Dorian Part 25

"You startled me."

"Yes; I suppose I did. It was rather strange, this coming so suddenly on to you. I've been looking for you quite a while."

"I don't understand why you have been looking for me."

"You know why, Carlia."

"I don't."

"You're just talking to be talking--but here, this sounds like quarreling, and we don't want to do that so soon, do we?"

"No, I guess not."

"Won't you sit down."

The girl reached for a chair, then seated herself.

"The folks are anxious about you. When can you go home?"

"I'm not going home."

"Not going home? Why not? Who are these people, and what are you doing here?"

"These are good people, and they treat me fine. I'm going to stay--here."

"But I don't see why. Of course, it's none of my business; but for the sake of your father and mother, you ought to go home."

"How--how are they!"

"They are as well as can be expected. You've never written them, have you, nor ever told where you were. They do not know whether you are dead or alive. That isn't right."

The girl turned her bowed head slightly, but did not speak, so he continued: "The whole town has been terribly aroused about you. You disappeared so suddenly and completely. Your father has done everything he could think of to find you. When he gave up, I took up the task, and here you are in the hills not so far from Greenstreet."

Carlia's eyes swam with tears. The kitchen door opened, and the woman looked at Carlia and then at Dorian.

"Breakfast is ready," she announced. "Come, Miss Davis, and have your friend come too."

Dorian explained that he had already eaten.

"Please excuse me just now," pleaded Carlia, to the woman. "Go eat your breakfast without me. Mrs. Carlston, this is Mr. Trent, a neighbor of ours at my home. I was foolish to be so scared of him. He--he wouldn't hurt anyone." She tried bravely to smile.

Alone again, the two were ill at ease. A flood of memories, a confusion of thoughts and feelings swept over Dorian. The living Carlia in all her attractive beauty was before him, yet back of her stood the grim skeleton. Could he close his eyes to that? Could he let his love for her overcome the repulsion which would arise like a black cloud into his thoughts? Well, time alone would tell. Just now he must be kind to her, he must be strong and wise. Of what use is strength and wisdom if it is unfruitful at such times as these? Dorian arose to his feet and stood in the strength of his young manhood. He seemed to take Carlia with him, for she also stood looking at him with her s.h.i.+ning eyes.

"Well, Carlia," he said, "go get your breakfast, and I'll finish my errand. You see, the storm stopped the mail carrier and me and we had to put up at your neighbour's last night. There I found three children greatly disappointed in not having their usual Christmas tree. I promised I would get them one this morning, and that's what I was out for when I saw you. You know, Carlia, it's Christmas Eve this morning, if you'll allow that contradiction."

"Yes, I know."

"I'll come back for you. And mind, you do not try to escape. I'll be watching the house closely. Anyway," he laughed lightly, "the snow's too deep for you to run very far."

"O, Dorian--"

"Yes."

He came toward her, but she with averted face, slipped toward the kitchen door.

"I can't go home, I can't go with you--really, I can't," she said. "You go back home and tell the folks I'm all right now, won't you, please."

"We'll talk about that after a while. I must get that tree now, or those kiddies will think I am a rank impostor." Dorian looked at his watch.

"Why, it's getting on toward noon. So long, for the present."

Dorian found and cut a fairly good tree. The children were at the window when he appeared, and great was their joy when they saw him carry it to the woodshed and make a stand for it, then bring it in to them. The mail carrier was about ready to continue his journey, and he asked Dorian if he was also ready. But Dorian had no reason for going on further; he had many reasons for desiring to remain. And here was the Christmas tree, not dressed, nor the candy made. How could he disappoint these children?

"I wonder," he said to the mother, "if it would be asking too much to let me stay here until tomorrow. I'm in no hurry, and I would like to help the children with the tree, as I promised. I've been hindered some this morning, and--"

"Stay," shouted the children who had heard this. "Stay, do stay."

"You are more than welcome," replied Mrs. Hickson; "but I fear that the children are imposing on you."

Dorian a.s.sured her that the pleasure was his, and after the mail carrier had departed, he thought it wise to explain further.

"A very strange thing has happened," said Dorian. "As I was going after the tree for the children, I met the young lady who is staying at Mrs.

Carlston."

"Miss Davis."

"Yes; she's a neighbor of mine. We grew up together as boy and girl.

Through some trouble, she left home, and--in fact, I have been searching for her. I am going to try to get her to go home to her parents.

She--she could help us with our tree dressing this evening."

"We'd like to have both our neighbors visit with us," said Mrs. Hickson; "but the snow is rather deep for them."

By the middle of the afternoon Dorian cleared a path to the neighboring house, and then went stamping on to the porch. Carlia opened the door and gave him a smiling welcome. She had dressed up a bit, he could see, and he was pleased with the thought that it was for him. Dorian delivered the invitation to the two women. Carlia would go immediately to help, and Mrs. Carlston would come later. Carlia was greeted by the children as a real addition to their company.

"Did you bring an extra of stockings?" asked Mrs. Hickson of her. "An up-to-date Santa Claus is going to visit us tonight, I am sure." She glanced toward Dorian, who was busy with the children and the tree.

That was a Christmas Eve long to be remembered by all those present in that house amid solitude of snow, of mountain, and of pine forests. The tree, under the magic touches of Dorian and Carlia grew to be a thing of beauty, in the eyes of the children. The home-made candles and decorations were p.r.o.nounced to be as good as the "boughten ones." And the candy--what a miracle worker this sober-laughing, ruddy-haired young fellow was!

Carlia could not resist the spirit of cheer. She smiled with the older people and laughed with the children. How good it was to laugh again, she thought. When the tree was fully ablaze, all, with the exception of Mr. Hickson joined hands and danced around it. Then they had to taste of the various and doubtful makings of candies, and ate a bread-pan of snow-white popcorn sprinkled with melted b.u.t.ter. Then Mr. Hickson told some stories, and his wife in a clear, sweet voice led the children in some Christmas songs. Oh, it was a real Christmas Eve, made doubly joyful by the simple helpfulness and kindness of all who took part.

At the close of the evening, Dorian escorted Mrs. Carlston and Carlia back to their house, and the older woman graciously retired, leaving the parlor and the glowing log to the young people.

They sat in the big armchairs facing the grate.

"We've had a real nice Christmas Eve, after all," said he.

"Yes."

"Our Christmas Eves at home are usually quiet. I'm the only kid there, and I don't make much noise. Frequently, just mother and Uncle Zed and I made up the company; and then when we could get Uncle Zed to talking about Jesus, and explain who He was, and tell his story before He came to this earth as the Babe of Bethlehem, there was a real Christmas spirit present. Yes; I believe you were with us on one of these occasions."