The rubbered feet across the way hurried their owner into the cigar-store
in front of which he had been standing, and where he had a good view of
the Y.W.C.A. Building. He flung down some change and demanded the use of
the telephone. Then, with one eye on the opposite doorway, he called up a
number and delivered his message.
"Oi've treed me bird. She's in a room all roight at the Y.W.C.A. place,
fer I seed her at the winder. She come with a foine gintlemin, but he's
gahn now, an' she's loike to stay a spell. You'd best come at once.... All
roight. Hurry up!" He hung up the telephone-receiver and hurried back to
his post in front of the big entrance. Meanwhile the bride-elect upstairs,
with happy heart and trembling fingers, was putting on her own beautiful
garments once more, and arranging the waves of lovely hair in their old
accustomed way.
Tryon Dunham's plans were well laid. He first called up his friend the
minister and told him to be ready; then a florist not far from the church;
then a large department store where he had spent some time that morning.
"Is that Mr. Hunter, head of the fur department? Mr. Hunter, this is Mr.
Dunham. You remember our conversation this morning? Kindly send the coat
and hat I selected to the Y.W.C.A. Building at once. Yes, just send them
to the office. You remember it was to be C.O.D., and I showed you my
certified check this morning. It's all right, is it? How long will it take
you to get it there?... All right. Have the boy wait if I'm not there.
Good-by."
His next move was to order a carriage, and have it stop at the florist's
on the way. That done, he consulted his watch. Seventeen minutes of his
precious half-hour were gone. With nervous haste he went into a telephone
booth and called up his own home on the long-distance.
To his relief, his mother answered.
"Is that you, Mother? This is Tryon. Are you all well? That's good. Yes,
I'm in Chicago, but will soon be home. Mother, I've something to tell you
that may startle you, though there is nothing to make you sad. You have
known that there was something on my mind for some time." He paused for
the murmur of assent.
He knew how his mother was looking, even though he could not see her--that
set look of being ready for anything. He wanted to spare her as much as
possible, so he hastened on:
"You remember speaking to me about the ring I wore?"
"Tryon! Are you engaged?" There was a sharp anxiety in the tone as it came
through the hundreds of miles of space.
"One better, Mother. I'm just about to be married!"
"My son! What have you done? Don't forget the honorable name you bear!"
"No, Mother, I don't forget. She's fine and beautiful and sweet. You will
love her, and our world will fall at her feet!"
"But who is she? You must remember that love is very blind. Tryon, you
must come home at once. I shall die if you disgrace us all. Don't do
anything to spoil our lives. I know it is something dreadful, or you would
not do it in such haste."
"Nothing of the kind, Mother. Can't you trust me? Let me explain. She is
alone, and legal circumstances which it would take too long for me to
explain over the 'phone have made it desirable for her to have my
immediate protection. We are going at once to Edwin Twinell's church, and
he will marry us. It is all arranged, but I felt that you ought to be told
beforehand. We shall probably take the night express for home. Tell
Cornelia that I shall expect congratulations telegraphed to the hotel here
inside of two hours."
"But, Tryon, what will our friends think? It is most extraordinary! How
can you manage about announcements?"
"Bother the red tape, Mother! What difference does that make? Put it in
the society column if you want to."
"But, Tryon, we do not want to be conspicuous!"
"Well, Mother, I'm not going to put off my wedding at the last minute for
a matter of some bits of pasteboard. I'll do any reasonable thing to
please you, but not that."
"Couldn't you get a chaperon for her, and bring her on to me? Then we
could plan the wedding at our leisure."
"Impossible, Mother! In the first place, she never would consent. Really,
I cannot talk any more about it. I must go at once, or I shall be late.
Tell me you will love her for my sake, until you love her for her own."
"Tryon, you always were unreasonable. Suppose you have the cards engraved
at once, and I will telegraph our list to the engraver if you will give me
his address. If you prefer, you can get them engraved and sent out from
there. That will keep tongues still."
"All right, I'll do it. I'll have the engraver telegraph his address to
you within two hours. Have your list ready. And, Mother, don't worry.
She's all right. You couldn't have chosen better yourself. Say you will
love her, Mother dear."
"Oh, I suppose I'll try," sighed the wires disconsolately; "but I never
thought you would be married in such a way. Why, you haven't even told me
who she is."
"She's all right, Mother--good family and all. I really must hurry----"
"But what is her name, Tryon?"
"Say, Mother, I really must go. Ask Mrs. Parker Bowman what she thinks of
her. Good-by! Cheer up, it'll be all right."
"But, Tryon, her name----"
The receiver was hung up with a click, and Dunham looked at his watch
nervously. In two minutes his half-hour would be up, yet he must let Judge
Blackwell know. Perhaps he could still catch him at the office. He
sometimes stayed down-town late. Dunham rang up the office. The Judge was
still there, and in a moment his cheery voice was heard ringing out,
"Hello!"
"Hello, Judge! Is that you?... This is Dunham.... Chicago. Yes, the
business is all done, and I'm ready to come home, but I want to give you a
bit of news. Do you remember the young woman who dined with us at Mrs.
Bowman's and played the piano so well?... Yes, the night I met you....
Well, you half guessed that night how it was with us, I think. And now she
is here, and we are to be married at once, before I return. I am just
about to go to the church, but I wanted your blessing first."
"Blessings and congratulations on you both!" came in a hearty voice over
the phone. "Tell her she shall be at once taken into the firm as chief
consultant on condition that she plays for me whenever I ask her."
A great gladness entered the young man's heart as he again hung up the
receiver, at this glimpse into the bright vista of future possibilities.
He hurried into the street, forgetful of engravers. The half-hour was up
and one minute over.
In the meantime, the girl had slipped into her own garments once more with
a relief and joy she could scarcely believe were her own. Had it all been
an ugly dream, this life she had been living for the past few months, and
was she going back now to rest and peace and real life? Nay, not going
back, but going forward. The sweet color came into her beautiful face at
thought of the one who, though not knowing her, yet had loved her enough
to take her as she was, and lift her out of her trouble. It was like the
most romantic of fairy tales, this unexpected lover and the joy that had
come to her. How had it happened to her quiet, conventional life? Ah, it
was good and dear, whatever it was! She pressed her happy eyes with her
fluttering, nervous fingers, to keep the glad tears back, and laughed out
to herself a joyful ripple such as she had not uttered since her uncle's
death.
A knock at the door brought her back to realities again. Her heart
throbbed wildly. Had he come back to her already? Or had her enemy found
her out at last?
Tryon Dunham hurried up the steps of the Y.W.C.A. Building, nearly
knocking over a baggy individual in rubbers, who was lurking in the
entrance. The young man had seen a boy in uniform, laden with two enormous
boxes, run up the steps as he turned the last corner. Hastily writing a
few lines on one of his cards and slipping it into the largest box, he
sent them both up to the girl's room. Then he sauntered to the door to see
if the carriage had come. It was there. He glanced inside to see if his
orders about flowers had been fulfilled, and spoke a few words of
direction to the driver. Turning back to the door, he found the small, red
eyes of the baggy Irishman fixed upon him. Something in the slouch of the
figure reminded Dunham strongly now of the man he had noticed the night
before, and as he went back into the building he looked the man over well
and determined to watch him. As he sat in the office waiting, twice he saw
the bleary eyes of the baggy man applied to the glass panes in the front
door and as suddenly withdrawn. It irritated him, and finally he strode to
the door and asked the man if he were looking for some one.
"Just waitin' fer me sweetheart," whined the man, with a cringing
attitude. "She has a room in here, an' I saw her go in a while back."
"Well, you'd better move on. They don't care to have people hanging around
here."
The man slunk away with a vindictive glance, and Tryon Dunham went back to
the office, more perturbed at the little incident than he could
understand.
Upstairs the girl had dared to open her door and had been relieved to find
the elevator boy there with the two boxes.
"The gentleman's below, an' he says he'll wait, an' he sent these up,"
said the boy, depositing his burden and hurrying away.
She locked her door once more, for somehow a great fear had stolen over
her now that she was again dressed in her own garments and could easily be
recognized.
She opened the large box and read the card lying on the top:
These are my wedding gifts to you, dear. Put them on and come as
soon as possible to the one who loves you better than anything
else in life.