The Sherrods Part 15

"My picture in her den?" he managed to stammer, feeling sure that his friend could detect an emotion that might require explanation.

"Sure--most prominent thing in the room. She says the boy who drew it will be a master some day. The trouble is, she forgot your name. She says she'd know your face or the girl's anywhere, but the name is gone.

By George, this will please her."

The girl's! Jud's thoughts flew back to Justine, tenderly, even resentfully, for why should this careless city maid speak of her as "the girl"?

"I'll take you to call, Sherrod. I know she'll be glad to see you, and I'll surprise her. This is great! Let's see: I'll say you are a particular friend, but I'll not give up your name. She'd remember it.

I can see her now when she first gazes upon your face. Great!"

Jud went home that night in a delightful torture of antic.i.p.ation.

After all these months of waiting and watching, fate--nothing less than fate--was to bring him to her side with the long unspoken words of grat.i.tude and joy. What would she be like? How would she look? How would she be dressed? Not in that familiar gray of his memory, to be sure, but--but--and so he wondered, as he tossed in his bed that night.

It would be some days before Converse could take him to the home of Miss Wood, and until then he must be content with imaginings. One thing worried him. Just before he left his friend, Dougla.s.s had asked with an unhidden concern in his voice:

"You're sure you've got a sweetheart down there?"

Jud's heart stopped beating for a second. Something within him urged him to cry out that he had no sweetheart, but a loving, loyal wife.

But the old spirit of timidity conquered.

"I am sure I had one," he replied, and his heart throbbed with relief.

"And you're the kind of a fellow who'll stick to her, too. I know you well enough to say that," said the other warmly, as if some odd misgiving had pa.s.sed from his mind.

"Thanks for the good opinion," said Jud, a great lump clogging his throat.

And when at last he slept, his dreams were of the old days and Justine, and how lonely he was without her--how lonely she must be down there in the cold, dark night--sick, perhaps, and longing for him. In his dream they were at Proctor's Falls, then in Chicago, then she was beside him in the bed. His arm, moved by dream love, stretched out and drew her close to his breast and there were no scores of miles between his tranquil heart and that of the girl he wors.h.i.+ped.

CHAPTER XIV.

"MY TRUEST COMRADE."

He looked forward to the meeting with Miss Wood as if it were to be one of the epochs in his life. An odd fear took possession of him--cowardice, inspired by the knowledge that he was not of her world.

Once again he felt like the crude, ignorant country boy, and he trembled at the thought of meeting this beautiful "society girl" in her own realm. In the old days he had interested her as if he were a curiosity; now he was to see her on different grounds. He was to submit to an inspection which he knew he was not yet able to endure.

As the night drew near for the visit to her home, as arranged by the glowing Converse, self-consciousness overpowered him. What would she think of him?

Converse rushed in one day and told him that he had just seen Miss Wood on the street--in fact had ridden several blocks in her carriage--and that a strange coincidence was to be related. She was driving to the Art Inst.i.tute with his drawing of Proctor's Falls. She had, through some influence of her own, obtained permission to hang it for a few weeks. No sooner had his visitor departed than Jud, throwing aside his work, dashed from the building and off to the Inst.i.tute. He hoped that he might see her there; at least, he might again look upon that humble sketch as it hung among the aristocratic lordlings of art. She was not there, but he managed to find his picture. A man was placing it in a rather conspicuous place on the wall.

"New picture, eh?" Jud asked, a.s.suming indifference.

"Yes. It beats the devil how the management lets cranks, just because they're pretty, come in here and hang chromos. Look at that. Wouldn't that jar you? Lead pencil and crayon, and as cheap as mud. Next thing we know they'll be hanging patent medicine ads in here."

Jud walked away. He never forgot that half minute of impersonal criticism. As he was hurrying from the building he saw a carriage drive swiftly from the curb below. For one brief instant he had a glimpse of a face inside--one that he had never forgotten.

She drove toward State Street, in the direction of the big stores to the north. Hoping for another glimpse of her, he followed. From afar he saw her enter her carriage and whirl away toward the river and her North Side home. Then he went back to work and to the letter he was writing to Justine. It teemed with references to the fairy of Proctor's Falls.

The next evening but one found him ready for the call, but very nervous. He felt that he was taking a step into the world in which he might not be fit to hold a place; a world which would stare curiously at him as a gifted plebeian, and shut its doors upon him when the novelty had died.

He dressed himself laboriously for the event. It was to be his introduction into select society, and he must not let that be the occasion for the faintest twinkle of mirth in the eyes of those to the manner born. At the Athletic Club he met Converse, who looked him over admiringly. If Converse had purposed exhibiting him to Miss Wood as a matter of entertainment for one night, the plan was not feasible.

Instead of the careless artist or the unsophisticated youth, there appeared a straight, strong figure, a clean-cut face, keen and handsome. Indeed, Converse found himself envying Jud's dignity of manner. He did not know that the apathy of the person who rode beside him was the composure of extreme dread. Almost before Jud was aware of it, he was inside the Wood drawing-room, awaiting the appearance of its mistress. Through the maze he could barely remember pa.s.sing an august personage who opened the doors to them and who said that Miss Wood was expecting Mr. Converse. Then he found himself sitting in a gorgeous apartment, blankly listening to the undertones of his friend, and responding with mechanical calmness, so that Converse marveled again at his conventional bearing. That young man was delighted with the surprise he had in store for the girl he loved.

She came into the room suddenly and unexpectedly, and the two men arose--one with a laugh, the other with serious, questioning eyes.

Miss Wood gave Converse her hand and turned to Jud with the smile which precedes an introduction. He detected the instantaneous gleam of inquiry, strengthened presently to perplexity and wonder.

"Let me present----" began Converse, but she restrained him quickly.

There was now an intentness in her gaze that brought the blood to Jud's face.

"I know your face--don't speak, Dougla.s.s. Will you let me guess--let me think? Pardon my extraordinary behavior, but I am so sure I know you. I have seen you often, very often, I know. You are--oh, dear, how embarra.s.sing! Yes, yes, I know now!" Her eyes fairly danced with the joy of discovery and she impulsively came to him with hand outstretched. "You are the artist--the boy who drew the picture!"

"Yes, you have guessed," said Jud.

"I knew your face. I am so glad to see you. And you are living out my prophecy, too. Where is the country boy now? What did I tell you?"

She stood before him, her eyes looking squarely up into his face, bright with smiles.

"I am trying to merit the recommendation you gave me, but I am afraid I'll fail," said he.

"Fail?" cried Converse. "You've made a sensational hit, Sherrod, and you owe it to this prophet in petticoats. She made you. If it hadn't been for her, you'd be down there in the woods plowing hay and digging cuc.u.mbers and n.o.body'd know you were on earth. If I were you I'd jump up and crack my heels together, and yell like a cannibal. That's how happy I'd feel."

The boy's excitement was contagious, and Jud began to lose some of his embarra.s.sment.

"I am happy, and I'd like to shout my gratification to Miss Wood," he said. "She fairly drove me to some sort of action. Without her encouragement I'm sure nothing could have induced me to try my luck here."

"Oh, you would have discovered yourself some day. Genius like yours would sooner or later become a master and compelled you to obey. I merely poked you until you awoke from the dreams and began to see things as they are. And are you really living in Chicago?"

Then she compelled him to tell her all about himself, his work, and his plans. She was so deeply interested that his heart glowed. As he sat and talked with her, forgetting that Converse was present, he felt himself gradually lulled into security, like that of a traveler who has crept along the edge of a precipice for miles and has reached a haven from which he can look back and laugh at the terrors.

For an hour they conversed, seriously, merrily about his experiences in the city. He was a true gentleman, therefore modest; the p.r.o.noun "I"

was used as sparingly as possible, and there was an absence of egotism that charmed his new-found friend. He was beginning to realize the success he had achieved in the city, but one look into his honest gray eyes proved that he was no braggadocio. She saw that she could safely compliment him on his progress; she compared him as he sat before her with the country boy she had first known, when she told him that she knew then that he was a great diamond that needed little polis.h.i.+ng.

The magnificence of his surroundings, the beauty of his hostess, the subtle influence of splendor, softened his first rough feelings of apprehension into the mellow confidence of ease and urbanity. It was all so strange and sweet that he lived it over and over again in the days that followed, before he could convince himself that he--poor Jud Sherrod--had not really been in fairyland.

There was no questioning the sincerity of her admiration. Converse sat back and jealously watched the light in her eyes, and listened to the new fervor in her voice as she talked to the man whose demeanor plainly indicated that he considered her his guiding star in the journey from obscurity to light.

"O, yes," she cried, suddenly, a taunting gleam coming to her eyes, "I have forgotten something quite important. What has become of the beautiful sweetheart? I never saw a prettier girl. Is she still down there?"

For a moment the spell was broken. He caught his breath. He had forgotten Justine--his own Justine! His composure fled, his eyes wavered before the laughing eyes of his inquisitor. His lips parted with the impulse to blurt out that she was his wife, when he remembered Converse. He had led Converse with the others to consider him unmarried, unintentionally and innocently he knew down in his heart.

His helpless looks from one to the other showed such unmistakable signs of embarra.s.sment that Miss Wood hastily sought to relieve the situation, fearing she had committed a painful blunder.

"I beg your pardon. It is not my affair and I----" she began, but Converse, obtuse and rejoicing in Jud's discomfiture, interrupted.

"O, she's still there, all right, all right. Look at his blushes! I wish I had the luck he has."

"Dougla.s.s Converse, I'll send you to the library if you don't keep quiet. I hope you will pardon my natural curiosity, Mr. Sherrod," she said, gravely.

Sherrod caught his breath again and battled for an instant with something in his throat, then allowed a deeper flush to follow the first--the flush that comes with criminal bravery.

"I don't mind telling you about her. She still lives down at my old home and often writes to me about you, wondering whether I have seen you," he said in a hard voice, fully resolved to deceive for the time being.