THE GODDESS OF EXCELSIOR
When the two isolated mining companies encamped on Sycamore Creekdiscovered on the same day the great "Excelsior Lead," they met arounda neutral camp fire with that grave and almost troubled demeanor whichdistinguished the successful prospector in those days. Perhaps the term"prospectors" could hardly be used for men who had labored patientlyand light-heartedly in the one spot for over three years to gain a dailyyield from the soil which gave them barely the necessaries of life.Perhaps this was why, now that their reward was beyond their mostsanguine hopes, they mingled with this characteristic gravity anambition and resolve peculiarly their own. Unlike most successfulminers, they had no idea of simply realizing their wealth and departingto invest or spend it elsewhere, as was the common custom. On thecontrary, that night they formed a high resolve to stand or fall bytheir claims, to develop the resources of the locality, to build up atown, and to devote themselves to its growth and welfare. And to thispurpose they bound themselves that night by a solemn and legal compact.
Many circumstances lent themselves to so original a determination. Thelocality was healthful, picturesque, and fertile. Sycamore Creek, aconsiderable tributary of the Sacramento, furnished them a generouswater supply at all seasons; its banks were well wooded andinterspersed with undulating meadow land. Its distance from stage-coachcommunication--nine miles--could easily be abridged by a wagon road overa practically level country. Indeed, all the conditions for a thrivingsettlement were already there. It was natural, therefore, that the mostsanguine anticipations were indulged by the more youthful of the twentymembers of this sacred compact. The sites of a hotel, a bank, theexpress company's office, stage office, and court-house, with othernecessary buildings, were all mapped out and supplemented by a theatre,a public park, and a terrace along the river bank! It was only whenClinton Grey, an intelligent but youthful member, on offering a plan ofthe town with five avenues eighty feet wide, radiating from a centralplaza and the court-house, explained that "it could be commanded byartillery in case of an armed attack upon the building," that it wasfelt that a line must be drawn in anticipatory suggestion. Nevertheless,although their determination was unabated, at the end of six monthslittle had been done beyond the building of a wagon road and theimportation of new machinery for the working of the lead. Thepeculiarity of their design debarred any tentative or temporary efforts;they wished the whole settlement to spring up in equal perfection,so that the first stage-coach over the new road could arrive upon thecompleted town. "We don't want to show up in a 'b'iled shirt' and a plughat, and our trousers stuck in our boots," said a figurative speaker.Nevertheless, practical necessity compelled them to build the hotelfirst for their own occupation, pending the erection of their privatedwellings on allotted sites. The hotel, a really elaborate structurefor the locality and period, was a marvel to the workmen and casualteamsters. It was luxuriously fitted and furnished. Yet it was inconnection with this outlay that the event occurred which had a singulareffect upon the fancy of the members.
Washington Trigg, a Western member, who had brought up the architect andbuilder from San Francisco, had returned in a state of excitement. Hehad seen at an art exhibition in that city a small replica of a famousstatue of California, and, without consulting his fellow members, hadordered a larger copy for the new settlement. He, however, made up forhis precipitancy by an extravagant description of his purchase, whichimpressed even the most cautious. "It's the figger of a mighty prettygirl, in them spirit clothes they allus wear, holding a divinin' rod forfindin' gold afore her in one hand; all the while she's hidin' behindher, in the other hand, a branch o' thorns out of sight. The ideabein'--don't you see?--that blamed old 'forty-niners like us, orordinary greenhorns, ain't allowed to see the difficulties they've gotto go through before reaching a strike. Mighty cute, ain't it? It'sto be made life-size,--that is, about the size of a girl of that kind,don't you see?" he explained somewhat vaguely, "and will look powerfulfetchin' standin' onto a pedestal in the hall of the hotel." In reply tosome further cautious inquiry as to the exact details of the raimentand of any possible shock to the modesty of lady guests at the hotel, hereplied confidently, "Oh, THAT'S all right! It's the regulation uniformof goddesses and angels,--sorter as if they'd caught up a sheet or acloud to fling round 'em before coming into this world afore folks;and being an allegory, so to speak, it ain't as if it was me or youprospectin' in high water. And, being of bronze, it"--
"Looks like a squaw, eh?" interrupted a critic, "or a cursed Chinaman?"
"And if it's of metal, it will weigh a ton! How are we going to get itup here?" said another.
But here Mr. Trigg was on sure ground. "I've ordered it cast holler,and, if necessary, in two sections," he returned triumphantly. "A childcould tote it round and set it up."
Its arrival was therefore looked forward to with great expectancy whenthe hotel was finished and occupied by the combined Excelsior companies.It was to come from New York via San Francisco, where, however,there was some delay in its transshipment, and still further delay atSacramento. It finally reached the settlement over the new wagonroad, and was among the first freight carried there by the newexpress company, and delivered into the new express office. Thebox--a packing-case, nearly three feet square by five feet long--boresuperficial marks of travel and misdirection, inasmuch as the originaladdress was quite obliterated and the outside lid covered with correctedlabels. It was carried to a private sitting-room in the hotel, whereits beauty was to be first disclosed to the president of the unitedcompanies, three of the committee, and the excited and triumphantpurchaser. A less favored crowd of members and workmen gatheredcuriously outside the room. Then the lid was carefully removed,revealing a quantity of shavings and packing paper which still hid theoutlines of the goddess. When this was promptly lifted a stare of blankastonishment fixed the faces of the party! It was succeeded by a quick,hysteric laugh, and then a dead silence.
Before them lay a dressmaker's dummy, the wire and padded model onwhich dresses are fitted and shown. With its armless and headless bust,abruptly ending in a hooped wire skirt, it completely filled the sidesof the box.
"Shut the door," said the president promptly.
The order was obeyed. The single hysteric shriek of laughter had beenfollowed by a deadly, ironical silence. The president, with supernaturalgravity, lifted it out and set it up on its small, round, disk-likepedestal.
"It's some cussed fool blunder of that confounded express company,"burst out the unlucky purchaser. But there was no echo to his outburst.He looked around with a timid, tentative smile. But no other smilefollowed his.
"It looks," said the president, with portentous gravity, "like thebeginnings of a fine woman, that MIGHT show up, if you gave her time,into a first-class goddess. Of course she ain't all here; other boxeswith sections of her, I reckon, are under way from her factory, and willmeander along in the course of the year. Considerin' this as a sample--Ithink, gentlemen," he added, with gloomy precision, "we are prepared toaccept it, and signify we'll take more."
"It ain't, perhaps, exactly the idee that we've been led to expect fromprevious description," said Dick Flint, with deeper seriousness; "forinstance, this yer branch of thorns we heard of ez bein' held behind heris wantin', as is the arms that held it; but even if they had arrived,anybody could see the thorns through them wires, and so give the hullshow away."
"Jam it into its box again, and we'll send it back to the confoundedexpress company with a cussin' letter," again thundered the wretchedpurchaser.
"No, sonny," said the president with gentle but gloomy determination,"we'll fasten on to this little show jest as it is, and see whatfollows. It ain't every day that a first-class sell like this is workedoff on us ACCIDENTALLY."
It was quite true! The settlement had long since exhausted everypossible form of practical joking, and languished for a new sensation.And here it was! It was not a thing to be treated angrily, nor lightly,nor dismissed with that single hysteric laugh. It was capable of t
hegreatest possibilities! Indeed, as Washington Trigg looked around on theimperturbably ironical faces of his companions, he knew that they feltmore true joy over the blunder than they would in the possession of thereal statue. But an exclamation from the fifth member, who was examiningthe box, arrested their attention.
"There's suthin' else here!"
He had found under the heavier wrapping a layer of tissue-paper, andunder that a further envelope of linen, lightly stitched together. Aknife blade quickly separated the stitches, and the linen was carefullyunfolded. It displayed a beautifully trimmed evening dress of pale bluesatin, with a dressing-gown of some exquisite white fabric armed withlace. The men gazed at it in silence, and then the one single expressionbroke from their lips,--
"Her duds!"
"Stop, boys," said "Clint" Grey, as a movement was made to lift thedress towards the model, "leave that to a man who knows. What's theuse of my having left five grown-up sisters in the States if I haven'tbrought a little experience away with me? This sort of thing ain't to be'pulled on' like trousers. No, sir!--THIS is the way she's worked."
With considerable dexterity, unexpected gentleness, and some taste,he shook out the folds of the skirt delicately and lifted it over thedummy, settling it skillfully upon the wire hoops, and drawing thebodice over the padded shoulders. This he then proceeded to fasten withhooks and eyes,--a work of some patience. Forty eager fingers stretchedout to assist him, but were waved aside, with a look of pained decorumas he gravely completed his task. Then falling back, he bade the othersdo the same, and they formed a contemplative semicircle before thefigure.
Up to that moment a delighted but unsmiling consciousness of their ownabsurdities, a keen sense of the humorous possibilities of theoriginal blunder, and a mischievous recognition of the mortification ofTrigg--whose only safety now lay in accepting the mistake in the samespirit--had determined these grown-up schoolboys to artfully protracta joke that seemed to be providentially delivered into their hands. ButNOW an odd change crept on them. The light from the open window thatgave upon the enormous pines and the rolling prospect up to thedim heights of the Sierras fell upon this strange, incongruous, yetperfectly artistic figure. For the dress was the skillful creation of agreat Parisian artist, and in its exquisite harmony of color, shape,and material it not only hid the absurd model, but clothed it with analarming grace and refinement! A queer feeling of awe, of shame, and ofunwilling admiration took possession of them. Some of them--fromremote Western towns--had never seen the like before; those who HAD hadforgotten it in those five years of self-exile, of healthy independence,and of contiguity to Nature in her unaffected simplicity. All had beenfamiliar with the garish, extravagant, and dazzling femininity ofthe Californian towns and cities, but never had they known anythingapproaching the ideal grace of this type of exalted, even if artificial,womanhood. And although in the fierce freedom of their little republicthey had laughed to scorn such artificiality, a few yards of satin andlace cunningly fashioned, and thrown over a frame of wood and wire,touched them now with a strange sense of its superiority. The betterto show its attractions, Clinton Grey had placed the figure near afull-length, gold-framed mirror, beside a marble-topped table. Yet howcheap and tawdry these splendors showed beside this work of art! Howcruel was the contrast of their own rough working clothes to thismiracle of adornment which that same mirror reflected! And even whenClinton Grey, the enthusiast, looked towards his beloved woods forrelief, he could not help thinking of them as a more fitting frame forthis strange goddess than this new house into which she had strayed.Their gravity became real; their gibes in some strange way had vanished.
"Must have cost a pile of money," said one, merely to break anembarrassing silence.
"My sister had a friend who brought over a dress from Paris, not ashigh-toned as that, that cost five hundred dollars," said Clinton Grey.
"How much did you say that spirit-clad old rag of yours cost--thorns andall?" said the president, turning sharply on Trigg.
Trigg swallowed this depreciation of his own purchase meekly. "Sevenhundred and fifty dollars, without the express charges."
"That's only two-fifty more," said the president thoughtfully, "if wecall it quits."
"But," said Trigg in alarm, "we must send it back."
"Not much, sonny," said the president promptly. "We'll hang on to thisuntil we hear where that thorny old chump of yours has fetched up and isactin' her conundrums, and mebbe we can swap even."
"But how will we explain it to the boys?" queried Trigg. "They'rewaitin' outside to see it."
"There WON'T be any explanation," said the president, in the same toneof voice in which he had ordered the door shut. "We'll just say thatthe statue hasn't come, which is the frozen truth; and this box onlycontained some silk curtain decorations we'd ordered, which is onlyhalf a lie. And," still more firmly, "THIS SECRET DOESN'T GO OUT OF THISROOM, GENTLEMEN--or I ain't your president! I'm not going to let yougive yourselves away to that crowd outside--you hear me? Have you everallowed your unfettered intellect to consider what they'd say aboutthis,--what a godsend it would be to every man we'd ever had a 'pull' onin this camp? Why, it would last 'em a whole year; we'd never hear theend of it! No, gentlemen! I prefer to live here without shootin' myfellow man, but I can't promise it if they once start this joke aginus!"
There was a swift approval of this sentiment, and the five members shookhands solemnly.
"Now," said the president, "we'll just fold up that dress again, and putit with the figure in this closet"--he opened a large dressing-chestin the suite of rooms in which they stood--"and we'll each keep a key.We'll retain this room for committee purposes, so that no one need seethe closet. See? Now take off the dress! Be careful there! You're nothandlin' pay dirt, though it's about as expensive! Steady!"
Yet it was wonderful to see the solicitude and care with which the dresswas re-covered and folded in its linen wrapper.
"Hold on," exclaimed Trigg,--as the dummy was lifted into thechest,--"we haven't tried on the other dress!"
"Yes! yes!" repeated the others eagerly; "there's another!"
"We'll keep that for next committee meeting, gentlemen," said thepresident decisively. "Lock her up, Trigg."
The three following months wrought a wonderful change inExcelsior,--wonderful even in that land of rapid growth and progress.Their organized and matured plans, executed by a full force of workmenfrom the county town, completed the twenty cottages for the members, thebank, and the town hall. Visitors and intending settlers flocked overthe new wagon road to see this new Utopia, whose founders, holding theland and its improvements as a corporate company, exercised the rightof dictating the terms on which settlers were admitted. The feminineinvasion was not yet potent enough to affect their consideration, eitherthrough any refinement or attractiveness, being composed chiefly of theindustrious wives and daughters of small traders or temporary artisans.Yet it was found necessary to confide the hotel to the management of Mr.Dexter Marsh, his wife, and one intelligent but somewhat plain daughter,who looked after the accounts. There were occasional lady visitors atthe hotel, attracted from the neighboring towns and settlements byits picturesqueness and a vague suggestiveness of its being awatering-place--and there was the occasional flash in the decorousstreet of a Sacramento or San Francisco gown. It is needless to say thatto the five men who held the guilty secret of Committee Room No. 4 itonly strengthened their belief in the super-elegance of their hiddentreasure. At their last meeting they had fitted the second dress--whichturned out to be a vapory summer house-frock or morning wrapper--overthe dummy, and opinions were divided as to its equality with the first.However, the same subtle harmony of detail and grace of proportioncharacterized it.
"And you see," said Clint Grey, "it's jest the sort o' rig in which aman would be most likely to know her--and not in her war-paint, whichwould be only now and then."
Already "SHE" had become an individuality!
"Hush!" said the president. He had turned towards the doo
r, at whichsome one was knocking lightly.
"Come in."
The door opened upon Miss Marsh, secretary and hotel assistant. She hada business aspect, and an open letter in her hand, but hesitated atthe evident confusion she had occasioned. Two of the gentlemen hadabsolutely blushed, and the others regarded her with inane smiles oraffected seriousness. They all coughed slightly.
"I beg your pardon," she said, not ungracefully, a slight color cominginto her sallow cheek, which, in conjunction with the gold eye-glasses,gave her, at least in the eyes of the impressible Clint, a certainpiquancy. "But my father said you were here in committee and I mightconsult you. I can come again, if you are busy."
She had addressed the president, partly from his office, hiscomparatively extreme age--he must have been at least thirty!--andpossibly for his extremer good looks. He said hurriedly, "It's just aninformal meeting;" and then, more politely, "What can we do for you?"
"We have an application for a suite of rooms next week," she said,referring to the letter, "and as we shall be rather full, father thoughtyou gentlemen might be willing to take another larger room for yourmeetings, and give up these, which are part of a suite--and perhaps notexactly suitable"--
"Quite impossible!" "Quite so!" "Really out of the question," said themembers, in a rapid chorus.
The young girl was evidently taken aback at this unanimity ofopposition. She stared at them curiously, and then glanced around theroom. "We're quite comfortable here," said the president explanatorily,"and--in fact--it's just what we want."
"We could give you a closet like that which you could lock up, and amirror," she suggested, with the faintest trace of a smile.
"Tell your father, Miss Marsh," said the president, with dignifiedpoliteness, "that while we cannot submit to any change, we fullyappreciate his business foresight, and are quite prepared to see thatthe hotel is properly compensated for our retaining these rooms." As theyoung girl withdrew with a puzzled curtsy he closed the door, placed hisback against it, and said,--
"What the deuce did she mean by speaking of that closet?"
"Reckon she allowed we kept some fancy drinks in there," said Trigg;"and calkilated that we wanted the marble stand and mirror to put ourglasses on and make it look like a swell private bar, that's all!"
"Humph," said the president.
Their next meeting, however, was a hurried one, and as the presidentarrived late, when the door closed smartly behind him he was met by theworried faces of his colleagues.
"Here's a go!" said Trigg excitedly, producing a folded paper. "Thegame's up, the hull show is busted; that cussed old statue--the reg'larold hag herself--is on her way here! There's a bill o' lading and theexpress company's letter, and she'll be trundled down here by express atany moment."
"Well?" said the president quietly.
"Well!" replied the members aghast. "Do you know what that means?"
"That we must rig her up in the hall on a pedestal, as we reckoned todo," returned the president coolly.
"But you don't sabe," said Clinton Grey; "that's all very well as to thehag, but now we must give HER up," with an adoring glance towards thecloset.
"Does the letter say so?"
"No," said Trigg hesitatingly, "no! But I reckon we can't keep BOTH."
"Why not?" said the president imperturbably, "if we paid for 'em?"
As the men only stared in reply he condescended to explain.
"Look here! I calculated all these risks after our last meeting. Whileyou boys were just fussin' round, doin' nothing, I wrote to the expresscompany that a box of women's damaged duds had arrived here, while wewere looking for our statue; that you chaps were so riled at bein'sold by them that you dumped the whole blamed thing in the creek. But Iadded, if they'd let me know what the damage was, I'd send 'em a draftto cover it. After a spell of waitin' they said they'd call it squarefor two hundred dollars, considering our disappointment. And I sent thedraft. That's spurred them up to get over our statue, I reckon. And, nowthat it's coming, it will set us right with the boys."
"And SHE," said Clinton Grey again, pointing to the locked chest,"belongs to us?"
"Until we can find some lady guest that will take her with the rooms,"returned the president, a little cynically.
But the arrival of the real statue and its erection in the hotelvestibule created a new sensation. The members of the Excelsior Companywere loud in its praises except the executive committee, whose coolnesswas looked upon by the others as an affectation of superiority. Itawakened the criticism and jealousy of the nearest town.
"We hear," said the "Red Dog Advertiser," "that the long-promised statuehas been put up in that high-toned Hash Dispensary they call a hotelat Excelsior. It represents an emaciated squaw in a scanty blanketgathering roots, and carrying a bit of thorn-bush kindlings behind her.The high-toned, close corporation of Excelsior may consider this a fairallegory of California; WE should say it looks mighty like a propheticforecast of a hard winter on Sycamore Creek and scarcity of provisions.However, it isn't our funeral, though it's rather depressing to thecasual visitor on his way to dinner. For a long time this work ofart was missing and supposed to be lost, but by being sternly andpersistently rejected at every express office on the route, it was atlast taken in at Excelsior."
There was some criticism nearer home.
"What do you think of it, Miss Marsh?" said the president politely tothat active young secretary, as he stood before it in the hall. Theyoung woman adjusted her eye-glasses over her aquiline nose.
"As an idea or a woman, sir?"
"As a woman, madam," said the president, letting his brown eyes slipfor a moment from Miss Marsh's corn-colored crest over her straight butscant figure down to her smart slippers.
"Well, sir, she could wear YOUR boots, and there isn't a corset inSacramento would go round her."
"Thank you!" he returned gravely, and moved away. For a moment a wildidea of securing possession of the figure some dark night, and, incompany with his fellow-conspirators, of trying those beautiful clothesupon her, passed through his mind, but he dismissed it. And thenoccurred a strange incident, which startled even his cool, Americansanity.
It was a beautiful moonlight night, and he was returning to a bedroomat the hotel which he temporarily occupied during the painting ofhis house. It was quite late, he having spent the evening with a SanFrancisco friend after a business conference which assured him of theremarkable prosperity of Excelsior. It was therefore with some humanexaltation that he looked around the sleeping settlement which hadsprung up under the magic wand of their good fortune. The full moon hadidealized their youthful designs with something of their own youthfulcoloring, graciously softening the garish freshness of paint andplaster, hiding with discreet obscurity the disrupted banks and brokenwoods at the beginning and end of their broad avenues, paving the roughriver terrace with tessellated shadows, and even touching the rapidstream which was the source of their wealth with a Pactolean glitter.
The windows of the hotel before him, darkened within, flashed in themoonbeams like the casements of Aladdin's palace. Mingled with hisambition, to-night, were some softer fancies, rarely indulged by him inhis forecast of the future of Excelsior--a dream of some fair partnerin his life, after this task was accomplished, yet always of some onemoving in a larger world than his youth had known. Rousing the halfsleeping porter, he found, however, only the spectral gold-seeker inthe vestibule,--the rays of his solitary candle falling upon herdivining-rod with a quaint persistency that seemed to point to thestairs he was ascending. When he reached the first landing the risingwind through an open window put out his light, but, although thestaircase was in darkness, he could see the long corridor aboveilluminated by the moonlight throughout its whole length. He had nearlyreached it when the slow but unmistakable rustle of a dress in thedistance caught his ear. He paused, not only in the interest ofdelicacy, but with a sudden nervous thrill he could not account for. Therustle came nearer--he could hear the distinct frou-frou
of satin; andthen, to his bewildered eyes, what seemed to be the figure of thedummy, arrayed in the pale blue evening dress he knew so well, passedgracefully and majestically down the corridor. He could see the shapelyfolds of the skirt, the symmetry of the bodice, even the harmony of thetrimmings. He raised his eyes, half affrightedly, prepared to seethe headless shoulders, but they--and what seemed to be a head--wereconcealed in a floating "cloud" or nubia of some fleecy tissue, asif for protection from the evening air. He remained for an instantmotionless, dazed by this apparent motion of an inanimate figure; butas the absurdity of the idea struck him he hurriedly but stealthilyascended the remaining stairs, resolved to follow it. But he was only intime to see it turn into the angle of another corridor, which, when hehad reached it, was empty. The figure had vanished!
His first thought was to go to the committee room and examine the lockedcloset. But the key was in his desk at home, he had no light, and theroom was on the other side of the house. Besides, he reflected thateven the detection of the figure would involve the exposure of the verysecret they had kept intact so long. He sought his bedroom, and wentquietly to bed. But not to sleep; a curiosity more potent than any senseof the trespass done him kept him tossing half the night. Who was thiswoman whom the clothes fitted so well? He reviewed in his mind theguests in the house, but he knew none who could have carried off thismasquerade so bravely.
In the morning early he made his way to the committee room, but as heapproached was startled to observe two pairs of boots, a man's and awoman's, conjugally placed before its door. Now thoroughly indignant,he hurried to the office, and was confronted by the face of the fairsecretary. She colored quickly on seeing him--but the reason wasobvious.
"You are coming to scold me, sir! But it is not my fault. We were fullyesterday afternoon when your friend from San Francisco came here withhis wife. We told him those were YOUR rooms, but he said he would makeit right with you--and my father thought you would not be displeasedfor once. Everything of yours was put into another room, and the closetremains locked as you left it."
Amazed and bewildered, the president could only mutter a vague apologyand turn away. Had his friend's wife opened the door with another key insome fit of curiosity and disported herself in those clothes? If so, sheDARE not speak of her discovery.
An introduction to the lady at breakfast dispelled this faint hope. Shewas a plump woman, whose generous proportions could hardly have beenconfined in that pale blue bodice; she was frank and communicative, withno suggestion of mischievous concealment.
Nevertheless, he made a firm resolution. As soon as his friends lefthe called a meeting of the committee. He briefly informed them of theaccidental occupation of the room, but for certain reasons of his ownsaid nothing of his ghostly experience. But he put it to them plainlythat no more risks must be run, and that he should remove the dressesand dummy to his own house. To his considerable surprise this suggestionwas received with grave approval and a certain strange relief.
"We kinder thought of suggesting it to you before," said Mr. Triggslowly, "and that mebbe we've played this little game long enough--forsuthin's happened that's makin' it anything but funny. We'd have toldyou before, but we dassent! Speak out, Clint, and tell the presidentwhat we saw the other night, and don't mince matters."
The president glanced quickly and warningly around him. "I thought," hesaid sternly, "that we'd dropped all fooling. It's no time for practicaljoking now!"
"Honest Injun--it's gospel truth! Speak up, Clint!"
The president looked on the serious faces around him, and was himselfslightly awed.
"It's a matter of two or three nights ago," said Grey slowly, "thatTrigg and I were passing through Sycamore Woods, just below the hotel.It was after twelve--bright moonlight, so that we could see everythingas plain as day, and we were dead sober. Just as we passed under thesycamores Trigg grabs my arm, and says, 'Hi!' I looked up, and there,not ten yards away, standing dead in the moonlight, was that dummy! Shewas all in white--that dress with the fairy frills, you know--and had,what's more, A HEAD! At least, something white all wrapped around it,and over her shoulders. At first we thought you or some of the boyshad dressed her up and lifted her out there for a joke, and left herto frighten us! So we started forward, and then--it's the gospeltruth!--she MOVED AWAY, gliding like the moonbeams, and vanished amongthe trees!"
"Did you see her face?" asked the president.
"No; you bet! I didn't try to--it would have haunted me forever."
"What do you mean?"
"This--I mean it was that GIRL THE BOX BELONGED TO! She's deadsomewhere--as you'll find out sooner or later--AND HAS COME BACK FOR HERCLOTHES! I've often heard of such things before."
Despite his coolness, at this corroboration of his own experience,and impressed by Grey's unmistakable awe, a thrill went through thepresident. For an instant he was silent.
"That will do, boys," he said finally. "It's a queer story; butremember, it's all the more reason now for our keeping our secret. Asfor those things, I'll remove them quietly and at once."
But he did not.
On the contrary, prolonging his stay at the hotel with plausiblereasons, he managed to frequently visit the committee room or itsvicinity, at different and unsuspected hours of the day and night.More than that, he found opportunities to visit the office, and underpretexts of business connected with the economy of the hotel management,informed himself through Miss Marsh on many points. A few of thesedetails naturally happened to refer to herself, her prospects, hertastes, and education. He learned incidentally, what he had partlyknown, that her father had been in better circumstances, and that shehad been gently nurtured--though of this she made little account in herpride in her own independence and devotion to her duties. But in hisown persistent way he also made private notes of the breadth of hershoulders, the size of her waist, her height, length of her skirt, hermovements in walking, and other apparently extraneous circumstances. Itwas natural that he acquired some supplemental facts,--that hereyes, under her eye-glasses, were a tender gray, and touched with themelancholy beauty of near-sightedness; that her face had a sensitivemobility beyond the mere charm of color, and like most people lackingthis primitive and striking element of beauty, what was really fineabout her escaped the first sight. As, for instance, it was onlyby bending over to examine her accounts that he found that herindistinctive hair was as delicate as floss silk and as electrical. Itwas only by finding her romping with the children of a guest one eveningthat he was startled by the appalling fact of her youth! But about thistime he left the hotel and returned to his house.
On the first yearly anniversary of the great strike at Excelsior therewere some changes in the settlement, notably the promotion of Mr. Marshto a more important position in the company, and the installation ofMiss Cassie Marsh as manageress of the hotel. As Miss Marsh read theofficial letter, signed by the president, conveying in complimentary butformal terms this testimony of their approval and confidence, her liptrembled slightly, and a tear trickling from her light lashes dimmedher eye-glasses, so that she was fain to go up to her room to recoverherself alone. When she did so she was startled to find a wire dummystanding near the door, and neatly folded upon the bed two elegantdresses. A note in the president's own hand lay beside them. A swiftblush stung her cheek as she read,--
DEAR MISS MARSH,--Will you make me happy by keeping the secret that noother woman but yourself knows, and by accepting the clothes that noother woman but yourself can wear?
The next moment, with the dresses over her arm and the ridiculous dummyswinging by its wires from her other hand, she was flying down thestaircase to Committee Room No. 4. The door opened upon its soleoccupant, the president.
"Oh, sir, how cruel of you!" she gasped. "It was only a joke of mine.. . . I always intended to tell you. . . . It was very foolish, but itseemed so funny. . . . You see, I thought it was . . . the dress youhad bought for your future intended--some young lady you were going tomarry!"
"It
is!" said the president quietly, and he closed the door behind her.
And it was.
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