on even an occasional companion, for nowadays everybody hurried to Bela's. The plain fact of the matter was, he suffered torments of lonesomeness.
Everyone was pleased at the marriage, pleased that the noted beauty would still have her home in Marosfalva, pleased that Erös Béla's wealth would all remain in the place. And Elsa received these congratulations and attended these rejoicings with unvarying equanimity and cheerfulness. There was nothing morbid or self-centred in the girl's attitude.
When he came around to Bela's fire again, seeing the dugout drawn up on the sand, his heart leaped at the chance of escape. If he could push off in it without capsizing, surely, even with his lack of skill, he could drive before the wind. Or even if he could keep it floating under the lee of the island, he could dictate terms.
She had been able to tell Pater Bonifácius exactly what was troubling her that sense of peace, almost of relief, which had descended into her soul when she heard that she never, never need be Erös Béla's wife.
Another glance through her long, dark lashes on both the men, and Klara Goldstein turned to go. But before she could take a step toward the door, Béla's masterful hand was on her wrist. "What are you doing?" he asked roughly. "Going, my good Béla," she replied airily, "going. What else can I do?
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