CHAPTER XVIII
THE PREPARED ROOM
The trip down to the big river was not altogether to Glen's liking.She preferred to stay at home, as she hoped to be able to spend part ofthe day with Reynolds, But her father had insisted upon heraccompanying him, for he well knew why she wished to remain behind.
"It will do you good," he told her. "You need a change."
"I certainly do," was the emphatic reply. "I wish you would leave thisplace, daddy. I am tired living up here, where there are no people ofmy own age with whom I can associate."
Weston looked at his daughter in surprise.
"You used to be happy here, Glen. What has come over you?"
"I am older now, daddy, and see things in a different light. What isthe good of my education if I am to spend the rest of my days in aplace like this? The north is all right in a way, but for a girl suchas I am the life is too narrow. It is a splendid region for a personwho wishes to lead the quiet life, but I am not ready for that atpresent."
Weston made no reply to his daughter's words, but remained silent forsome time as he stood with Sconda in the wheel-house. A worriedexpression appeared in his eyes, and his brow often knit in perplexity.He was keenly searching his own heart and mind such as he had not donein years. It was the first time that Glen had spoken to him socandidly about leaving the north, and he realised that she meant whatshe said.
There was a large bag of mail waiting for them, at the trading-post,and among the letters Glen found several from a number of her girlfriends of the Seminary. As she read these on her way back upstream,she became more discontented than ever. They all told of the goodtimes the girls were having in their various homes during theirholidays, of parties, auto rides, and the numerous incidents which meanso much to the young. Glen laid each letter aside with a sigh. It wasthe life for which she longed, and what could she write in return?There was only one event which deeply interested her, and of that shecould not speak.
She was tired when she reached home, and after supper went at once toher own room. She took with her a number of books, magazines, andnewspapers, and although the latter were several weeks old, she eagerlyread the doings of the outside world, especially items of news aboutpersons she knew. She was lying upon a comfortable couch as she read,near the window fronting the lake. The light from the shaded lamp onthe little table at her head threw its soft beams upon the printedpage, and brought into clear relief the outlines of her somewhat tiredface. It was a face suddenly developed from girlhood into womanhood,as the bud blossoms into the beautiful flower. Glen's heart cried outfor companionship, and the bright sunshine of happy young livessurrounding her.
Throughout the day her thoughts had been much upon him who had recentlycome into her life. The sight of him standing upon the shore thatmorning had thrilled her, and she longed to give him a word ofencouragement. So lying there this evening, with her paper at lengththrown aside, she wondered what he was doing, and how he was enduringhis captivity. Surely her father would not submit him to the Ordealafter what she had told him about her love. She tried to think ofsomething that she could do, but the more she thought the more helplessshe seemed to be.
At last she arose and went downstairs. She heard voices in herfather's room, but who was with him she could not tell, as the door wasalmost closed. Going at once to the piano, she struck the few noteswhich brought Reynolds to her side. His unexpected presence startledher, and by the time she was on her feet, he had her hand in his andhis strong arms around her. Not a word was said for a few seconds ashe held her close. A great happiness such as she had never knownbefore swept upon her. He loved her! That was the one idea whichsurged through her wildly-beating heart. Time was obliterated, fearsand doubts vanished, and with him whom she loved holding her in hisarms, it seemed as if heaven had suddenly opened. Her face wasupturned to his, and in an instant Reynolds bent and imprinted afervent kiss upon her slightly parted lips.
With a start Glen glanced toward the door, and gently untwined herlover's arms. Her face, flushed before, was scarlet now. Never beforehad the lips of man except her father's touched her own, and therapture of the sensation was quickly succeeded by a strong maidenlyreserve. What should she do? she asked herself. How could she atonefor her indiscretion? She turned instinctively to the piano.
"Play. Sing," Reynolds ordered in a low voice, charged with deepemotion.
"What shall I play?" Glen faintly asked as she mechanically turned overseveral sheets of music.
"Anything; it doesn't matter, so long as you play. There, that, 'TheLong, Long Trail'; I like it."
Touching her fingers lightly to the keys, Glen played as well as theagitated state of her mind would permit. And as she played, Reynoldssang, such as he had never sung before. Presently Glen joined him, andthus together they sang the song through.
Across the hall Weston sat alone and listened. The stern expressionhad disappeared from his face, and his head was bowed in his hands.
"It has been a long, long trail to me," he murmured, "but the end seemsin sight."
The music of another song now fell upon his ears. Again they weresinging, and he noted how perfectly their voices blended. Ere long themusic was interrupted by laughter, the cause of which Weston could nottell, but he was fully aware that the young couple were happy together,and apparently had forgotten all about him. At one time this wouldhave annoyed him, but it affected him now in a far different manner, atwhich he was surprised.
Glen and Reynolds, however, had not forgotten the silent man in theother room, and at times they glanced anxiously toward the door. Theyboth felt that their happiness would soon end, and then would come thecruel separation. But as the evening wore on and nothing occurred tomar their pleasure, they wondered, and spoke of it in a low whisper toeach other. They sang several more songs, but most of the time theypreferred to talk in the language which lovers alone know, a languagemore expressive in the glance, the flush of the cheeks, and theaccelerated heartbeats, than all the fine words of the masters ofliterature. Time to them was a thing of naught, for they were standingon the confines of that timeless kingdom, described on earth as heaven.
The entrance of Nannie at length broke the spell, and brought themspeedily back to earth. They knew that she was the bearer of somemessage from the master of the house, and what would that message be?But the woman, merely smiled as she came toward them, and informedReynolds that it was getting late, and that his room was ready.
"Do you mean that I am to spend the night here?" he asked in surprise.
"It is the master's wish," was the reply. "He gave the order, and yourroom is ready. I will show you the way."
Reynolds glanced at Glen, and the light of joy that was beaming in hereyes told him all that was necessary.
"You are the first visitor to spend the night here," she said. "Mayyour dreams be pleasant, for they are sure to come true.
"'Dreams to-night which come to you Will prove at length to be really true.'"
"May they be pleasant ones, then," Reynolds laughingly replied, as hereluctantly bade the girl a formal good-night, and followed Nannie outof the room.
The latter led him at once upstairs, and showed him into a room on thewest side of the house. Reynolds was astonished at the manner in whichit was furnished. He looked about with undisguised wonder andadmiration.
"Why, this is a room for a prince!" he exclaimed. "I never slept insuch a luxurious place in my life. Your master must have notablevisitors at times." Then he recalled Glen's words. "But am I reallythe first visitor who ever stayed here all night?"
"You must be the favored one for whom this room has been waiting," thewoman quietly replied. "You must be the prince."
"And this room has never been occupied before?"
"Never. When I came here years ago, the master told me that this roomwas not to be used, but must always be in readiness, for some day itwould be unexpectedly needed. I never understood his meaning un
tilto-night. But, there, I must not talk any more. Good-night, sir, andmay sweet dreams be yours."
Reynolds found it difficult to get to sleep, although the bed was softand comfortable, and he was tired after the excitement of the day andevening. At times he felt that he must be dreaming, for it did notseem possible that he had again met Glen, held her close, kissed her,and she had not objected. His heart was filled with happiness, andwhen at last he did fall asleep, his dreams were of her. But mingledwith his visions was Curly, who appeared dark and sinister, threateningnot only himself, but her who was so dear to him. He saw the villainin the act of harming her, while he himself was powerless to assisther. He was bound, and no matter how he struggled, he was unable tofree himself.
He awoke with a start, and looked around. It was only a dream, and hegave a sigh of relief. He then remembered what Glen had said to himthe night before, and he smiled. He was not the least bitsuperstitious, and had no belief in such notions. Let Curly or anyoneelse attempt to lay hands on the girl he loved, and it would not bewell for him. He knew that the expelled rascal was capable of anydegree of villainy, but that he would venture again near Glen West wasmost unlikely.
It was daylight now, so hurriedly dressing, Reynolds hasteneddownstairs. Glen was waiting for him in the dining-room, and a brightsmile of welcome illumined her face as he entered. They were alone,and Reynolds longed to enfold her in his arms, and tell her all thatwas in his heart. He refrained, however, remembering how hisimpetuosity had carried him too far the previous evening. But it wasdifferent then, as he expected it would, be the last time he might seeher, and he needed the one sweet kiss of remembrance. Now she was withhim, and he felt sure of her love.
Weston and Nannie did not make their appearance, and as Glen sat at thehead of the table and poured the coffee, she explained that theyalready had their breakfast.
"They are earlier than we are," Reynolds replied. "I had no idea itwas so late."
"Didn't you sleep well?" Glen asked.
"Never slept better, that is, after I got to sleep. The wonderfulevents of last night kept me awake for a while."
Glen blushed and her eyes dropped. She did not tell how she, too, hadlain awake much longer than anyone else in the house, nor that herpillow was moist with tears of happiness.
"I hope your dreams were pleasant," she at length remarked, "You knowthe old saying."
Reynolds' mind seemed suddenly centred upon the piece of meat be wascutting, and he did not at once reply. This Glen noticed, and anexpression of anxiety appeared in her eyes.
"Do you wish me to tell you?" Reynolds asked, lifting his eyes to hers.
"If you don't mind. But I am afraid your dreams were bad."
"Not altogether; merely light and shade. The light was my dream ofyou, while the shade was of Curly."
"You dreamed of him!" Glen paused in her eating, while her face turnedpale.
"There, now, I am sorry I mentioned it, Miss Weston. I knew it wouldworry you. But perhaps it is just as well for you to know."
"Indeed it is, especially when it concerns that man. Oh, he is not aman, but a brute. Please tell me about your dream."
In a few words Reynolds told her all, and when he had ended she sat forsome time lost in thought. Her right arm rested upon the table, andher sunbrowned, shapely fingers lightly pressed her chin and cheek.She was looking out of the window which fronted the lake, as if she sawsomething there. The young man, watching, thought he never saw herlook more beautiful. Presently a tremor shook her body. Then she gavea little nervous laugh, and resumed her breakfast.
"I am afraid I am not altogether myself this morning," she apologized."But how can I help feeling nervous so long as Curly is anywhere inthis country?"
Reynolds was about to reply when Nannie entered and told him that themaster of the house wished to see him. With a quick glance at Glen,and asking to be excused, he left the room, expecting that the stormwhich had been so mercifully delayed was now about to break.