Vagabondia Part 28

They had settled what to do beforehand. At the corner of the street Gowan was to leave them, and the two girls were to go in together, Mollie making her way at once to her room upon pretext of headache. A night's rest would restore her self-control, and by the next morning she would be calm enough to face the rest, and so her wild escapade would end without risk of comment if she was sufficiently discreet to keep her own counsel. At present she was too thoroughly upset and frightened even to feel humiliation.

"Nearly half-past nine," said Gowan, as he a.s.sisted them to descend to the pavement at their journey's end.

The light from an adjacent lamp showed him that the face under Dolly's hat was very pale and excited, and her eyes were s.h.i.+ning and large with repressed tears as she gave him her hand.

"I cannot find words to thank you just yet," she said, low and hurriedly. "I wish I could; but--you know what you have helped me to save Mollie from to-night, and so you know what my grat.i.tude must be.

The next time I see you, perhaps, I shall be able to say what I wish, but now I can only say goodnight, and--oh, G.o.d bless you!" And the little hand fairly wrung his.

Mollie shook hands with him, trembling and almost reluctantly. She was pale, too, and her head drooped as if it would nevermore regain the old trick of wilful, regal carriage.

"You have been very kind to take so much trouble," she said. "You were kinder than I deserved,--both of you."

"Now," said Dolly, when he sprang into the cab, and they turned away together,--"now for getting into the house as quietly as possible. No,"

trying to speak cheerily, and as if their position was no great matter, "you must n't tremble, Mollie, and you mustn't cry. It is all over now, and everything is as commonplace and easy to manage as can be. You have been out, and have got the headache, and are going to bed. That is all. All the rest we must forget. Nothing but a headache, Mollie, and a headache is not much, so we won't fret about it. If it had been a heartache, and sin and shame and sorrow--but it isn't. But, Mollie,"

they had already reached the house then, and stood upon the steps, and she turned to the girl and put a hand on each of her shoulders, speaking tremulously, "when you go up-stairs, kneel down by your bedside and say your prayers, and thank G.o.d that it is n't,--thank G.o.d that it is n't, with all your heart and soul." And she kissed her cheek softly just as they heard Aimee coming down the hall to open the door.

"Dolly!" she exclaimed when she saw them, "where have you been? Griffith has been here since five, and now he is out looking for you. I had given you up entirely, but he would not. He fancied you had been delayed by something."

"I have been delayed by something," said Dolly, her heart failing her again. "And here is Mollie, with the headache. You had better go to bed, Mollie. How long is it since Grif left the house?"

"Scarcely ten minutes," was the answer. "It is a wonder you did not meet him. Oh, Dolly!" ominously, "how unlucky you are!"

Dolly quite choked in her effort to be decently composed in manner.

"I _am_ unlucky," she said; and without saying more, she made her way into the parlor.

She took her hat off there and tossed it on the sofa, utterly regardless of consequences, and then dropped into her chair and looked round the room. It did not look as she had pictured it earlier in the day. Its cheerfulness was gone, and it looked simply desolate. The fire had sunk low in the grate, and the hearth was strewn with dead ashes;--somehow or other, everything seemed chilled and comfortless. She was too late for the brightness and warmth,--a few hours before it had been bright and warm, and Grif had been there waiting for her. Where was he now?

She dropped her face on the arm of her chair with a sob of disappointed feeling and foreboding. What if he had seen them leave Ralph Gowan, and had gone home!

"It's too bad!" she cried. "It is cruel! I can't bear it! Oh, Grif, _do_ come!" And her tears fell thick and fast.

Ten minutes later she started up with a little cry of joy and relief.

That was his footstep upon the pavement, and before he had time to ring she was at the door. She could scarcely speak to him in her excitement.

"Oh, Grif!" she said; "Grif--darling!"

But he did not offer to touch her, and strode past her outstretched hands.

"Come into this room with me," he said, hoa.r.s.ely; and the simple sound of his voice struck her to the heart like a blow.

She followed him, trembling, and when they stood in the light, and she saw his deathly, pa.s.sion-wrung face, her hand crept up to her side and pressed against it. 9

He had a package in his hand,--a package of letters,--and he laid them down on the table.

"I have been home for these," he said. "Your letters,--I have brought them back to you."

"Grif!" she cried out.

He waved her back.

"No," he said, "never mind that. It is too late for that now, that is all over. Good G.o.d! all over!" and he panted for breath. "I have been in this room waiting for you," he struggled on, "since five o'clock.

I came with my heart full to the brim. I have dreamt about what this evening was to be to us every night for a week. I was ready to kneel and kiss your feet. I waited hour after hour. I was ready to pray--yes, to _pray_, like a fool--that I might hold you in my arms before the night ended. Not half an hour ago I went out to see if you were coming. And you were coming. At the corner of the street you were bidding good-night to--to Ralph Gowan--"

"Listen!" she burst forth. "Mollie was with me--

"Ralph Gowan was with you," he answered her; "it does not matter who else was there. You had spent those hours in which I wanted you with him. That was enough,--nothing can alter that." And then all at once he came and stood near her, and looked down at her with such anguish in his eyes that she could have shrieked aloud. "It was a poor trick to play, Dolly," he said; "so poor a one, that it was scarcely like you. Your coquetries had always a fairer look. The commonest jilt might have done such a thing as that, and almost have done it better. It is an old trick, too, this playing the poor fool against the rich one. The only merit of your play has been that you have kept it up so long."

He was almost mad, but he might have seen that he was trying her too far, and that she would break down all at once. The long strain of the whole evening; his strange, unnatural mood; her struggle against wretchedness--all were too much for her to bear. She tried to speak, and, failing, fought for strength, sobbed thrice, a terrible, hysterical sob, like a child's, and then turned white and s.h.i.+vered, without uttering a word.

"Yes," he said, "a long time, Dolly"--but his sentence was never ended, for that instant she went down as if she had been shot, and lay near his feet quivering for a second, and then lying still.

He was not stayed even then. He bent down and lifted her in his arms and carried her to the sofa, pale himself, but not relenting. He seemed to have lived past the time when the pretty, helpless figure, in all its simple finery, would have stirred him to such ecstasy of pain. He was mad enough to have believed even her helplessness a lie, only that the cruel, ivory pallor was so real. He did not even stoop to kiss her when he turned away. But all the treasure of faith and truth and love had died out of his face, the veriest dullard could have seen; his very youth had dropped away from him, and he left the old, innocent dreams behind, with something like self-scorn.

"Good-by," he said; "we have lost a great deal, Dolly--or I have lost it, I might say. And even you--I believe it pleased even you until better fortune came; so, perhaps, you have lost something, too."

Then he went to the bell and touched it, and, having done so, strode out into the narrow hall, opened the front door and was gone; and when, a few minutes later, Aimee came running down to answer the strange summons, she found only the silent room, Dolly's white, piteous face upon the sofa-cus.h.i.+on, and the great package of those old, sweet, foolish letters upon the table.

CHAPTER XIII ~ A DEAD LETTER.

IT was all over,--all over at last. Dolly's first words had said this much when she opened her eyes, and found Aimee bending over her.

"Has he gone?" she had asked. "Did he go away and leave me?"

"Do you mean Grif?" said Aimee.

She made a weak gesture of a.s.sent.

"Yes," Aimee answered. "He must have gone. I heard the bell ring, and found you lying here when I came to see what it meant."

"Then," said Dolly, "all is over,--all is over at last." And she turned her face upon the cus.h.i.+on and lay so still that she scarcely seemed to breathe.

"Take another drink of water, Dolly," said Aimee, keeping back her questions with her usual discretion. "You must, dear."

But Dolly did not stir.

"I don't want any more," she said. "I am not going to faint again. You have no need to be afraid. I don't easily faint, you know, and I should not have fainted just now only--that the day has been a very hard one for me, and somehow I lost strength all at once. I am not ill,--only worn out."

"You must be very much worn out, then," said Aimee; "more worn out than I ever saw you before. You had better let me help you up-stairs to bed."

"I don't want to go to bed yet!" in a strange, choked voice, and the next moment Aimee saw her hands clench themselves and her whole frame begin to shake. "Shut the door and lock it," she said, wildly. "I can't stop myself. Give me some sal volatile. I can't breathe." And such a fit of suffocating sobbing came upon her that she writhed and battled for air.

Aimee flung herself upon her knees by her side, shedding tears herself.

"Oh, Dolly," she pleaded, "Dolly, darling, don't. Try to help yourself against it. I know what the trouble is. He went away angry and disappointed, and it has frightened you. Oh, please don't, darling. He will come back to-morrow; he will, indeed. He always does, you know, and he will be so sorry."

"He has gone forever," Dolly panted, when she could speak. "He will never come back. To-night has been different from any other time. No,"