"We are almost home," said Charles joyously. He felt that it was a very
happy moment.
"Oh, are we going to your home?" she asked, catching her breath and
wondering what that meant.
"Why, yes, didn't you know? I supposed Mrs. Van Rensselaer would tell
you all the plans. She said you did not wish to come down to talk them
over beforehand."
"I know," said Dawn, a shadow creeping over the happy face. "I could
not." She looked at him with appealing eyes, as if she knew he would
understand.
"I understood," he answered her. "You had been through too heavy a
strain, a shock----" He paused.
She looked puzzled, and wondered how he knew that her marriage was a
shock to her. Was it because his eyes understood her from the first?
Was it a kind of spirit understanding spirit? Dawn was not a
philosopher, but something like this flashed through her thoughts.
"But she told me nothing. Indeed, I did not ask. Perhaps it was my
fault," she added.
"Certainly not," said Charles vehemently. "It was her business to tell
you the plans. I expressly asked her to do so after we had them all
arranged. I asked her to see if they had your approval. I should not
have made any arrangements without it."
"Oh!" Dawn had never had her approval of anything asked in her life.
She could scarcely understand why it should be done. It was very nice,
but how and why did this delightful person seem to have had the
arranging of her plans? It was all a mystery, but she could not ask
about it now before the coach driver. Perhaps the future would unravel
the mystery.
"Just how much did she tell you, any way?" asked Charles, lowering his
voice as much as possible, to make it confidential without actually
putting it beyond the hearing of the driver.
Dawn considered.
"Why, I don't really think she told me anything," she said at last, half
apologetically, "except how to behave during the ceremony. I think it
was my fault, I really do. She said I ought to go down and talk it over,
but I said I didn't need to go, that I wanted to be by myself at the
last. I suppose she thought I didn't care about the arrangements. I
never thought I had anything to do with them, any way. I thought that
was all fixed, like everything else."
There was a sad little droop to the corners of her red lips, which gave
Charles's heart an unhappy twinge. The driver turned a suspicious eye
toward them, and they sat silent for a while, Charles thinking it over,
and being somehow depressed that she should feel so about their
marriage. To her, of course, it must be somewhat of a forced thing, but
to him it had been all joy until now when he was suddenly brought face
to face with the situation as he thought he saw it.
Dawn was going over sadly all their bright beautiful day together, and
thinking, wondering, how near it was to the end, and whether she would
ever see this dear companion again. She treasured every moment of his
company, even when they were silent together; every glance, every
syllable, yes, every kiss and gentle touch of his hand; even while she
dimly perceived (and chided herself) that this was not the right
attitude for a bride of a few hours to have toward a man who was not her
husband. But to her it was like stolen sunshine to a lifetime prisoner.
She felt she must take it, as it would never pass her way again. All
the same, her conscience was beginning to trouble her, for she was
naturally a right-minded girl, and, in spite of the fact that her ideals
of married life were not as some girls', she had her own ideas of what
should be. She turned toward him suddenly:
"I want to tell you how much I thank you for this beautiful day," she
said, her heart in her eyes. "It is the best day I ever had--I mean our
part of it. I was afraid I might not have another chance to tell you."
The dusk was growing deeper now, and dim lights ahead showed that a town
was not far away. Charles reached out his hand and took hers gently in
his own, hiding them both under his coat on the seat between them. The
driver was looking the other way, hunting for his big tin horn,
wherewith to announce his approach somewhere, and had not seen.
"Dear! You dear!" Charles murmured softly in her ear. "But there'll be
plenty of chances to tell me everything soon now."
"Oh, will there?" she said joyfully. "I was afraid there wouldn't be."
"Did you think we were going to spend our days in a coach?" he laughed.
Dawn's hand trembled in the big, comforting grasp, and longed to settle
down and take strength from it; but she knew she ought to put a stop to
this, and she sat shrinking and pondering how to draw away her hand
without offending her kind friend, who, in spite of his frank, true
eyes, seemed not to have a thought but that the course he was pursuing
was perfectly right and proper. It all puzzled her, more and more as
she felt the approach of the moment when she must meet her unwelcome
bridegroom.
A long blast on the driver's horn sent a startled shock through her
slender frame, and instantly Charles's grasp on the little, timid hand
tightened, as if he would enfold her in his greater strength and soothe
her fears. She was glad it was dark, for she was sure there were tears
in her eyes; yet she dared not lift her other hand to wipe them away,
lest he see her.
With a swirl and a lurch the coach turned in at an open gateway and
drove furiously up to a wide farm-house on a hill behind a circle of elm
trees. The driver jumped down and began to unfasten a trunk from
behind. Dawn could not see whether it was her own or not, but she took
heart from the fact that Charles sat still and steadily held her hand,
and that other people were climbing out of the coach below, and talking
to a man and woman who came out of the big hall door in a stream of
light to greet them. This was not her new home yet, then. There were
still a few moments more of grace before her doom should fall. Now she
must know. It was her only chance. In a moment more the driver would
be back beside them, and perhaps the next stop would end their ride.
She leaned over close to Charles and whispered in his ear: "Tell me
quick before the driver comes back: will _he_ be there?" The tears were
trembling on her lashes. She was glad she was not on the side of the
coach next to the house.
"Will who be there, dear?" murmured Charles, marvelling at the sweetness
of having her so close to him.
"Oh, don't you know?" she said desperately, as if it hurt her to speak
the name. "Why--my--Mr. Winthrop--Mr. Harrington Winthrop."
It was a pitiful attempt to put into the name the dignity that her
position as wife demanded. She was scarcely more than a little girl,
and her situation was terrible to her.
Charles started and looked down at her. Was she still wanting to see
the man who had sought to do her so terrible an injury, or was she
dreading to see him? He looked at her and saw fear written in her eyes,
and his heart was touched. However she might have felt toward
Harrington before, of course now she dreaded having to meet him after
what he had done. But whatever had put into her head the idea that he
would be there? How strange of Mrs. Van Rensselaer not to have told her
that Harrington had gone away on the train with his wife!
"No, he will not be there!" he said almost harshly, "I doubt if he is
ever there again."
There was something in his tone that Dawn could not understand, but she
must find out quickly what it all meant, though she was trembling now
from head to foot, and scarcely knew what question to ask next. It was
all so strange and mixed up.
"Then, where--where will I have to meet him?" she asked, grasping his
arm with her free hand and watching his face as if her very life
depended upon the answer.
Charles looked down at her, his whole soul in his eyes.
"Never, dear, never. I will guard you from that, at least."
"Oh, why!" cried Dawn, more than ever bewildered by his words.
"Why--but, how can you? Hasn't he the right? Wasn't I married to him
this morning? Nobody can keep us apart now, can they? The minister
said, 'Till death do you part!'" A long, slow shudder passed over her
as she spoke, and though her words were low, lest some one hear, her
tone was like the cry of one who had given up for lost.
Forgetting the people who were clattering joyous welcomes below, Charles
put his arm close about her, as if he were shielding her from a present
terrible danger. He looked into her face and spoke in low, firm tones:
"I don't just seem to understand you, dear, but you mustn't be so
frightened. There isn't anything in the world to be afraid of. I will
try to make everything just as you want it----"
"But how can you?" Dawn's breath came in short sobs. She was almost at
the limit of her self-control. "Will he let you? Will it be right?"
"Dear, listen! I don't know what you mean by some of the things you
have said. I'm afraid all the trouble has upset you. Perhaps you have
a fever----"
"No! No!" said Dawn, almost impatiently, for she saw that the driver
had landed the trunk on the piazza and was preparing to come back to the
coach, and that some of the passengers were climbing in again. There
would be but a moment more.
"It is I that do not understand," she added, and her voice was very
steady. She felt as if she must make her meaning plain now. "I was
married to him this morning, and now he is gone away somewhere, and you
say I need never see him again. He went away just after the ceremony.
They said his mother fainted and he took her away. I have not seen him
since. What does it all mean? I do not understand. It is like some
awful dream."
Charles's heart sank in horror as he listened to her words. Had she
lost her mind, or, more awful yet, had she in some mysterious way been
married to him without knowing it? The latter seemed almost incredible,
yet if it were true, what sorrow might it not mean to them both! Poor
child! He must be very gentle with her, whatever were the case. And
meantime the driver's foot was upon the wheel.
Charles leaned over as if to tuck the linen robe about her to protect
her from the dust, and whispered:
"You were not married to him at all. Don't you remember?"
"Do you mean I was not married, then? But I heard the minister say the
words, 'I pronounce you husband and wife, and what God hath joined----'"
Dawn shuddered again. "I heard it. I didn't look up, but I heard it.
You needn't be afraid to tell me the truth. I will not cry or
anything."
The driver plumped down on the seat with a loud laugh at some joke the
old farmer was getting off, and vowed he would be late if they kept him
any longer, that he must go around by Applebee's and Deacon Forsythe's
yet, and it was almost dark. Then with another hearty laugh he
chirruped to his horses, and they strained and started, and with a lurch
and a swirl of the coach they were flying down the stony road to the
gate again, and there was no more opportunity to talk unheard.
Dawn braced herself to endure the awful uncertainty that her question
had put into tangible form, and Charles, as he took hold of the little,
trembling hand once more with a reassuring pressure, sought in his mind
for something to say which should calm her fears and at the same time
not enlighten the driver as to their subject of conversation.
"Don't worry," he said in a tone that tried to be light and gay. "I'll
explain it all as soon as we get home. Meantime, do you want to be told
where we are?" and he launched into a voluble description of the people
who dwelt along the road.
Dawn understood, and kept silent except for a monosyllable now and then,
to keep up appearances before the driver, and presently the coach halted
again before the gate of another farm-house, where the gleaming candles
from the many-paned windows testified to the comfort of the inhabitants.
To their relief, the driver jumped down again to deliver a big package,
and they had another moment to talk.
"Wasn't I married at all, then? Tell me quick, please," she pleaded,
the minute the driver had left them.
"Yes, but not to Harrington," he said gravely. He had not yet decided
how he ought to tell her or whether he had not better wait until they
were at home, lest it make her ill. It seemed so strange for her to
talk in this way. He paused an instant, and looked keenly into her
face, but the light from the coach lantern did not shine in the right
way for him to see her clearly, and it was dark now. He did not see the
wave of relief that swept over her anxious face.
"Oh!" she gasped, as if a great burden had suddenly been lifted from her
and she could breathe the free air again. "Oh!" And for a minute she
could think of nothing else save that she was free from the man she had
come to dread almost more than death. How it came about, or what else
might have happened, must stand in abeyance until she could take in this
great, soul-reviving truth. She was not married to Harrington Winthrop!
Charles waited an instant, and then, seeing that the driver would soon
be back, and that Dawn was not going to ask a question to help him on,
he spoke again.
"Don't you remember, Dawn"--his voice lingered over the name, the first
time he had used it, and it went through her heart with a wonderful
thrill--"don't you remember that you and I were married this morning?"
"Oh, was it you?"
Dawn's face shone up at him out of the darkness, but he dared not
interpret the look. The driver suddenly jumped up on the seat and
started the horses on again, but Dawn clasped her hands close about his
arm and clung to him in the darkness, her whole soul surging with
gladness.
He held her arm close to him within his own, but his heart was beating
anxiously to know what effect this would have upon her, and whether she
remembered now. At last she ventured the question--for how could the
driver attach any significance to such simple words:
"Are you sure?"
"Sure!" he answered gravely, and added as if he could not keep the words
back: "Are you glad or sorry?"
"Oh, glad, glad!" instantly came the words, and then they said no more,
but let the joy and the wonder of it sweep over them. They were both
very young and very happy just then, and what are hows and whys to such
as they?
The lights of the village grew closer, and beamed past them, and in a
moment more, with a rattle and flourish, they drew up before the old
Winthrop house, a beautiful colonial structure, with lights in all the
windows and a festive air about it that made all the passengers in the
coach look out and wonder. A shout of laughter, and, "Here they come!"
was heard from the house, and Betty, in white, with blue ribbons all in
a flutter, came flying down the path of light from the open door to
greet them.
"I'll explain it all when we get by ourselves, dear," whispered Charles,
leaning over her again, as if to see if she was leaving any baggage
behind. "Don't worry. Just be happy."
"Oh, I will!" laughed Dawn joyously. "But how did it ever come to be
true?" And then as she got down from the coach she was instantly
smothered in Betty's open arms.