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Believe me, my dear, it's a bad thing both for the man and the woman, when she marries above her." "Mrs. Simm," said Ivy, rising, "will you promise me one thing?" "Certainly, child, if I can." "Will you promise me never again to mention this thing to me, or allude to it in the most distant manner?" "Miss Ivy, now," began Mrs. Simm, deprecatingly.
Ellen dropped her head in brooding silence. "Say, do y'u expect me to believe that?" he queried, with a derisive leer. "Bah! What do I care what y'u believe?" she cried, with lifting head. "How aboot Simm Brace?" "That coyote! ... He lied aboot me, Jim Colter. And any man half a man would have known he lied." "Wal, Simm always bragged aboot y'u bein' his girl," asserted Colter.
"Yes, I went for the books yesterday," said Ivy, "but I got talking with Mrs. Simm and forgot them." "Ah!" he replied, looking somewhat surprised. "I did not know Mrs. Simm could be so entertaining. She must have exerted herself. Pray, now, if it would not be impertinent, upon what subject did she hold forth with eloquence so overpowering that everything else was driven from your mind?
Yet there was more, and as Jean gave the straining body a tremendous jerk backward, he felt the same strange thrill, the dark joy that he had known when his fist had smashed the face of Simm Bruce. Greaves had leered he had corroborated Bruce's vile insinuation about Ellen Jorth. So it was more than hate that actuated Jean Isbel. Greaves was heavy and powerful.
"It isn't so much on my account, as " and then, stepping quickly to the side of the officer he whispered something. "What!" cried the officer. "You don't tell me? That was a risk! I guess I'll have to help you get it out. Here, Mr. Simm," he called to one of the mates, "stand guard here. I'm going down into the hold with this young man." "Shall I come?" cried Ned. "No, you go stay with Mr.
Simm too late had warned her not to do; she had been carried away by the kindness and tenderness of her friend, and, unasked, had laid the wealth of her heart at his feet.
That unfortunate lady was in her sitting-room, starching muslins, when Mr. Clerron entered. She had surmised that he was gone to the farm, and had looked for his return with a shadow of dread. She saw by his face that something was wrong. "Mrs. Simm," he began, somewhat abruptly, but not disrespectfully, "may I beg your pardon for inquiring what Ivy Geer talked to you about, yesterday?"
Simm had not a particle of that knowledge in which Young America is so great a proficient, namely, the "knowing how to get out of a scrape."
"Hah!" exclaimed Jorth, with a stain of red in his sallow cheek. "Reckon none of that is news to me. I knew all that." Ellen wondered if he had heard of her meeting with Jean Isbel. If not he would hear as soon as Simm Bruce and Lorenzo came back. She decided to forestall them. "Dad, I met Jean Isbel. He came into my camp. Asked the way to the Rim. I showed him. We we talked a little.
"I love you with all the strength and power that God has given me." "You do not simply pity me? You have not, because you heard from Mrs. Simm, or suspected, yourself, that I was weak enough to mistake your kindness and nobleness, you have not in pity resolved to sacrifice your happiness to mine?" "No, Ivy, nothing of the kind. I pity only myself. I reverence you, I think.
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