HIS EVIL GENIUS

When Fred Brydon went to his work that morning, smarting from the angry words that Evelyn had hurled at him, everyone he met noticed how gloomy and burdened he seemed to be; how totally unlike his former easy good-nature and genial cheerfulness was his strange air of reserve.

They thought they knew the cause, and told each other so when he was not listening.

When he came into the kitchen to wash himself at noon he heard one of the men say to another in an aside: “He’ll be the last one to catch on.”

He paid no particular attention to the sentence at the time, but it stuck in his memory.

The day was fine and dry, and the thresher was run at the top of its speed. One more day would finish the stacks, and as this was the last threshing to be done in the neighborhood, the greatest effort was put forth to finish it before the weather broke.

They urged him to stay the night they would begin again at daylight the weather was so uncertain.

He thought, of course, that the twins were safely at home, and Evelyn had often said that she was not afraid to stay. He had consented to stay, when all at once the weather changed.

The clouds had hung low and heavy all day, but after sundown a driving wind carrying stray flakes of snow began to whistle around the stacks. The air, too, grew heavy, and a feeling of oppression began to be evident.

The pigs ran across the yard carrying a mouthful of straw, and the cattle crowded into the sheds. Soon the ground was covered with loose snow, which began to whirl in gentle, playful eddies. The warmth of the air did not in any way deceive the experienced dwellers on the plain, who knew that the metallic whistle in the wind meant business.

The owner of the threshing machine covered it up with canvas, and all those who had been helping, as soon as they had supper, started to make the journey to their homes. It looked as if a real Manitoba blizzard was setting in.

In spite of the protestations of all the men, Fred did not wait for his supper, but set out at once on the three-mile walk home.

Evelyn’s hasty words still stung him with the sense of failure and defeat. If Evelyn had gone back on him what good was anything to him?

Walking rapidly down the darkening trail, his thoughts were very bitter and self-reproachful; he had done wrong, he told himself, to bring her to such a lonely place it would have been better for Evelyn if she had never met him she had given up too much for his sake.

He noticed through the drifting storm that there was something ahead of him on the trail, and, quickening his steps, he was surprised to overtake his two brothers leisurely returning from their duck hunt.

“Why did you two fellows leave when you knew I was away? You know that Evelyn will be frightened to be left there all alone.”

Instantly all his own troubles vanished at the thought of his wife left alone on the wide prairie.

His brothers strongly objected to his words.

“We don’t ’ave to stay to mind ’er, do we?” sneered Reginald.

“Maybe she ain’t alone, either,” broke in Randolph, seeing an opportunity to turn Fred’s wrath in another direction.

“What are you driving at?” asked Fred in surprise.

“Maybe Rance Belmont has dropped in again to spend the evenin’ he usually does when you’re away!”

“You lie!” cried Fred, angrily.

“We ain’t lyin’,” declared Randolph. “Everybody knows it only you.”

The words were no sooner said than Fred fell upon him like a madman. Randolph roared lustily for help, and Reginald valiantly strove to save him from Fred’s fury. But they retreated before him as he rained his blows upon them both.

Then Reginald, finding that he was no match for Fred in open conflict, dodged around behind him, and soon a misty dizziness in his head told Fred that he had been struck by something heavier than hands. There was a booming in his ears and he fell heavily to the road.

The twins were then thoroughly frightened. Here was a dreadful and unforeseen possibility.

They stood still to consider what was to be done.

“It was you done it, remember,” said Randolph to Reginald.

“But I done it to save you!” cried Reginald, indignantly, “and you can’t prove it was me. People can’t tell us apart.”

“Anyway,” said Reginald, “everybody will blame it on Rance Belmont if he is killed and see here, here’s the jolly part of it. I’ll leave Rance’s gun right beside him. That’ll fix the guilt on Rance!”

“Well, we won’t go home; we’ll go back and stay in the shootin’-house at the Slough, and then we can prove we weren’t home at all, and there’ll be no tracks by mornin’, anyway.”

The twins turned around and retraced their steps through the storm, very hungry and very cross, but forgetting these emotions in the presence of a stronger one fear.

But Fred was not killed, only stunned by Reginald’s cowardly blow. The soft flakes melting on his face revived him, and sitting up he looked about him trying to remember where he was. Slowly it all came to him, and stiff and sore, he got upon his feet. There were no signs of the twins, but to this Fred gave no thought; his only anxiety was for Evelyn, left alone on such a wild night.

When he entered his own house with Rance Belmont’s words ringing in his ears, he stood for a moment transfixed. His brother’s words which he had so hotly resented surged over him now with fatal conviction; also the words he had heard at the threshing, “He’ll be the last one to catch on,” came to him like the flash of lightning that burns and uproots and destroys.

His head swam dizzily and lights danced before his eyes. He stood for a moment without speaking. He was not sure that it wasn’t all a horrible dream.

If he had looked first at Evelyn, her honest face and flashing eyes would have put his unworthy suspicions to flight. But Rance Belmont with his fatal magnetic presence drew his gaze. Rance Belmont stood with downcast eyes, the living incarnation of guilt. It was all a pose, of course, but Rance Belmont, with his deadly gift of being able to make any impression he wished, made a wonderful success of the part he had all at once decided to play.

Looking at him, Fred’s smouldering jealousy burst into flame.

There was an inarticulate sound in his throat, and striding forward he landed a smashing blow on Rance Belmont’s averted face.

“Oh, Fred!” Evelyn cried, springing forward, “for shame! how could you! how dare you! ”

“Don’t talk to me of shame!” Fred cried, his face white with anger.

“Don’t blame her,” Rance said in a low voice. He made no attempt to defend himself.

In her excitement Evelyn did not notice the sinister significance of his words and what they implied. She was conscious of nothing only that Fred had insulted her by his actions, and her wrath grew as terrible as her husband’s.

She caught him by the shoulder and compelled him to look at her.

“Fred,” she cried, “do you believe do you dare to believe this terrible thing?”

She shook him in her rage and excitement.

Rance Belmont saw that Fred would be convinced of her innocence if he did not gain his attention, and the devil in him spoke again, soft, misleading, lying words, part truth, yet all false, leaving no chance for denial.

“Don’t blame her the fault has all been mine,” he interposed again.

In her blind rage again Evelyn missed the significance of his words. She was conscious of one thought only Fred had not immediately craved her pardon. She shook and trembled with uncontrollable rage.

“I hate you, Fred!” she cried, her voice sounding thin and unnatural. “I hate you! One minute ago I believed you to be the noblest man on earth; now I know you for an evil-minded, suspicious, contemptible, dog! a dog! a cur! My father was right about you. I renounce you forever!”

She pulled the rings from her finger and flung them against the window, cracking the glass across. “I will never look on your face again, I hope. This is my reward, is it, for giving up everything for you? I boasted of your trust in me a minute ago, but you have shamed me; you have dragged my honor in the dust, but now I am free and you may believe what you please!”

She turned to Rance Belmont.

“Will you drive me to Brandon to-night?” she asked.

She put on her coat and hat without a word or a look at the man, who stood as if rooted to the ground.

Then opening the door she went out quickly, and Rance Belmont, with something like triumph on his black face, quickly followed her, and Fred Brydon, bruised in body and stricken in soul, was left alone in his desolate house.