"What are you coming to?What can you have to show me in this connection that I will believe in for a moment?""I have these -is monsieur certaine that no one can hear?Iwouldn't have anybody hear what I have to tell you,for the world -for all the world.""No one can overhear."
For the first time that day Sweetwater breathed a full,deep breath.
This assurance had sounded heartfelt."Blessings on her cunning young head.She thinks of everything.""You are unhappy.You have thought Miss Challoner cold;-that she had no response for your ver ardent passion.But -"these words were uttered sotto voce and with telling pauses -"but -I -know -ver much better than that.She was ver proud.She had a right;she was no poor girl like me -but she spend hours -hours in writing letters she -nevaire send.I saw one,just once,for a leetle minute;while you could breathe so short as that;and began with Cheri,or your English for that,and ended with words -Oh,ver much like these:
You may nevaire see these lines,which was ver interesting,veree so,and made one want to see what she did with letters she wrote and nevaire mail;so I watch and look,and one day I see them.She had a leetle ivory box -Oh,ver nice,ver pretty.I thought it was jewels she kept locked up so tight.But,non,non,non.It was letters -these letters.I heard them rattle,rattle,not once but many times.You believe me,monsieur?
"I believe you to have taken every advantage posible to spy upon your mistress.I believe that,yes.""From interest,monsieur,from great interest.""Self-interest."
"As monsieur pleases.But it was strange,ver strange for a grande dame like that to write letters -sheets on sheets -and then not send them,nevaire.I dreamed of those letters -I could not help it,no;and when she died so quick -with no word for any one,no word at all,I thought of those writings so secret,so of the heart,and when no one noticed -or thought about this box,or -or the key she kept shut tight,oh,always tight in her leetle gold purse,I-Monsieur,do you want to see those letters?"asked the girl,with a gulp.Evidently his appearance frightened her -or had her acting reached this point of extreme finish?"I had nevaire the chance to put them back.And -and they belong to monsieur.They are his -all his -and so beautiful!Ah,just like poetry.""I don't consider them mine.I haven't a particle of confidence in you or in your story.You are a thief -self-convicted;or you're an agent of the police whose motives I neither understand nor care to investigate.Take up your bag and go.I haven't a cent's worth of interest in its contents."She started to her feet.Sweetwater heard her chair grate on the painted floor,as she pushed it back in rising.The brother rose too,but more calmly.Brotherson did not stir.Sweetwater felt his hopes rapidly dying down -down into ashes,when suddenly her voice broke forth in pants:
"And Marie said -everybody said -that you loved our great lady;that you,of the people,common,common,working with the hands,living with men and women working with the hands,that you had soul,sentiment -what you will of the good and the great,and that you would give your eyes for her words,si fines,si spirituelles,so like des vers de poete.False!false!all false!She was an angel.You are -read that!"she vehemently broke in,opening her bag and whisking a paper down before him."Read and understand my proud and lovely lady.She did right to die.You are hard -hard.You would have killed her if she had not -""Silence,woman!I will read nothing!"came hissing from the strong man's teeth,set in almost ungovernable anger."Take back this letter,as you call it,and leave my room.""Nevaire!You will not read?But you shall,you shall.Behold another!One,two,three,four!"Madly they flew from her hand.
Madly she continued her vituperative attack."Beast!beast!That she should pour out her innocent heart to you,you!I do not want your money,Monsieur of the common street,of the common house.It would be dirt.Pierre,it would be dirt.Ah,bah!je m'oublie tout a fait.Pierre,il est bete.Il refuse de les toucher.Mais il faut qu'il les touche,si je les laisse sur le plancher.Va-t'en!
Je me moque de lui.Canaille!L'homme du peuple,tout a fait du peuple!"A loud slam -the skurrying of feet through the hall,accompanied by the slower and heavier tread of the so-called brother,then silence,and such silence that Sweetwater fancied he could catch the sound of Brotherson's heavy breathing.His own was silenced to a gasp.What a treasure of a girl!How natural her indignation!
What an instinct she showed and what comprehension!This high and mighty handling of a most difficult situation and a most difficult man,had imposed on Brotherson,had almost imposed upon himself.
Those letters so beautiful,so spirituelle!Yet,the odds were that she had never read them,much less abstracted them.The minx!the ready,resourceful,wily,daring minx!
But had she imposed on Brotherson?As the silence continued,Sweetwater began to doubt.He understood quite well the importance of his neighbour's first movement.Were he to tear those letters into shreds!He might be thus tempted.All depended on the strength of his present mood and the real nature of the secret which lay buried in his heart.
Was that heart as flinty as it seemed?Was there no place for doubt or even for curiosity,in its impenetrable depths?Seemingly,he had not moved foot or hand since his unwelcome visitors had left.
He was doubtless still staring at the scattered sheets lying before him;possibly battling with unaccustomed impulses;possibly weighing deeds and consequences in those slow moving scales of his in which no man could cast a weight with any certainty how far its even balance would be disturbed.
