Page 17 of The Brown Study

  THE TIME OF HIS LIFE

  "Dot, do you remember Kirke Waldron?"

  Dorothy Broughton, daintily manipulating her breakfast grapefruit, hershapely young arm showing interesting curves through the muslin and laceof her morning gown--made by her own clever fingers--looked up at herbrother Julius. He was keeping her company at her late and solitarybreakfast, sitting casually on the arm of his brother-in-law's emptychair, his long legs crossed, his arms folded upon his chest. His brighteyes surveyed his sister as he spoke, from the crown of her carefullyordered hair to the tips of her white shoes--he could see them from hisposition at one side, and he observed that they were as white and asfresh as her gown. That was one of the things Julius heartily approved ofin his pretty sister--her fastidiousness in such matters. He wasfastidious himself to a degree; nothing more correct in its way than hisown morning attire could have been imagined.

  "Waldron?" Dorothy repeated. "That tall, solemn boy who used to stumbleover himself on his way to the blackboard?"

  "And then had the rest of the class looking like a set of dough-headswhile he covered the blackboard with neat little figures that alwayscame out right; a perfect shark at 'math.' Yes, he's the one. Fiveclasses ahead of us then--fifteen now. We aren't in it, any of us, withKirkie Waldron these days."

  "I've never heard nor thought of him since then," averred his sister. "Doyou mean he's made something of himself? I should never have thought it."

  "No, you'd never have thought it, because he stumbled over his own feetwhen he was a kid. Well, let me tell you it's the only thing he's everstumbled over. He's just been taken into the office of Haynes andArdmore, consulting mining engineers, and everybody says that'll mean apartnership some day. And that brings me to my point. He hasn't taken aday's vacation for two years. Day after to-morrow he sails for SouthAmerica to stay six months, looking after the development of a new minedown there in Colombia. He can take to-morrow for a holiday, and I'veasked him out--with Bud's permission. And I want you to help me give himthe time of his life."

  "Me?" Dorothy opened her brown eyes. "Oh, but I can't give you to-morrow!The bridal party's going on an all-day motor trip."

  Julius ran his hand through the crisp, half-curly locks of his blackhair. "Cut it out. You don't need to be on every last one of theirjunketings. Get 'em to let you off for to-morrow."

  "I can't possibly. I'm to be maid of honour, you know. Irene would neverforgive me, nor--some of the others."

  Julius frowned. "See here, you're not letting Ridge Jordan get anyheadway with you, are you? If you are you'd certainly better make himtake a day off while you see what a real man is like. After you've had agood look at Kirke Waldron you'll be ready to let Tom Wendell and RidgeJordan and the rest of those bridal party men go to thunder. I don'tsuppose Waldron was ever an usher or best man at a wedding in his life,but I tell you he'll make every one of those little society men look likecopper cents, just the same."

  Dorothy rose from her chair. Her brown eyes surveyed her brother frombetween heavy chestnut lashes, and just now they were very haughty eyes.Her curving, crimson lips were scornful. "I find it difficult tobelieve," she observed, "that a boy whom I particularly detested, one ofthe most awkward, solemn-faced, uninteresting boys I ever saw in my life,can have blossomed into such a wonder. As for Ridgeway Jordan, I like himvery much. He may be a society man--which is no crime, I believe--but heis also making quite as good, in his way, as your friend, Mr. Waldron.And I certainly am not going to throw over an engagement as binding asthis one to give anybody 'the time of his life.'"

  She walked out of the room, cancelling the effect of her haughtiness byturning to throw back a smile at her brother, as ravishing a smile as ifhe were no brother at all.

  Her sister, Mrs. Jack Elliot, entering in time to glance curiouslyfrom Dorothy's smile to Julius's scowl, inquired of Julius what mightbe the matter.

  He shook his head. "I don't like the symptoms. She takes it more and moreseriously when I hit Ridge Jordan in any way. I like Ridge myself, but Iwouldn't see Dot marry him for a good deal."

  "I don't believe there is the least danger," his elder sister replied.She looked a mere girl herself. She was immolating herself just now, aswas everybody else in the suburban town, on the altar of theClifford-Jordan bridal party. That the dinners and dances, drives andluncheons might proceed without hindrance many family schedules werebeing upset. Mrs. Jack's one anxiety at present was to have her charmingsister's bloom remain unworn by fatigue. Thus far Dorothy was holdingout better than any of the other bridesmaids. "Her colour was just asgood as ever, wasn't it?" Mrs. Jack murmured absently, preparing toremove Dorothy's fruit plate. "I don't believe she ate a thing butfruit," she murmured.

  "Best thing she could do. After the stuff she undoubtedly got away withat midnight her only salvation's a light breakfast. As to her colour, Ienriched it," he explained grimly, "by mentioning my feeling about Ridge.If I thought, after all the attentions that girl has had, that she'd takeRidge Jordan--with all his money! Dot's no girl to care such a lot aboutmoney. It's this crazy bridal-party business that's upset her, I'll goyou! The thing's contagious. Lord Harry! I don't know that I could looklong at Irene and Harold myself without getting a touch of it."

  "A touch! You and Sally?" Mrs. Jack smiled.

  "Oh, well; that's different." Her brother thrust his hands into hispockets and walked over to the window. "Entirely different. Sally and Iwere intended for each other from the beginning; everybody knows that.But now--what in thunder am I going to do with Waldron? Tell me that.I've got him to come down here expressly to meet Dot. Of course I didn'ttell him so; he's not that sort. And now she's off for all to-morrow withthat confounded bridal party."

  "Can't he come some other time?"

  "I should say not; certainly not for months. He's off to South Americafor a long stay--has this one day to himself. You see it wasn't till Imet him yesterday that I realized what the fellow had become; and then itcame over me all at once what it might mean to have him meet Dot justnow. I'm no matchmaker--"

  "I should say that is just what you are!"

  "No; but--'There is a tide,' you know. And Dot certainly has me worriedto death over Ridge Jordan."

  "But, Julius"--Mrs. Jack's voice took on a tinge of anxiety--"we'vealways thought well of Ridge. I don't just see--"

  "I know you don't. He's not the man for Dot. I want a real man for her.I've got him. Wait till you see Kirke!"

  "You seem to think it's very simple--"

  "By George, I think it is! I know how he felt about her when she was ayoungster: adored the ground she walked on. She never looked at him. Itell you she'll look at him now; he's worth looking at."

  "If he's so fine looking he may be engaged to some other girl."

  "He's not. I made sure of that," declared Julius, audacity gleaming inhis eyes as usual. "Besides, I tell you, he's not that sort. He's nomatinee idol for looks; maybe you wouldn't even call him good looking.I do; he's got the goods in his face, handsome or not. I tell you he'sa real man. Dot hasn't seen one yet. I'll make her see Kirke--somehow.You wait."

  He marched away, head up, eyes thoughtful, lips pursed in a whistle.

  Next morning, when three luxurious motor cars stopped at Mrs. Jack'sdoor, Julius was lounging on the porch. It was his Senior vacation; hecould be forgiven for lounging. In his flannels, hands in pockets, hestrolled down the steps with his sister to see her off, though RidgewayJordan was escorting her devotedly. He surveyed her, as he followed her,with brotherly pride.

  "That sister of mine has all the rest of them beaten at thequarter-mile," was his inward reflection. "Not much money to do it on,but she certainly knows how to get herself up to look as if she'd justwalked out of a tailor's box and a milliner's bandbox. Made that stunnerof a hat herself, I'll wager. Fresh as a peach, her face, too. The otherslook a bit jaded."

  Along with these inner comments he was keeping up a running fire oftalk with two of the bridesmaids, whom he knew well. His bright blackeyes, ho
wever, noted that Dorothy's place in the first car was nextthat of Ridgeway Jordan, and that the face of that young man wassoberer than usual.

  "Bad sign," he reflected as he turned away, after a hot-and-heavyexchange of banter with certain of the men as the car prepared to start."When a chap begins to look solemn, sitting beside a girl you know he'sin love with, you can be sure he has it on his mind to have it out withher before the day is over. If I could have just got Kirke to heryesterday! Ridge may do it any time now; I can see it in his eye--and shemay take him. I don't know what's got into Dot. A month ago she'd havelaughed at the idea of marrying him; but now I can't be sure of her.It's this idiotic bridal hysteria that's got her in its grip. By George,she _shan't_ take him!"

  An hour later, in his brother-in-law's trap, Julius drove to the stationto meet his guest. Kirke Waldron, descending from the train, found hisold schoolmate, younger than himself, but well remembered as the imp ofthe High School, waiting for him on the station platform.

  "Mighty glad to be sure of you," Julius declared, shaking hands. "Until Iactually caught sight of you I was still expecting a wire saying youcouldn't afford even the one day."

  "The coast is clear," Waldron answered, returning the grip with equalvigor. "I closed every account at midnight and have my one day asfree as air."

  "The question is," Julius lost no time in beginning, as the two walkedalong the trim, flower-bordered suburban platform toward the waitingtrap, "what sort of a day do you want? Outdoors, of course; no questionof that in hot weather. But--with people or away from them? I can takeyou to my sister's for luncheon; to tell the truth, she's counting onthat. But afterward I have a little plan to carry you up into themountains to a place I know for an all-afternoon tramp and a dinner atthe best little inn in the country. Back in the late evening, a dash downto our river and a swim by moonlight. How does that programme suit you?"

  "It's great," agreed Kirke Waldron decidedly. "Nothing could suit mebetter. Vacation, to me, means outdoors always. And it's a long timesince I've done any tramping in the home State."

  "I knew you weren't one of the hammock-and-novel vacation sort," Juliussaid as he put his new-old friend into the trap. "I'm not myself.Though"--he confessed with honesty--"I have been known to sit with myheels in the air for a longer consecutive period than you've ever done ifall your sittings were lumped together."

  "What do you know as to where I've kept my heels?"

  "On the ground, planting one before the other without rest, day in andday out, ever since I first knew you. That's why you're where you are;it doesn't take a soothsayer to tell that."

  Waldron laughed. "You're a flatterer," he said.

  Julius shook his head. "Not a bit of it. It's written all over you. If Igot caught in the middle of an earthquake anywhere, and the groundstopped shaking and I looked around me to find out what to do next, andmy eye fell on you out of hundreds bunched around me, I shouldsimply--follow you out of the mess!"

  "That's a great tribute," Waldron admitted, "from a fellow whom I used toknow as the cleverest at getting himself out of scrapes of all the boyswho were resourceful in getting into them."

  "Having exchanged large-sized bouquets," Julius observed with suddengravity, "we will now drive home. Do you know I'm mighty sorry my sisterDorothy isn't there? You remember her, do you?--or maybe you don't. Shewas just a 'kid' with a couple of long tails of hair down her back. Mysecond sister, Barbara--we call her 'Bud'--was in your class, I believe.She remembers you all right; says she was tremendously impressed by theway you slew the fractions on the blackboard. Bud married Jack Elliot, asI told you yesterday; and a great old boy he is, too, for abrother-in-law."

  Discoursing of his family, with occasional mention of his sister Dorothy,Julius took his friend to the Elliot home. Mrs. Jack, fresh and charming,made them welcome. Jack himself, by some happy chance, had been able tocome out for luncheon, and the three men found each other thoroughlycongenial.

  After luncheon Julius contrived a chance to exchange a brief colloquywith Mrs. Jack on the subject of the guest.

  "What do you think of him, Bud? Pretty fine sort to have developed fromthe grub who did the stunts with fractions, with his freckled faceturning lobster colour because you girls were looking at him?"

  "I can't believe he's the same," Mrs. Jack whispered, looking through theopen window at the figure on the porch outside, its side turned towardher. "I haven't seen a man in a long time with so much character in hisface. He's not exactly handsome, but--yes, I certainly do like his facevery much. I wish--I really wish Dot were here."

  "Oh, no, not at all!" Julius objected. "Dot's satisfied with RidgeJordan, or thinks she is. So are you."

  "I have always liked Ridge," Mrs. Jack insisted; "but--well, Mr. Waldronis quite another type."

  "Yes, quite another," Julius murmured, and returned to the porch.

  Before the two took the train for the mountains Julius managed to letWaldron see a photograph of Dorothy. As a matter of fact; photographs ofDorothy were all about the house, but in Julius's own room hung one whichthe brother considered the gem of them all. It showed one of thosestraight-out-of-the-picture faces which are sometimes so attractive, theeyebrows level above the wonderful eyes, the lips serious and sweet, thehead well poised upon the lovely neck, the whole aspect one of youthunconscious of its charm, yet feeling a subtle power of its own.

  Waldron, his attention called to the photograph, surveyed it with a quietcomment: "I should have known she would look like this when she grewup"; and turned away without undue lingering. Yet Julius was satisfiedthat Waldron would know the face again when he saw it, as it was intendedthat he should.

  It was a journey of an hour and a half by rail up into the mountainresort where, by certain artfully veiled investigations, Julius hadascertained that the bridal party would stop for dinner. Schemingjoyously, he led his companion from the train at a station several milesfrom Saxifrage Inn, alighting at a mere flag station in the midst of asemi-wilderness. The promised tramp began without the knowledge of theguest as to where it was to end or hint as to what might be found there.

  Coats over their arms, the two young men swung away upon the trail--awide, much-used trail, which could be followed without difficulty. Thewarm summer air was fragrant with the scent of balsam, pine, and fern;pine needles carpeted the path; faint forest sounds came to theirears--the call of a loon from a distant lake, the whirr of a partridge,the chatter of a squirrel, the splash of falling water. Waldron took offhis straw hat and tucked it under his arm, baring his forehead to thespice-laden breeze that now and then filtered through the forest,stirring languid leaves to motion.

  "Ah, but I'd like to be just setting out on a fortnight of this!" hebreathed. "Dressed for the part, a pack on my back--or a canoe. When Iwas a boy I used to go on long canoeing trips, following our river to itsmouth. I don't like the tropics as well as I do the temperate zones."

  "If you weren't such a tremendous grind you would do it now," Juliusoffered. "A fellow needs a vacation, now and then, if he's to keepin shape."

  Waldron glanced at him, smiling. "So he does. But somehow I've managed tokeep in shape. I inherit from my father a fairly tough constitution, andalso the love of work, the seeing my job through to the finish withoutloss of time. I suspect that's what keeps me going."

  They fell into talk about Waldron's work.

  In answer to Julius's questions Waldron told him a good deal about thework itself--little, as Julius afterward realized, of his own part in it.The miles fell away beneath their steadily marching feet, and in dueseason, by Julius's management, they emerged from the trail at a certainrocky bluff overlooking the distant country, upon which was perched thesmall but county-famous inn where they were to have dinner.

  A string of automobiles stood along the driveway, and among them Juliusreadily recognized the three with which he was familiar as those whichhad been conveying the Clifford-Jordan bridal party to and from itsplaces of entertainment for the last fortnight. No sign of th
e partyitself was to be seen upon the side piazzas which encompassed the inn.But this was easily understood. From some distance away the soundsproceeding from a shrubbery-screened point upon the bluff before theinn betrayed the presence of a company of revellers. This was as itshould be. Even Julius Broughton's audacity was not to be carried tothe point of forcing himself and his friend, uninvited, upon a set ofyoung people already carefully selected and for the time being rigidlyseparated from the rest of mankind by metaphorical white ribbonsstretched to insure privacy.

  Julius left Waldron upon the porch and went into the inn to ascertain, ifmight be, from the management where the bridal party would be dining.Learning, as he had expected, that a private apartment was devoted totheir use, he went to the public dining room and selected a table. Beingearly he was able to secure one in an alcove, looking out through an openwindow upon the path along which the bridal party, returning from thebluff, would be sure to approach. To this he presently led Waldron andseated him so that he faced the path outside, the vista of distantcountryside beyond. The young people of the Clifford-Jordan party were todine at eight, and it lacked only a few minutes of this hour when theyappeared down the path.

  Julius had just given his order and leaned comfortably back in his chairwhen he caught sight of them. "By George!" he ejaculated. "Well, well! so_this_ is where they've come! Been mighty mysterious about where theymeant to spend the day, but we've caught 'em. Started in the oppositedirection this morning, too--just for a blind. You see there are a lot ofpractical jokers among Clifford's friends, and their attentions haven'tbeen confined to the hour of the wedding itself. I say, recognize thegirl in the lead with the bride's brother, that light-haired fellow?"

  Drawing back so that he was concealed by the curtains of the windowWaldron looked out at the approaching bevy of young people. Up the paththey came, talking, laughing, shifting like a pattern in a kaleidoscope,gay, handsome, sophisticated, modishly dressed, unconventionallymannered, yet showing, most of them, the traces of that youthful ennui sooften betrayed in these modern days by those who of all the world shouldfeel it least.

  Julius's brotherly eye rested upon his sister, as it had done thatmorning, with cool satisfaction. Some of the girls looked in disarray,hair tumbled, frocks rumpled, faces burned. Dorothy's simple white sergesuit was unmussed, her hair was trim under her plain white hat with itsblack velvet band, her colour was even, her dark eyes clear. AlthoughRidgeway Jordan was bestowing upon her the most devoted attentions, hiseyes constantly seeking--but seldom finding--hers, she was showing noconsciousness of it beyond the little, curving, half-smile with which shewas answering him. In a word, her brother felt, Dot was sweet--strongand sweet and unspoiled--fascinating, too, being a woman and not withoutguile. Didn't she know--of course she did--that it was just thatnoncommittal attitude of hers, amused and pleased and interested, butunimpressed by their regard, that drew the men like a magnet?

  Behind Dorothy and young Jordan one of the bridesmaids, anextraordinarily pretty girl, was laughing hysterically, clutching at herattendant's sleeve and then pushing him away. He was laughing withher--and at her--and his eyes, all the time, were following DorothyBroughton. It seemed to Julius, as the party came on, that most of thegirls were behaving foolishly--and quite all the men. Perhaps it wasbecause they had all seen so much of each other during these days andnights of merry-making that they had reached the borders of a dangerousfamiliarity. A little tired of one another most of them had become, itwas more than probable. Against this background Dorothy showed easilythe most distinction of them all; she looked in her simple attire,contrasted with the elaborate costumes of the other bridesmaids, like ayoung princess reigning over a too frivolous suite.

  Kirke Waldron looked, unperceived, out of his window, and Julius, turninghis eyes from the picture before him, observed his friend. Waldron's facewas not what might be called an expressive one; it was the face of a manwho had learned not to show what he might be feeling. There was no maskthere; only cool and balanced control, coupled with the keenestobservation. But Julius imagined that Waldron's close-set lips relaxed alittle as he stared at Dorothy.

  The party came on into the inn; the sound of their voices and laughterdied away. Some young people at a table near, who also had beenlooking out of a window, made various comments to which Julius listenedwith interest.

  "Swell-looking lot. Wonder who they are."

  "Must be the bridal party they have here to-night. Dining privately."

  "Awfully pretty girls," was one young woman's opinion; "better lookingthan the men. Why are the men in bridal parties never as good looking asyou expect?"

  "Bridegroom doesn't want himself cut out. He has no advantage of a veiland train; he has to stand out in his raw black and white and competewith the other men on his own merits."

  "I wonder if that was the bride, that prettiest girl in front."

  "Don't know. Probably. If she is, the chap's lucky who gets her."

  Julius felt a desire to get up and explain that his sister was nobody'sbride, and wasn't going to be anybody's until the right man came along.Instead he sat still and stared at his plate. As he had watched hissister coming toward him, with Ridgeway Jordan beside her looking intoher face with that look of eager hopefulness, he had experienced apowerful longing to go out and lead Ridge away to some secluded spot andexplain to him that he wasn't good enough. It wasn't as if there wereanything against young Jordan; there was certainly nothing specific.Julius found himself wishing there were.

  Upon the bluff in the cool darkness the two young men spent the followinghour, enjoying to the full the refreshing, woods-laden breath of thenight air, their pipes sending up clouds of fragrant smoke and keepingthem free from the onslaughts of the insects which otherwise at thathour would have been very annoying. From time to time Julius lightedmatches and consulted the unrelenting face of his watch. They did nottalk much; it was a time for silence and the comradeship of silence.

  The station at which the tram would stop was not a dozen rods from thehotel. Until the last minute, therefore, they could linger. But at halfafter nine Julius sprang up.

  "Let's go back to the hotel and wait on the porch," he proposed.

  The two paced back to the porch, which hummed with talk. The whole smallcompany of the inn's few permanent guests was gathered there, obviouslyto see the bridal party when it should appear and take to its motors.There was not much to amuse hotel guests up here in the mountains; theycould not afford to miss so interesting a departure.

  From not far in the distance suddenly a whistle pierced the night air."I say, that's too bad!" cried Julius low to his friend. "I hoped they'dcome out before you had to go and you could meet Dot. Just our luck!"

  "We'd better be off," said Waldron, and he led the way. It was a flagstation, as he had learned, and he could not afford to lose the train. Itwould be after midnight before he could get back to the city as it was,and he was to leave the city at nine in the morning for his long absence.

  Someone was waving a lantern as they approached the station. The foresthid the track in both directions, but the roar of the nearing train couldnow be plainly heard.

  Walking fast, a trifle in advance, Waldron suddenly turned and spoke overhis shoulder: "I suppose my ears deceive me, but that certainly sounds asif it were coming from the wrong direction."

  "Your ears do deceive you, of course," Julius responded. "All soundsare queer in the night. Still--by George! it certainly does seem tocome from--"

  The train, puffing and panting from its pull up the grade, now showed itsheadlight through the trees. There was no question about it, it wascoming from the wrong direction, and therefore, unquestionably, was goingin the wrong direction.

  "Must be two trains pass here," cried Julius, and he ran ahead to thehotel hand who was still waving his lantern, although the train wasslowing to a standstill. "There's another train to-night?" he questioned.

  "No, sir. This one's all the' is to-night."

  Julius turned and
looked at his friend. "Well, I certainly have got youinto a nice scrape," he said solemnly.

  "It looks like it," Waldron answered shortly. "The thing is now, how toget out of it. We must hire something and drive back--or to a stationsomewhere."

  They debated the question. They hurried back to the office andinterviewed the management, which shook its head dubiously. The littlemountain resort was far from stations where trains could be had for thecity fifty miles away. The inn had no conveyance to offer except one workteam of horses and a wagon, guests invariably coming by train or motor.There were three automobiles out on the driveway, but they belonged tothe bridal party. There had been other automobiles, but they had all leftsoon after dinner, their passengers having come for the dinner only, andproceeding on their way in time to make some other stopping place bybedtime. There seemed to be no way to get Waldron back except to ask afavour of Ridgeway Jordan.

  Kirke Waldron knit his brows when Julius made this suggestion as a lastresort. "I certainly hate to ask such a favour in the circumstances," hesaid. "But it's a case of 'must.' I wouldn't miss that ship to-morrowmorning for any sum you could name; I can't miss it."

  "I'll call Ridge out," said Julius promptly, "or--well, good luck! herehe comes."

  Wheeling, he advanced to meet a slim young man who was hurrying down thewide staircase to the lobby. Jordan's first glance was one ofastonishment, his second of suspicion. The reputation of Julius Broughtonfor mischief, particularly at times like these, was one not to be lightlyoverlooked. But Julius's air of earnestness was disarming.

  "No joking, Ridge," he said. "Mr. Waldron and I wandered over here on along tramp. Dot wouldn't tell me where you people were going. We meant totake the train at nine forty-five, but--well, you know timetables. Itturned out to be an up train instead of a down train. It was all myfault. It wouldn't matter, but Mr. Waldron will miss a more thanimportant engagement with a ship sailing for South America if he doesn'tget back to catch the eleven-fifty to town. You see there isn't aconveyance here--"

  But of course there was no need to explain further. Jordan was agentleman, and even if he had doubted Julius there was no doubting theexpression in the eyes of the man to whom Julius now presented him. YoungJordan knew a man of serious affairs when he saw one; unquestionably hesaw one now. He promptly offered seats in one of the cars.

  Waldron expressed his regret that they should be obliged to forcethemselves upon a private party, and Jordan assured him that it would bea pleasure to serve them, although he said it with one more appraisingglance at Julius. He added that he would take them in his own car, thatbeing the only one which had two seats to spare. As Julius had noted thisfact in the morning he was not surprised, only grateful that he had nothad to scheme for this distribution of the company.

  Jordan went to the desk and gave an order, then returned to hisparty upstairs.

  Julius and Waldron retired to the porch.

  Presently the party came trooping out, arrayed for the trip. Dorothy inan enveloping white coat, her hat replaced by a particularly effectivelittle rose-coloured bonnet of her own clever manufacture, found herselfconfronted upon the lantern-lighted porch, as she was about to step intothe car, by her brother with a strange man at his elbow.

  She looked straight up at him, as Julius presented him. He lookedstraight down at her, and for an appreciable period of time the two pairsof eyes continued to dwell upon each other. Until this extraordinarilythorough mutual survey was over neither said a word. The rest of theparty, diverting themselves with the usual laughter and badinage--someof it of a recognizably sleepy character--took their places, and onlythose nearest noted the addition to the list of passengers. The other manand girl of Jordan's car were an engaged pair, absorbed in each other, anastute reason for his selection of them to accompany himself and Dorothy.

  The rear seat of the great car easily held four people. Ashworth and MissVincent occupied two of the places; during the day Jordan and Dorothy hadheld the other two. Ashworth had already handed in Miss Vincent. The twochaperons of the party young Jordan had throughout the day thoughtfullybestowed in the other cars.

  "Put my friend beside Sis, will you, Ridge?" suggested Julius in hishost's ear. "They used to be old schoolmates and haven't met for years.He's off to-morrow for a long stay. It's their only chance to talk overold times."

  Jordon nodded; there was nothing else to do. He could joyfully havetaken his friend Julius by the scruff of his neck and hurled him out intothe night, if by some miracle he could suddenly have become that youngman's superior in strength. But social training prevailed over naturalbrute instinct, and it was with entire politeness that he made thisarrangement of his guests.

  He then put Julius into the seat beside the chauffeur, and himself tookone of the extra folding seats, swinging it about to half face those uponthe rear seat. In this manner he was nearly as close to Miss DorothyBroughton as he would have been beside her--nearly, but not quite! To hisnotion there was all the difference in the world.

  Kirke Waldron, understanding intuitively the position as come-between inwhich he had been placed in Ridgeway Jordan's big automobile by Julius'smisreading of the railway timetable, and, as far as that part of thesituation was concerned, wishing himself a hundred miles away, was alsokeenly alive to that which the gods--and Julius--had given him by seatinghim beside Dorothy. As the car hummed down the long trail from the inn heplayed his part with all the discretion of which he was capable; and hehad learned many things since the days when he had fallen over his ownawkward feet on the way to the blackboard. He talked a little withDorothy--not too much; he talked considerably more with RidgewayJordan--but not more than was necessary; the greater part of the time hewas silent with the rest, as was most fitting of all in the summermoonlight and the balmy night air.

  Dorothy, sitting beside him, reminded Julius, as from time to time heglanced contentedly back at her from, his place beside the chauffeur, ofa particularly demure kitten in the presence of two well-bred butdefinitely intentioned hunting dogs. She was very quiet, and only now andthen he caught a word or two from her or the low sound of her attractivecontralto laugh.

  Just once, as the car whirled through a brightly lighted square in asmall village where a country festival of some sort was in progress, hesaw her take advantage of a moment when everybody's attention was caughtby the scene, and look suddenly and absorbedly at Kirke Waldron's face inprofile. But when Ridge Jordan whirled about upon his folding seat, tocall her attention to the antics of a clown in the square, she was readyfor him with a smile and a gay word of assent. Julius laughed to himself.There was no question that Kirke's face, even in profile, was one to makeRidge's look insignificant. As for the man himself--

  The car, rushing on through the summer night, its powerful searchlightssending ahead a long, clear lane of safety where the road was straight,but making the dark walls on either side resolve into black pockets ofmystery where the curves came, approached one of those long, windingdescents, followed by a second abrupt turn and a corresponding ascent,which are--or should be--the terror of motorists. All good drivers, atsuch places, hurling themselves through the darkness, sound warningsignals, lest other cars, less cautious, be rushing toward them withoutsound of their coming.

  Jordan's chauffeur, sending his car on down the winding hill with hardlyappreciable loss of speed, took this precaution, and the mellow butchallenging notes of his horn were winding a long warning when the thinghappened which was to happen. No accident, but the horror of one whichcomes so close that it all but seizes its victims, and leaves them weakand shuddering with what might have been.

  Another car dashed around the lower turn, apparently not hearing thewarning, or determined to ignore it, that no momentum with which to climbthe steep grade coming should be lost. There was an instant in which thetwo drivers glimpsed each other out of the gloom of the unlighted curve;then quick action upon the part of both--lightning-like swerves to avoidthe danger--two great cars rocking each on the brink of disaster, thenr
ighting themselves and running on into safety, no pausing to let anylook back and ponder upon the closeness of the escape.

  It was all over so quickly that it was like the swift passage of ahideous thought, but there had been time for every soul in the car tolook death in the face. And in that moment of peril there had beenindividual action--instantaneous--the action which is instinctive andborn of character.

  Julius himself had sat absolutely still beside the chauffeur, his musclestensely bracing themselves for whatever might come. Ashworth had caughtMiss Vincent, rigid with fear, into his arms. Waldron, throwing up thearm next to Dorothy to grasp her with it, felt her hand leap toward him,and with his free hand seized it in his own.

  Staring straight ahead then they saw a strange thing, yet not so strangewhen one remembers human nature. Ridgeway Jordan had leaped to his feetand thrown one leg over the side of the car ready to jump, when, beforehe could complete the movement, the car righted itself and he sank backinto his seat.

  "Holy smoke!" Julius murmured under his breath, and glanced at thechauffeur.

  That nearly imperturbable youth grunted in return. His hands were steadyupon the wheel, but he laughed a little shakily.

  Then Julius gazed back into the depths of the car. He could not see much,for the trees at this point were heavily overshadowing the road, but hemade out that Ridge Jordan was sitting stiffly in his seat, with--strangeto observe!--his head turned toward the front of the car. Behind him theother figures were still and silent. Julius guessed that nobody felt likespeaking; he did not feel like it himself. It had been a little too neara thing to discuss at first hand.

  Dorothy, her heart beating in a queer, throat-choking way, becameconscious that her hand was held close and warm in another hand. An armthat had been about her, whose clasp she had not consciously felt butnow remembered, had been withdrawn at the moment that the danger hadpassed. But evidently--for the car had now gone a quarter of a milebeyond the crucial point and was running smoothly along a wider and lessdangerous highway--her hand had been imprisoned in this strange graspfor some time.

  She made a gentle but decided effort to withdraw it, an effort whichsecured its release at once but brought a low question in her ear:

  "Are you all right?"

  "I--think so," she murmured in reply.

  It was not only the shock of the just avoided danger which held her inits grip, but the other and even more startling revelations which hadcome with it. Her head was whirling, her pulses were thrilling with theconflict of new and strange impressions. Since three minutes ago a newHeaven and an old earth had suddenly shown themselves.

  The low voice pressed the question: "Not faint--nor frightened?"

  She looked up at him then for an instant, although she could barely seethe outlines of his face. "Not with you here," she answered breathlessly,with the impulse toward absolute honesty with which such an experiencesometimes shakes the spirit out of its conventionalities.

  He was like a statue beside her for the space of six of her heartbeats.Then his hand again found hers, pressed it in both of his, and let itgo; and his quiet speech, the note deeper than before, came once morein her ear:

  "I shall never forget that."

  They went on in silence.

  After a time Ridge Jordan turned about and made a carefully wordedinquiry into the comfort of his guests, which they answered with ascareful assurances that they were entirely comfortable and confident.

  Ridge's voice was not quite natural. A biting shame was harassing him,whose only alleviation was the possibility that nobody--or at leastDorothy--had noticed in the excitement of the part that he had played.He was saying to himself, wretchedly, that he had not known it ofhimself, that he could not have believed it of himself. How could hehave done it--have had the impulse, even, to leap to safety and leaveher behind? Had she seen--had she seen? Yet when, after a time, sheleaned forward and spoke to him of her own accord, her voice was sokind, rang with such a golden note, that he felt with sudden reliefthat she could not have seen.

  He turned about and began to talk again, growing more and more secure inhis belief that at the supreme moment of danger nobody had thought ofanybody but himself or herself, and by the time the car drew into thehome town Jordan was serene again.

  Under the first of the arc lights Julius took counsel with his watch. Heswung about and spoke tersely: "You and I'd better jump out here and makethe station, Waldron. It's closer to train time than I thought. We'reawfully obliged to you, Ridge."

  "We'll go that way. It's only a block or two out of our course," Jordaninsisted, eager to speed the parting guest.

  The car drew toward the string of electrics which lighted the smallsuburban station at which Waldron had arrived in the morning. Theglancing, silver-arrowed radiance illumined the whole interior of thecar under its wide-spreading, hooded top. Waldron could see Dorothy'sbrilliant eyes, the curve of her lips, the rose colour in her cheeksrepeating warmly the deeper rose colour of the little silk bonnet whichkept her dark hair in order--all but one wild-willed little curly strandwhich had escaped and was blowing about her face. Dorothy, in her turn,could see Waldron's clean-cut, purposeful face, his deep-set eyes, themodelling of his strong mouth and chin, the fine line of his cheek.

  As they had looked at each other when they first met, so they looked ateach other again before they parted. Yet between that meeting and thatparting something had happened. It was in his eyes as he looked at her;it was in her eyes as for one instant, before she dropped bewilderinglashes, she gave him back his look. It meant that South America was notso far away but that a voyager could come back over the same high seaswhich had conveyed him there. And that when he came--

  "I'm grateful to you, Mr. Jordan," Waldron said, shaking hands beside thecar, "more than I can say to you. You have done me a greater kindnessthan you know. Good-night--to you all!"

  He went away with Julius without a glance behind after the salute of hislifted hat, which included everybody.

  By some common impulse the rest of the party all looked after the two asthey walked away toward the station door.

  "Seems like an uncommonly nice chap," was Ashworth's comment. "I'll wagerhe's something, somewhere."

  "He has a very interesting face," his fiancee conceded.

  "Yes, hasn't he?" Dorothy agreed lightly, something evidently beingexpected of her.

  "He may be the tenth wonder of the world," declared Ridgeway Jordan,springing in to take his old place beside her for the drive of an eighthof a mile left to him; "but I grudge him this hour by you. Jove, but Ithought the drive would never end!"

  Julius, after seeing his friend off with a sense of comradeship moreworth while than any he had known, walked rapidly back, eager for a wordwith Dorothy. Quick as he was, however, she was quicker, and he found herlocked into her own room. By insisting on talking through the door he gother to open it, but there was not so much satisfaction in this as he hadexpected, because she had extinguished her lights.

  "How did you like him?" was his first eager question.

  "Very well," said a cool, low voice in the darkness. "Much better thanthe trick you used to carry out your wishes."

  "Trick!" her brother exclaimed, all the angel innocence he could summonin his voice. "When you wouldn't tell me a word of where you were going!"

  "You guessed it. It was abominable of you."

  "Oh, see here! If I hadn't managed it you wouldn't have seen him--and hewouldn't have seen you."

  "And what of that?" queried the cool voice, cool but sweet. Dot's voice,even in real anger, was never harsh.

  "Well, what of it?" was the counter-question. "Can you honestly say youwish you hadn't met him, a real man like that?"

  There was silence. Julius moved cautiously across the room, avoidingchairs as best he could. "Be honest now. Isn't he the real thing?And isn't Ridge Jordan--"

  "Please don't talk about poor Ridge that way, Jule."

  "Poor Ridge!" cried Julius. "Well, well, you didn't speak of h
im that waythis morning. What's happened?"

  "Nothing has happened. That is--"

  He came close. There was a queer little shake in Dorothy's voice. Shebegan to laugh then quite suddenly to cry. Julius came near enough to pather down-bent head.

  "Did that confounded close call shake you up a bit?" he inquiredsympathetically. "By George! when I think what I let you and Kirke andeverybody in for, starting earlier than they meant and all that, so wewere just in time to meet that fool in the worst place on the road--"

  Dorothy looked up. To his astonishment she sprang to her feet and claspedhim about the neck, burying her face on his shoulder. She began to saysomething into his ear, laughing and crying at the same time, so that allhe was at length able to gather was that she didn't regret the closecall at all, for it had shown her--had shown her--

  Julius had not seen Ridge Jordan make his move to spring from the car,but he had felt it--felt Ridge's hand strike his shoulder, his knee hithis back. He had not taken in its meaning at the instant, but when he hadturned about and seen Ridge sitting stiffly facing ahead it came to himwhat had happened at the crisis. He had wondered whether Dot had seen it.Now he knew. Not that she said it. In fact, she said nothingintelligible, but she held her brother tight before she sent him away;and somehow he understood that Fate had helped him to show Dorothy her"real man."

  Somehow she had known that Waldron would write. It was impossible torecall his face and not know that he was a man of action. He would not goaway for six months and leave behind him only a memory to hold herthoughts to his. She wondered only when his letter would come.

  Four times a day the postman was accustomed to leave the mail in aninteresting heap upon the table in Mrs. Jack Elliot's hall. Dorothy, fromthe very morning after the trip to Saxifrage Inn, had found herselfscanning the pile with a curious sense of anticipation. She wondered whatWaldron's handwriting was like. She recalled his workmanlike littlefigures upon the blackboard, and made up her mind that his penmanshipwould be of a similar character, compact and regular. Another man wouldhave sent her flowers before he sailed. Instinctively she knew thatWaldron would not do this; she did not expect nor wish it. But he wouldwrite--unquestionably. How would he write? That was the question whichmade her pulses thrill.

  It was some time before the letter came, as she had guessed it would be.He had written on shipboard, and the letter came back to her from GreaterInagua, the first West Indian island at which his ship had touched.Coming in one September evening from a long walk through the hazy air,its breath fragrant with the peculiar pungent odour of distant forestfires, Dorothy found the letter on the hall table. She knew it was hisbefore she saw the postmark; recognized, as if she had often seen it, theclean cut, regular lettering, the mark of the man of exactness and order,of the well-trained mind. Her heart leaped at sight of it, a heart whichhad never before really leaped at sight of any man's handwriting. Shepicked up the letter and went away upstairs with it to her room. Here shelocked the door.

  She placed the letter upon her dressing-table and studied its envelopewhile she removed her dress, brushed and arranged her hair, and put onthe frock she intended to wear for the evening; she was going with TomWendell to a small dance at the home of a special friend. She did notopen the letter, but left it, unopened, propped up against a little pinksilk pincushion, giving it one last glance as she switched off the lightbefore closing the door. On the evening of the Clifford-Jordan weddingRidgeway Jordan, brother of the bride and best man to the bridegroom, hadoffered himself in marriage to the maid of honour, Dorothy Broughton. Shehad done her best to prevent him, but he had reached such a stage ofdespairing passion that he could no longer be managed and did the deed ata moment when she could not escape. Being gently but firmly refused, hehad declared his life to be irretrievably ruined and immediately afterthe wedding had flung himself out of town, vowing that she should not bebothered with the sight of the work her hands had wrought. When anotherlong-time friend, Thomas Wendell, seized the opportunity of Ridge'sabsence to further his own claims to Dorothy's preferment, she, profitingby painful experience, had somehow made it clear to him that onlycomradeship was in her thoughts. Even on these tacit terms Wendell waseager to serve as escort whenever she would allow it.

  On this September evening he was on hand early and bore her away withill-concealed satisfaction. "I say," he observed suddenly in the pause ofa waltz, "did you happen to have a fortune left you to-day?"

  "Why, Tommy?" Dorothy's face grew instantly sober.

  "Oh, don't turn off the illumination. I'm sorry I spoke. It was only thatyou somehow seemed--well, not exactly unhappy to-night, and I couldn'tget at the cause. I should like to flatter myself that I'm the cause, butI know better."

  "I must be a gloomy person ordinarily if there seems any changeto-night. Don't be foolish, Thomas; I've had no fortune left me; I nevershall have."

  She felt not unlike one with a fortune, however, a fortune of unknowncharacter about to be made known to her, as, shortly aftermidnight--Dorothy kept comparatively early hours when she went todances--she opened the door of her room again. Her first glance was forthe letter. There it stood as she had left it. More than once during theevening she had caught herself fearing that something might happen to itin her absence. She might find the letter gone--forever gone--and unread!She smiled at it as she saw it standing there, but still she did not openit. She took off her dancing frock, braided her hair for the night in twoheavy plaits, and slipped into a little loose gown of cambric, lace, andribbon before at last she approached the waiting letter.

  Why she did all this, putting off the reading of it until the latestpossible moment, only a girl like Dorothy Broughton could have told. Andeven when she broke the seal it was with apparently reluctant fingers. Itwas so delightful not to know, yet to be upon the verge of knowing! Butas soon as the first words met her eyes there was no longer any delay.She read rapidly, her glance drinking in the letter at a draught.

  "ON BOARD S.S. "WESTERWALD," OFF GREATER INAGUA

  "August 21, 19--

  "DEAR DOROTHY BROUGHTON: The first time I saw you was the day you came toschool for the first time. You wore a blue sailor dress with a whiteemblem on the sleeve, and your curly black hair was tied with redribbons. You did not see me that day--nor any other day for a long time.I was simply not in your field of vision. That year I was wearing myolder brother's suit, and I had pressed him rather closely in inheritingit, so that it was none too large for me. I remember that the sleeveswere a bit short. Anyhow, whether it was the fault of the suit or not, Ihad a very indefinite idea what to do with my feet when they were notin action, and even less at times when they were. I recall vividly thatthere seemed to be a sort of ground swell between my desk and theblackboard, so that I never could walk confidently and evenly from one tothe other. When by any chance I imagined your eyes were turned my way theground swell became a tidal wave.

  "Once, just once, I was allowed to help you with a lesson. You wereunable to make head or tail of a problem in fractions; I don't thinkfigures were your strong point! Miss Edgewood began to show you; aninterruption came along. I happened to be at her elbow--I had a sort ofreputation for figures--she called on me to help you out. I remember thatat the summons my heart turned over twice, and its action after that wasirregular, affecting my breathing and making my hand shake. Luckily itdid not upset my brain, so that I was able to make the thing clear toyou. I dared not look at you! You did not get it at first and you stampedyour foot and said: "But I don't see any _sense_ to it!" I replied with atremendous effort at lightening the situation: "Plenty of cents, anddollars, too!" At which you turned and gave me a look--at first of prideand anger, then melting into appreciation of my wit, and ending byblinding me with the beauty of your laughter! We went on from thatfamously, and you saw the thing clearly and thanked me. I thought I knewyou then--had made myself a friend of yours. Next day, alas! you passedme with a nod. But I never forgot what it might be like to know you.

  "We are four days
out from New York--shall call at Matthew Town to-day.Another eight days will bring us to Puerto Colombia; then for the rivertrip which will take me within thirty miles of the camp in the mountains.When I am up at the mines I shall write again. My address will be PuertoAndes, Colombia, the port of the Company. If some day, when I go down thetrail to send off my report, I should find a letter from you, I should goback the happier.

  "Meanwhile I am,

  "Faithfully yours,

  "KIRKE WALDRON."

  Dorothy went over and stood by the window, gazing out into the Septembernight. It was an unpretentious letter enough, but she liked it--liked itvery much. He had gone back to the beginning, picked up the one linkbetween them in their past, the fact that they had been schoolmates. Hehad dared to remind her of his poverty, of his awkward schoolboypersonality, and of the fact that even in those days he had cared how shemight regard him. Well, as for the poverty, she knew his family; knewthat it was of good stock, that his parents were people of education andrefinement, and that circumstances wholly honourable had been the causeof their lack of resources.

  Should she answer the letter? How should she not answer it? Delay, then,lest he think her too eager with her reply? Why?--when she knew as wellas he, and he as well as she, that the thing was already done, that themutual attraction had been of the sort which holds steadily to the end.Yet, being a woman, she could not fling herself into his arms at thefirst invitation. And indeed he had not invited. He had counted on herwish to begin at the beginning and play the beautiful, thrilling playthrough to the end, as if it were not already decided how it was to comeout. The fact that she knew how it was to come out would not make itless the interesting play--in a world where, after all, strange thingshappen, so that no man may see the end from the beginning, nor countupon as inevitable an outcome which all the fates may combine tothreaten and to thwart.

  So she delayed a little before she wrote. She let one ship, two ships,sail without her message, so that it would not be at the first trampingof the trail into Puerto Andes that he should find the letter. When itfinally left her hands it was a very little letter after all, and onewhich it could not be imagined would take three days to write--as it had!

  "DEAR MR. WALDRON: I think I know quite well that the little girl of thecurly black hair, red ribbons, and blue sailor dress was a veryaudacious, pugnacious little person, and I wonder that you were willingto help her through the tangle of fractions as you did so cleverly. Iwell remember thinking you a very wonderful scholar, but you were somuch older than I that I admit not thinking about you very much. It waslike that small girl to stamp her ridiculous foot; she has gone onstamping it, more or less, all her life. But I believe she has done somesmiling, too.

  "It will be very interesting to hear from the depths of Colombia; schooldays are so far gone by I had to look it up on the map. Is it very hotthere, and do you live on bananas and breadfruit? I don't mind showinghow little I know, because then you may tell me about it. I am reallygoing to read up concerning South America at once, so that I may be anintelligent if not a "gentle" reader.

  "Very good luck to you there,

  "Wished you by

  "DOROTHY BROUGHTON."

  As promptly as the return mails could bring her a reply one came,although it was, of course, a matter of weeks. During those weeks Dorothyhad not only "read up" on the subject of South America with especialreference to Colombia; she had also posted herself, so far as a generalreader may, concerning the rather comprehensive subject of miningengineering. This knowledge helped her to an understanding of Waldron'snext letter. He gave her a brief but graphic description of hissurroundings in a camp upon the mountains, reached by a trail of nearlythirty miles from Puerto Andes. Certain long-delayed and badly neededmachinery had arrived at ten o'clock of the previous evening, packed overthe trail by mules. This had been unloaded by three in the morning, andthe engineers had been so glad to see the stuff at last that they hadbeen unwilling to go at once to bed, tired as they were. The mail hadcome in by the same route, and it had been by the smouldering campfire ofthe early morning that Waldron had read his letter from Dorothy. "Such avery short letter!" he said of it, and continued:

  "Yet it was more welcome than you can guess. I had done a lot ofspeculating as to what it would look like when it came--if it came--andit looked not unlike what I had fancied. I was sure you wouldn't writeone of those tall, angular hands, ten words to a page, which remind oneof linked telegraph poles. Neither would you be guilty of thatcommonplace little round script which school-children are taught now, andwhich goes on influencing their handwriting all their days. There wouldbe character in it, thought I--and there was!

  "It made me long for more--that letter! I wonder if you have the leastidea what it feels like to be off in a country like this, your only realcompanion another engineer. Splendid fellow, Hackett, and I couldn't aska better; and the work is great. But there comes an hour now and thenwhen there seems more beauty in one small letter postmarked "home" thanin all the gorgeous sunsets of this wonderful country.

  "May I write often and at length? I can think of no happier way to spendthe hour before we turn in than in writing to you. And if you willanswer my letters, as you have been so good as to do with my first one, Ishall have the most compelling reason of my life to watch the mails.

  "I want--as I wanted when a schoolboy--"to know you." I want you to knowme. There is no way in which this can be accomplished for a long time tocome except by letters. Won't you agree to this regular interchange? Idon't mean that which I presume you mean when you say it will be"interesting to hear from Colombia." You mean, I suppose, a letter nowand then, at the intervals which conventionality imposes at the beginningof a correspondence, possibly shortening as time goes on, but taking atleast half a year to get under way. I want it to get under way at once!We can receive mail but once a fortnight at the best up here, and thereare often delays. So if you answer my letters as soon as you get them Ishall not hear from you too often. Please!

  "I am an engineer, you know; that means a fellow who is trained toaction--all the time. If he can't get results fast enough by working hismen by day he works them by night also--day-and-night shifts--and workswith them, too, much of the time. In that way--well, samples taken fromour south drift assay more than we had dared to hope a ton, but not tillwe got well in. The vein may pinch out, of course, but there are no signsof it. I expect it to widen instead, and grow richer in quality. So--ifyou'll forgive the miner's analogy--with another vein I know of--thefinest sort of gold!"

  So the correspondence began. It was easy for a young woman of Dorothy'sdiscernment to see that here was no case for a long-distance flirtation,if she had wanted one. From the moment when she had flung her left handinto Waldron's right, and that other moment when she had told him withabsolute truth that she was not afraid with him beside her, he had takenher at her word. She could not play with him, even if he had been nearher; far less now that thousands of miles separated them. She answeredwith a letter of twice the length of her first one, a gay little letter,full of incident and her comments thereon. The reply came promptly, andthis time it was a long one. He told her many details of the situation asit was developing in these new, extraordinarily promising mines; and shefound it as fascinating as a fairy tale. But, of course, although sheread these pages many times over, she read more often certain opening andclosing passages. One ran like this:

  "Now to bed--and to work again with the dawn. While I am writing to you Iforget everything about me. Natives may chatter near me; I don't hearthem. My friend Hackett may come and fire a string of questions at me;he tells me afterward my answers wouldn't do credit to a monkey on astick. I am lost in the attempt to put your face before me--your face asI saw it last. There was not much light in the car, but what there wasfell on your face. I see rose colour always; what was it--the bonnet?--ifthey call those things bonnets! I see more rose colour--reflection? I seea pair of eyes which were not afraid to look into mine--for a minute;only for a minu
te--but I can see them.

  "The night grows cold. Even in the tropics the nights may be cold inthe mountains. My fire has burned down to a few coals. My bunk awaitsme; I thought I was tired when I sat down to write. I'm not tirednow--refreshed!

  "Good-night! Sleep well--up there somewhere in the North!"

  After this letter Dorothy Broughton went about like a girl in a dream.

  Yet she was so practical a girl, had been so thoroughly trained to fillher days with things worth while, that she was able to keep up a veryrealistic appearance of being absorbed in the old round of duties andpleasures. She was leading a life by no means idle or useless. As for thehappiness of it, she carried about with her a constant sense thatsomething wonderful had happened, was happening--and was yet tohappen--which made no task too hard for her newly vitalized spirit.

  The day before Thanksgiving the arrival of a particularly thick letterfrom Colombia gave her a more than ordinarily delightful sense ofanticipation. Her brother Julius, at home for the annual festival, saw itupon the hall table three seconds before she did, and captured it. Hewithdrew from his breast pocket another letter in a similar handwritingaddressed to himself. With an expression of great gravity he compared thetwo while Dorothy held out her hand in vain.

  "Don't be in a hurry," he advised her. "There is a curious likenessbetween these two addresses--not to mention the envelopes--whichinterests but baffles me. The word 'Broughton' in both cases begins withan almost precisely identical B. The small t is crossed in almost exactlythe same manner--with a black bar of ink which indicates a lavishdisposition. The whole address upon your letter seems to me to bear aclose and remarkable resemblance to the address upon mine. Another pointwhich should not be overlooked: both are postmarked with a South Americanstamp, a Colombian stamp, with--yes--with the same stamp. What can thismean? I--"

  "When you are through with your nonsense--" Dorothy still extended herhand for her letter.

  Julius sat down upon the third step of the staircase, his countenanceindicating entire absorption in the comparison before him. He held theletters in one hand; with his other he made it clear to his sister thather nearer approach would be resisted. "There is one point where thelikeness fails," he mused. "My letter is an ordinary one as to thickness;it consists of two meagre sheets of rather light-weight paper. Yourletter, on the other hand, strikes me as extraordinarily bulky. Nowthere--"

  "Jule, I'm busy. Will you please--"

  "Just as I get on the trail of this thing you insist on diverting mymind," her brother complained bitterly. He held the two letters at arm'slength, continuing to study them while his extended hand kept his sisteraway. But she now turned and walked off down the hall.

  He looked after her with a sparkle in his black eyes. "Sis," heentreated, "don't go. I need your help. Have you by any chance an inklingas to the sender of these curiously similar epistles?"

  She turned. Her eyes were sparkling, too. She shook her head.

  "I'll tell you what," cried the inspired Julius, "let's read 'emtogether, paragraph by paragraph. Look here, I dare you to!" he suddenlychallenged her. "Mine first." Stuffing his sister's letter into hispocket he spread forth his own. "I suppose you always read the last pagefirst," said he, "I've understood women do. So we'll begin at the lastpage. Listen!"

  She would have left him but he had walked over to her and now held her bythe wrist while he began to read. It was impossible for her eyes toresist the drawing power of that now familiar penmanship.

  "In this way forty-two miles of trail were cleared from ten to fourteenfeet wide, most of our efforts being concentrated on the grading,bridges, and corduroying. Four pastures were cleaned out, of aboutseven, six, and four cabullos each, or about twenty-three to twenty-sixacres in all. These pastures were burned and grass has started in mostof them. We built palm houses or shacks at each stopping-place. We feelpretty well satisfied with the trail. You must not get the idea that wehave an automobile road, for we haven't, but we are now much betterprepared to handle supplies and machinery." Julius looked up. "Supposeyours is as thrilling as that? Now for a paragraph of yours. Shall Iopen it for you?"

  But by a quick motion she escaped him and had the letter. She waslaughing as she slipped it into some unknown place about her dress.

  "Now see here," Julius persisted, following her up the stairs. "I have tolook into this, as a brother. Judging by the bulk of that letter it isnot the first one from the same person. How long have you two beencorresponding in my absence and without my permission?"

  Dorothy turned and faced him. Her face was full of vivid colour, but hereyes were daring. "Since August."

  "Hm! Does he write entertaining letters?"

  "Very."

  "Gives you a full report of his operations, I suppose, with a dip intothe early history of the country and the result of his researches intothe Spanish settlement."

  "Yes, indeed."

  "Ever touch on anything personal?--mutually personal, I mean, of course."

  "Never."

  Julius scanned her face. "He writes me," said he, "that instead ofstaying only six months it's likely to be a year before he can comeNorth. The Company who picked him to go down and put this thing throughhas decided to make a much bigger thing of it than was at first intended.Too bad, eh? Fine for him; but a year's quite a stretch for a chap who,as I recall it, went away with some reluctance--just at the last."

  Dorothy met his intent eyes without flinching. "He is so interested inhis work I should say it was not too bad at all," she responded.

  She then was allowed to make her escape, while Julius went backdownstairs, smiling to himself. "That shot told," he exulted.

  In her room Dorothy opened her letter. If Julius's news were true shewould soon know it. Out of the envelope fell a small packet ofphotographs, but it was not their presence alone which had made it sobulky. The letter itself was three times as long as her brother's.

  Dorothy eagerly examined the photographs which had fallen out of KirkeWaldron's letter. They had been taken all about his camp in Colombia andthe surrounding country, picturing the progress that had been made in thedevelopment of the mines. In one or two of the pictures, showing groupsof native workmen, she made out Waldron's figure, usually presenting himengaged in conversation, his back turned to the lens. But one picture hadbeen taken in front of his own shack with its palm-leaf thatching. He wasstanding by the door, leaning against the lintel, dressed in his workingclothes, pipe in hand, looking straightforwardly out of the picture ather and smiling a little. The figure was that of a strong, well-built,outdoors man, the face full of character and purpose, lighted by humour.The steady eyes seemed very intent upon her, and it was a littledifficult for her to remind herself that it was undoubtedly his fellowengineer and friend, Hackett, at whom he was gazing with so muchfriendliness of aspect rather than at her far-away self.

  The letter, however, toward its close set her right upon this point. Hehad told her of his decision to stay and see the full development of themine through, in spite of the wrench it cost him to think of remaining ayear without a break. Then, going on to describe the taking of thephotograph, he had written:

  "The Company is very glad to get as much as we can send it of actualillustration of our labours, so we make it a point to snap these scenesfrom time to tune. There is one picture, however, which was not takenfor the Company. Hackett asked me to hold the lens on him for a shot tosend to somebody up North there, so he went inside and freshened up abit and came out grinning. I grinned back as I took the picture, andsaid I was glad to see him so cheerful. He replied that the smile wasnot for me--that though he had apparently looked at me he had reallybeen looking through me at a person about as different from myself as Icould well imagine.

  "It's a poor rule that doesn't work both ways, so I then took my place bythe door of our palatial residence, and gazed--apparently--at Hackett'sIndian-red visage. I found it entirely possible to forget, as he haddone, the chap before me, and see instead--well--look at the pict
ure! Andplease don't let those lashes drop too soon. When I imagine them theyalways do!"

  It was thus that the correspondence went on. Dorothy never replieddirectly to such paragraphs as these, but she did send him, a fewweeks after the arrival of the Colombian photographs, a littlesnapshot of herself taken in winter costume as she was coming down thesteps of her home. It was an exquisite bit of portraiture, even thoughof small proportions, and it called forth the most daring response hehad yet made:

  "I know you wouldn't want it pinned up in the shack, and it's much toovaluable to risk leaving it among my other possessions there. So I carryit about in an old leather letter case in my pocket. I hope you don'tmind. I'm a little afraid of wearing it out, so I've constructed a sortof a frame for it, out of a heavy linen envelope, which will bearhandling better than the little picture.... You are looking straight outat me--at _me_? I wish I knew it! Won't you tell me--Dorothy? You cantrust me--can't you? There are some things which can't be said at longdistance; they must wait. I get to feeling like a storage batterysometimes--overcharged! Meanwhile, trust me--Dorothy!"

  But she would send him only this:

  "Of course I was looking at you. Why not? It's only courtesy to recognizethe salutation of a gentleman disguised in working clothes, standing inthe door of a queer-looking South American residence. Besides--he looksrather well, I think!"

  One April evening Mr. Julius Broughton, sitting comfortably in his roomin a certain well-known building at a well-known university, was summonedto telephone. Bringing his feet to the floor with a thump, flinging asidehis book and puffing away at his pipe, he lounged unwillingly to thetelephone box. The following conversation ensued, causing a sudden anddistinct change in the appearance of the young man.

  "Broughton," he acknowledged the call. "Broughton? This isWaldron--Kirke Waldron."

  "Who?"

  "Waldron; up from Colombia, South America. Forgotten me?"

  "What! Forgotten you! I say--when did you come? Where are you?Will you--"

  The distant voice cut in sharply: "Hold on. I've just about one minute tospend talking. Can you come downtown to the Warrington Street Station? Ifyou'll be there at ten, sharp, under the south-side clock, I can see youfor ten minutes before I leave for the train. I want to see you verymuch. Explain everything then."

  "Of course I'll come; delighted! Be right down. But aren't yougoing to--"

  "I'll explain later," said Waldron's decisive voice again. "Sorry to ringoff now. Good-bye."

  "Well, great George Washington!" murmured Julius to himself as hereplaced the receiver on the hook and reinserted his pipe in his mouth,to emit immediately thereafter a mighty puff of smoke. "I knew thefellow was a hustler, but I should suppose that when he comes up fromSouth America to telephone he might spend sixty or seventy seconds at it.Must be a sudden move; no hint of it in his last letter."

  He consulted his watch. He would have to emulate Waldron's haste if hereached the Warrington Street Station by ten o'clock. He made a number ofrapid moves, resulting in his catching a through car which bore himdowntown at express speed and landed him in the big station at a minutebefore ten. Hurrying through the crowd he came suddenly face to face withthe man he sought.

  Tanned to a seasoned brown, and looking as vigorous as a lusty pine tree,Waldron shook hands warmly.

  But before Julius had more than begun his expressions of pleasure atseeing his friend again so unexpectedly Waldron turned and indicated ayoung man's figure in a wheelchair. "That's my friend and associateengineer, Hackett, over there. He's had a very bad illness and I'm takinghim home. We'll go over and speak to him in a minute. Meanwhile, I shallhave to talk fast. First--is your sister Dorothy well?" The direct gazehad in it no apology for speaking thus abruptly.

  "Fine," Julius assured him. "Haven't you heard from her lately?"

  "Not since I sailed--naturally--nor for a fortnight before that. I cameaway very unexpectedly, sooner than I should have done but for Hackett,who needed to get home. But the trip combines that errand with a lot ofbusiness--seeing the Company directors, consulting with the firm, lookingup machinery and getting it shipped back with me on the next boat. Ihaven't an hour to spare anywhere but on this flying trip to Hackett'shome, which will take twenty-four hours, and I shall have to work nightand day. And--I want to see your sister."

  Again the direct look, accompanied this time, by a smile which waslike a sudden flash of sunshine, as Julius well remembered. Waldrondid not smile too often, but when he did smile--well, one wanted to dowhat he asked.

  "Does she know?" Julius demanded.

  "Not a word; there was no way to let her know except to cable, andI--have no right to send her cable orders--or requests. Broughton, as Ifigure it out, I have just one chance to see her, and that only with yourcooperation--and hers. I don't believe I need explain to you that itseems to me I must see her; going back without it is unthinkable. I don'tknow when I may be North again. Yet I can't neglect Hackett or my duty tothe Company."

  "Then--how the dickens--"

  "I shall be coming back on the train that reaches this station at twoo'clock Saturday morning. It will go through your home city at midnight.Would it be possible for you and Miss Dorothy to take that train when itleaves Boston Friday night, and so give me the time between there andyour station?"

  Julius Broughton, born plotter and situation maker as he was, rose to theoccasion gallantly. It tickled him immensely, the whole idea. He spentfive seconds in consideration, his eye fixed on the lapel of Waldron'scoat; then he spoke:

  "Leave it to me. I'll have to figure it out how to get around Dot. Youmustn't think she's going to jump at the chance of going to meet a maninstead of having him come to meet her. She's used to having the mendo the travelling, you know, while she stays at home and forgetsthey're coming."

  "I know. And you know--and I think she knows also--that only necessitywould make me venture to ask such a favour."

  "I may have to scheme a bit--"

  "No, please don't. I prefer not to spend the time between stationsexplaining the scheming and apologizing for it. Put it to her frankly,letting her understand the situation--"

  Julius shook his head. "She's not used to it. She'll find it hard tounderstand why you couldn't stop off and get out to our place, if onlyfor an hour."

  "Then show her this."

  Waldron took from his breast pocket a card, on which, in very small,close writing and figures, was a concise schedule of his engagements forthe coming five days, and, as he had said, nights.

  Julius scanned it, and whistled softly a bar from a popular song, "Now DoYou See?" "Do eating and sleeping happen to come in on this anywhere?" hequeried gently.

  "On the run. It's this trip up into New Hampshire that's crowding things;otherwise, I might have managed it very well."

  "Couldn't anybody else have seen Mr.--Hackett home?" asked Julius.

  "No." Waldron's tone settled that and left no room for dispute. "Thereare some things that can't be done, you know, and that's one of them." Heglanced at the great clock over his head. "Come over and meet him."

  Julius went.

  A long, thin figure, wrapped in an ulster, reached out a hand, and adeterminedly cheerful voice said, with an evident effort not to show thesevere fatigue the journey was costing the convalescent: "Think of me asSackett or Jackett or something. I'm no Hackett; they're a huskier lot."

  "As you will be soon, of course," Julius broke in confidently.

  "Colombia air is pretty fine, but New Hampshire air is better--for oldNew Hampshire boys," asserted Waldron. He nodded at a red-cappedporter waiting near, and laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Thischap is going to be all right when he gets where a certain littlemother can look after him. Mothers and blood poisoning don't assimilatea bit. And now we have to be off, for I want to get my patient settledin his berth before the train pulls out, and it's going to be called inabout thirty seconds."

  He turned aside for a final word with Julius. "I'm not asking too much?"
>
  "Do you think you are?"

  The two pairs of eyes searched each other.

  "I know Miss Dorothy is an orphan; I know, too, that you are her onlybrother. You understand that I mean to ask her to marry me, if I can havethe chance. I couldn't do it--on paper. If you approve the match--and Ithink you do or you wouldn't have planned quite so cleverly last July--"

  "What?"

  "You brought about that meeting, you know," said Waldron, smiling, withsuch a penetrating look that Julius felt it go past all defenses.

  "How do you know I did?"

  "By a certain peculiar twist to your left eyebrow when that train came infrom the wrong direction. You forget that I went to school with you. Ihave seen that twist before; it meant only one thing."

  "Well, I'll be--see here, it was after dark when that train--"

  "The hotel hand had a lantern. You unwisely allowed its rays to strikeyour face."

  Julius burst into a smothered laugh. "Well, you're a good one!"

  "I'm glad you think so--since I'm asking of you this thing you sodislike to do."

  "I don't dislike it; I'm delighted to have the chance. I'll have her onthat train if I have to blindfold her."

  "Don't do that. Show her the card."

  The two shook hands with a strong grip of affection and understanding.Then Waldron, wheeling the chair himself, took his friend Hackett away ascarefully as if he were convoying a baby. Julius, after seeing the partythrough the gates, went back to his college rooms, his wits busy with thetask which so took hold of his fancy.

  Julius would have enjoyed scheming involvedly, but Waldron had been tooperemptory about that to allow of a particle of intrigue. So, before heslept, he sent his sister a special-delivery letter knowing she wouldreceive it in the morning. It stated, after describing the situation toher (with a few private and characteristic touches of his own), that hewould call her up by telephone to receive her reply, and that he wouldgo through the city on a certain afternoon train on which she was tojoin him. This plan would give the pair time for a leisurely dinner inBoston before meeting Waldron upon the ten o'clock train. When he hadDorothy on the wire next morning he was not surprised that her firstwords were these:

  "Julius--is it surely Julius? Well--I don't see how I can go!"

  "Why not? Got the mumps--or any other disfiguring complaint?"

  "Mercy, no! But--it can't be that it is necessary! He--he certainlycould--"

  "Did you read that schedule?"

  Julius's voice had in it a commanding, no-compromise quality. He knewthat this feminine evasiveness was probably inevitable; they were madethat way, these girls; but he did not intend to let the time limit of anexpensive long-distance call be exceeded by mere nonsense.

  "Ye-es, but--"

  "Now listen. We've got three minutes to talk; we've used thirty secondsalready saying nothing. I'm going to be on that train. I'm going to havethat little trip with Kirke, and if you don't have it, it will be purefoolishness; and you'll cry your eyes out afterward to think you didn't.He can't get to you; if he could he'd do it; you must know him wellenough for that if you've been hearing from him all these months.Now--will you be there?"

  "Julius! I'm afraid I--"

  "Will you be there?"

  "Why--don't you think I--perhaps I ought to have Bud--"

  "No, I don't. I'm all the chaperon you'll need for this affair. If you goand get another woman mixed up with it you'll lose half of your fun, forshe'll be sure to forget she's the chaperon--you know Bud--and first youknow you'll be chaperoning her. See? Will you be at the station? I'mgoing to hang up now in just fifteen seconds!"

  "Oh, Jule--wait!--I--"

  "All right! I'll telephone down for the seats. Good-bye!"

  He was on the vestibuled platform of his car to meet her when his trainpassed the home city from whose suburbs she had come in. His eager eyefell delightedly on the trimly modish figure his sister presented; hewould be proud to take her back into his car. He knew just how two orthree sleepy fellows of his own age, in chairs near his own, would sit upwhen they saw him return with this radiant girl. Dot certainly knew howto get herself up, he reflected, as he had often done before.

  It was April and it was "raining cats and dogs" as Dorothy came aboard,but the blue rainproof serge of her beautifully fitting suit was littlethe worse therefor, and the close little black hat with the fetchingfeather was one to defy the elements, be they never so wildly springlike.

  "You're a good sport!" was Julius's low-pitched greeting as he kissedher, the tail of his eye on one of his young fellow-passengers who hadfollowed him to the platform for a breath of fresh air and stood with hishands in his pockets staring at the pretty girl close by.

  "I feel like a buccaneer--or a pirate--or something very bold and wildand adventurous," she returned.

  "You don't look it--except in your eye. I think I do see there the gleamof a desperate resolve." He bent over her devotedly as he put her in herchair, noting the effect on the young gentlemen who had been too slothfulto leave the car, but who now, as he had predicted to himself, were"sitting up," both physically and mentally, as they covertly eyed his newtravelling companion. "I admit it takes courage for a New England girl tostart out to meet a barbarian from the wilds of South America,unchaperoned except by a perfectly good brother."

  "If I could be sure the brother would be perfectly good--" shesuggested, smiling at him as she slightly altered the position of herchair so that the attentive fellow-travellers were moved out of her lineof vision.

  "I'm sworn to rigorous virtue," he replied solemnly. "He attended to thatfor you."

  Dorothy looked out of the window. She looked out of the window most ofthe way to Boston, so that the interested youths opposite were able toenjoy only the averted line of her profile.

  Julius, however, took delight in playing the lover for their benefit, andhis attention to his sister would have deceived the elect. The result wasa considerably heightened colour in Dot's face, which added the lasttouch of charm to the picture and completed her brother's satisfaction.

  Arrived in the city, Broughton treated his sister to a deliciouslittle dinner at a favourite hotel, which he himself relished to thefull. He questioned whether she knew what she was eating or its quality,but she maintained an appearance of composure which only herself knewwas attained at a cost.

  He then escorted her to a florist's and himself insisted upon pinningupon the blue serge coat a gorgeous corsage knot of deep-hued redroses and mignonette, which added to her quiet costume the onebrilliant note that was needed to bring out her beauty as his artisticyoung eye approved.

  She protested in vain. "I don't want to wear flowers--to-night, mydear boy."

  "Why not? There's nothing conspicuous about that, these days. Moreconspicuous not to, you might say. You often do it yourself."

  "I know, but--to-night!"

  "He won't know what you have on. He's slightly delirious at this veryminute, I have no doubt at all. When he sees you he'll go off his head.Oh, nobody'll know it to look at him; you needn't be afraid of that."

  "Please stop talking about it," commanded his sister. But she did notrefuse to wear the red roses. No sane young woman could after havingcaught a glimpse of herself in the florist's mirror. Even an indifferentshopgirl stared with interest after the pair as they left the place,wondering if, after all, flowers weren't more effective on the quietswells than on those of the dashing attire.

  "We're to meet him on the train, not in the station," Julius observed, ashe hurried his sister across the great concourse. "He has to make rathera close connection. So we'll be in our seats when he arrives. Or, betteryet, we'll get back on the observation platform and see him when he comesout the gates. That'll give you the advantage of the first look!"

  Their car, it turned out, was the end one and their seats at the rearend, as Julius had tried to arrange but had not been sure ofaccomplishing. Dorothy followed him through the car and out upon theplatform. Here the two watched the crowds
hurrying through the gatestoward their own and other trains, while the minutes passed. Julius,watch in hand, began to show signs of anxiety.

  "He'd better be showing up soon," he announced as the stream of oncomingpassengers began to thin. "It's getting pretty close to--There he isthough! Good work. Come on, old fellow, don't be so leisurely! By George,that's not Kirke after all! Those shoulders--I thought it certainly was.But he'll come--oh, he'll come all right or break a leg trying!"

  But he did not come. The last belated traveller dashed through the gates,the last signal was given, the train began very slowly to move.

  "He's missed the connection," said Julius solemnly. "But we'll hear fromhim at the first stop; certainly we'll hear from him. We'll go inside thecar and be prepared to answer up."

  But neither at the first stop nor the second did the porter appear witha message for Mr. Broughton or for Miss Broughton, or for anybodywhomsoever.

  Dorothy sat quietly looking out of the window into the darkness, hercheek supported by her hand and shaded from her brother. She wasperfectly cheerful and composed, but Julius guessed rightly enough thatit was not a happy hour for her. She had come more than half-way to meeta man who had asked it of her, only to have him fail to appear. Of coursethere was an explanation--of course; but--well, it was not a happy hour.The red roses on her breast drooped a very little; their counterparts inher cheeks paled slowly as the train flew on. An hour went by.

  Some miles after stopping at a station the train slowed down again.

  "Where are we?" queried Julius, peering out of the window, his handshading his eyes. "Nowhere in particular, I should say."

  The train stopped, began to move again, backing; it presently becameapparent that it was taking a siding.

  "That's funny for this train," said Julius, and went out on the rearplatform to investigate.

  In a minute or two another train appeared in the distance behind, rushedon toward them, slowed down not quite to a stop, and was instantly underway again. A minute later their own train began to move once more.

  "Perhaps he's chartered a special and caught up," said Julius, returningto his sister. "Perhaps he's made so much money down in Colombia that hecan afford to hire specials. That was a special, all right--big engineand one Pullman. We wouldn't be sidetracked for anything less important,I'm quite sure."

  He stretched himself comfortably in his chair again with a furtiveglance at his sister. He sat with his back to the car, facing her. He nowsaw her look down the car with an intent expression; then suddenly he sawthe splendid colour surge into her face. Her eyes took fire--and Juliusswung about in his chair to find out the cause. Then he sprang up, and ifhe did not shout his relief and joy it was because well-trained youngmen, even though they be not yet out of college, do not give vent totheir emotions in public.

  "By George!" he said under his breath. "How in time has he made it?"

  But Waldron, as he came back through the car, was not looking at Julius.Dorothy had risen and was standing by her chair, and though the newlyarrived traveller shook hands with Julius as he met him in the aisle, itwas only to look past him at the figure at the back of the car. The nextinstant his hand had grasped hers, and he was gazing as straight downinto her eyes as a man may who has seen such eyes for the last ninemonths only in his dreams. "You came!" he said; and there were wonderand gratitude and joy in his voice, so that it was not quite steady.

  She nodded. "There seemed to be nothing else to do," she answered, andher smile was enchanting.

  "Did you want to do anything else?"

  There must certainly have been something about him which inspiredhonesty. Quite naturally, from the feminine point of view, Dorothy wouldhave liked not to answer this direct and meaning question just then. But,as once before, the necessity of speaking to this man only the truth wasinstantly strong upon her. Deep down, evade the issue as she might bysaying that she would have preferred to have him come to her, she knewthat she was glad to do this thing for him, since the other had beenimpossible.

  So she lifted her eyes for an instant and let him see her answer beforeshe slowly shook her head, while the quick breath she could not whollycontrol stirred the red roses on her breast.

  "Now see here, old man," said Julius Broughton, "I know the time isshort and all that, and I'm going to spend this next hour in thesmoking-room and let you two have a chance to talk. But before I go mynatural curiosity must be satisfied or I shall burst. Am I tounderstand that that gilt-edged special that passed us just now broughtyou to your appointment? And are you King of Colombia down there, oranything like that?"

  Waldron turned, laughing. His browned cheek had a touch of a still warmercolour in it, his eyes were glowing.

  "That certainly was wonderful luck," said he. "I reached the gate just asthe tail-lights of this train were disappearing. As I turned away a manat my elbow asked if I minded missing it. I said I minded so much thatif I could afford it I would hire a special to catch it. He said, verymuch as if he had been offering me a seat in his motor, that a specialwas to leave in a few minutes and that it would pass this train somewherewithin an hour. He turned out to be the president of the road. We had avery interesting visit on the way down--or it would have been interestingif it had happened at any other tune. I was so busy keeping an eye outfor sidetracked trains that I now and then lost the run of theconversation."

  "If the president of the road hadn't turned up," suggested Julius, "wouldyou mind saying what other little expedient would have occurred to you?"

  "I should have wired you, begging you to give me one more chance,"admitted Waldron. "I should have wired you anyway, if I hadn't feltthat it would have spoiled my dramatic entrance at some siding. And Iwanted all the auxiliaries on my side."

  Julius went away into the smoking compartment forward with a sense ofhaving had Fate for the second time take a hand in a more tellingmanagement of other people's affairs than even he, with all his love ofpulling wires, could effect. He looked back as he went, to see Waldrontaking Dorothy out upon the observation platform.

  "It's lucky it's a mild April night," he said to himself. "I suppose itwouldn't make any difference if a northeast blizzard were on."

  "Will it chill the roses?" Waldron asked with a smile as he closed thedoor behind them, shutting himself and Dorothy out into the cool, wetfreshness of the night, where the two gleaming rails were slipping fastaway into the blackness behind and only distant lights here and therebetokened the existence of other human beings in a world that seemedall theirs.

  "It wouldn't matter if it did," she answered.

  "Wouldn't it? Can you possibly feel, as I do, that nothing in the worldmatters, now that we are together again?"

  Again the direct question. But somehow she did not in the least mindanswering; she wanted to answer. The time was so short!

  With other men Dorothy Broughton had used every feminine art ofevasion and withdrawal at moments of crisis, but she could not usethem with this man.

  She shook her head, laying one hand against her rose-red cheek, like ashy and lovely child--yet like a woman, too.

  He gently took the hand away from the glowing cheek, and kept itfast in his.

  "I fell desperately in love with you when I was fifteen," said KirkeWaldron. "I carried the image of you all through my boyhood and intomanhood. I saw you at different times while you were growing up, althoughyou didn't see me. I kept track of you. I thought you never could be forme. But when we met last summer I knew that if I couldn't have you Ishould never want anybody. And when--something happened that made youglad for just a minute to be with me, I knew I should never let you go.Then you gave me that last look and I dared to believe that you could bemade to care. Dorothy--they were pretty poor letters from a literarypoint of view that I've been sending you all these months, but I tried toput myself into them so that you could know just what sort of fellow Iwas. And I tried to make you see, without actually telling you, what youwere to me. Did I succeed?"

  "They were fine lett
ers," said Dorothy Broughton. "Splendid, manlyletters. I liked them very much. I--loved them!"

  "Oh!" said Kirke Waldron, and became suddenly silent with joy.

  After a minute he looked up at the too brilliant electric lights whichflooded the platform. He glanced in at the occupants of the car, nearlyall facing forward, except for one or two who were palpablyasleep--negligible certainly. Then he put his head inside the door,scanning the woodwork beside it. He reached upward with one hand and inthe twinkling of an eye the observation platform was in darkness.

  "Oh!" breathed Dorothy in her turn. But the next thing that happened wasthe thing which might have been expected of a resourceful young miningengineer, trained, as he himself had said, "to action--all the time!"

  THE END

  Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net
Share this book with friends