CHAPTER XIX

Somehow she made her way home, crept painfully, like a mortally wounded

animal, up the circular staircase to her room. Bracing her shaking hands

on her dressing table, she stared at her reflection in the mirror as if

she had never seen that white-faced, enormous-eyed, stricken girl

before.

Then horror and loathing of herself swept over her with such force that

her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor. As she fell her hand

knocked from the dressing table a copy of The Capital City Press, for

which she was still subscribing, over her mother's protest, to glean

sparse news of David.

She shuddered as the roll bounced from her knees but in another moment

her sick eyes flamed with new life, for half-revealed by the folding of

the sheets was an unmistakable picture of the boy she still loved.

Her trembling fingers gouged at the wrapper. Why was _his_ picture on

the front page? Was he in trouble? Hurt? Or--married?

Sally, crouching on the floor of her room, spread the crackling sheets

of The Capital City Press, her eyes devouring the two-column picture of

David Nash. Two lines of type above the photograph leaped out at her:

"Honor graduate of A. & M. inherits grandfather's farm."

He hadn't been injured or killed in an accident, he wasn't married! In a

frenzy of relief and gratitude to the God she had just been accusing of

deserting her, Sally Barr, who had been Sally Ford, bent her head until

her lips rested on the lips of the photograph. And it was rather a pity

that Arthur Van Horne, "connoisseur of kissing," was not there to see

the passionate fervor of the kisses which the girl whom he had dismissed

contemptuously was raining upon an unresponsive newspaper picture.

When at last she was calmer she read the short item through. It was the

last paragraph that brought her to her feet, her slight body electric

with sudden determination:

"Young Nash is living alone in the fine old farmhouse, and apparently is

as capable in the kitchen as on the seat of a cultivator. He says his

whole heart is in scientific farming, and that his only sweetheart is

'Sally,' a blue-ribbon heifer which he is grooming to break the world's

butter-fat production record."

"David! Darling David!" she was laughing and crying at the same time.

"He hasn't changed! He hasn't forgotten that we're half-married!"

Jerking open a drawer of her dressing table she caught sight of her face

in the mirror, and her eyes widened with delighted surprise. Gone was

the pinched, white, shame-stricken face, and in its place was beauty

such as she had never dreamed she possessed. She turned away from the

mirror, tremulous and abashed, for what she had to do would not be easy.

Her eyes tried to avoid the exquisite photograph of her mother that

stood in its blue leather frame on the dressing table, but at last she

snatched it up and carried it against her breast as she ran to her desk.

She felt that she was talking to Enid as she wrote, pleading for

understanding and forgiveness from those dreaming, misty,

cornflower-blue eyes:

"Mother, darling: I'm running away, to go to David. Please don't try to

stop me or bring me back, for I'll have to run away again if you do. I'm

going to marry David because I love him with all my heart and because he

is the only man I could ever marry without causing you shame. He already

knows the truth, and it made no difference in his love for me. You know

how it was with Grant Proctor. You said yourself that if I told him, he

would not want to marry me. And I could never marry a man without first

telling him the truth. Arthur Van Horne knew and wanted me to be his

mistress. He told me today. He did not think I was good enough to be his

wife. It would always be the same. And so I am going to David, who knows

and loves me anyway.

"Oh, Mother, forgive me for hurting you like this! But don't you see

that I would hurt you more by staying? After a while you would be

ashamed of me because I could not marry. I would humiliate you in the

eyes of your friends. And I could not be happy ever, away from David. I

wanted to die after Arthur Van Horne told me today what he really wanted

of me, but now I know I want to live--with David. Please, Mother, don't

think my love for you--"

She could write no more just then. Laying her hot cheek against the cold

glass of the framed photograph of her mother she sobbed so loudly, so

heart-brokenly that she did not hear a knock upon the door, did not know

her grief was being witnessed until she felt a hand upon her shoulder.

"Sally, darling! What in the world is the matter?" It was Enid Barr's

tender, throaty contralto.

Sally sprang to her feet, her eyes wild with fear, her mother's picture

still tightly clutched in her hands. "I--I was writing you a letter!"

she gasped. "I--I--"

"Perhaps I'd better read it now," Enid said in an odd voice, and reached

for the scattered sheets of pale gray notepaper on the desk.

Sally wavered to a chair and slumped into it, too dazed with despair to

think coherently. She could not bear to look at her mother, for she knew

now how cowardly she had been, how abysmally selfish.

Her flaming face was hidden by her hands when, after what seemed many

long minutes, she heard her mother's voice again:

"Poor Sally! You couldn't trust me? You'd have run away--like that?

Without giving me a chance to prove my love for you?"

Sally dropped her hands and stared stupidly at her mother. Enid was

coming toward her, the newspaper with David's picture in it rustling

against the crisp taffeta of her bouffant skirt. And on Enid's face was

an expression of such sorrowful but loving reproach that Sally burst

into wild weeping.

"Poor little darling!" Enid dropped to her knees beside Sally's chair

and took the girl's cold, shaking hands in hers. "We all make mistakes,

Sally. I've made more than my share. Maybe I'm getting old enough now to

have a little wisdom. And I want to keep you from making a mistake that

would cause both of us--and Court--untold sorrow."

"But I love David and I shan't love anyone else," Sally sobbed, though

she knew her resistance was broken.

"I'm forced to believe that now, darling," Enid said gently. "And I

shall not stand in the way of your happiness with him. That is not the

mistake I meant."

"You mean that you'll let me marry him?" Sally cried incredulously. "Oh,

Mother! I love you so!"

"And I love you, Sally." Enid's voice broke and she cuddled Sally's cold

hands against the velvety warmth of her own throat. "Your mistake would

have been to run away to marry David. You have a mother and father now,

Sally. You're no longer a girl alone, as David called you. You have a

place in society as our daughter, whether you want it or not. If David

wants to marry you, he must come here to do so, must marry you with our

consent and blessing."

"But--" Sally's joy suddenly turned to despair again. "He wouldn't marry

a girl with a fortune. He told me so when he was here."

"That was when he was penniless himself," Enid pointed out. "I've just

read this newspaper story about his inheriting his grandfather's farm.

It's a small fortune in itself, and since there's no immediate danger of

your inheriting either my money or Court's, I don't believe he will let

your prospective wealth stand in the way--if he loves you."

"Oh, he does!" Sally laughed through her tears. "Look!" She snatched the

newspaper from the floor and pointed to the last paragraph of the story

about David. "He named his prize heifer after me! It says here his only

sweetheart is 'Sally'! Oh, Mother, I didn't know anyone could live

through such misery and such happiness as I felt today! I wanted to kill

myself after Van--Oh!"

"Tell me just exactly what he said to you!" Enid commanded, her lovely

voice sharpened with anger and fear.

When Sally had repeated the contemptuous, sneering speech as accurately

as possible, her mother's face, which had been almost ugly with anger,

cleared miraculously.

"The man is an unspeakable cad, darling, but I am almost glad it

happened, since you escaped unscathed. He won't bother us again. I'm

sure of it! He is not quite low enough to gossip about me to my friends.

It is evident that he planned all along to use his knowledge as a club

to force you to submit to his desires. And now that he doesn't want you

any more, he will lose interest in the whole subject. I've known Van

nearly all my life and I've never known him to act the cad before. He's

probably despising himself, now that his fever has cooled. If you marry

David with our consent, he'll probably turn up at your wedding and offer

sincere congratulations with a whispered reassurance as to his ability

to keep our secret."

"_When_ I marry David, not if!" Sally cried exultantly, flinging her

arms about her mother's neck. "Oh, I'm so glad I have a mother!"

"Don't strangle me!" Enid laughed. "Leave me strength to write a

proposal of marriage to this cocksure young farmer who brags that he is

as capable in the kitchen as on the seat of a cultivator!"

"He can't cook half as well as I can!" Sally scoffed. "You ought to

taste one of my apple pies! He can play nurse to his blue-ribbon stock

all he wants to, but he's got to let me do the cooking! And, Mother,

you'll tell him how much I love him, won't you? And--and you might

remind him that we only need half a marriage ceremony--the last half.

Wouldn't it be fun if we could go back to Canfield and let 'the marrying

parson' finish the job?"

"Don't be too confident!" Enid warned her. "He may refuse you!" But at

sight of Sally's dismay she relented. "I know he loves you, darling.

Don't worry. If I were you I'd get busy immediately on a trousseau."

"One dozen kitchen aprons will top the list," Sally laughed.

Four days later the second telegram that Sally had received from David

arrived. "Catching next train East, darling. Happiest man in the world.

Can we be married day I arrive? Am wiring your blessed mother also. I'll

be loving you always. David."

"Of course you can't be married the day he arrives!" Enid exclaimed

indignantly when Sally showed her the telegram. "I'm going to give you a

real wedding."

"I think the children are right, Enid." Courtney Barr unexpectedly

championed Sally in her protest. "A quiet impromptu wedding, by all

means. Our announcement to the papers will indicate that we approve, and

since the boy is unknown in New York and Sally has only just been

introduced, I think the less fuss the better."

Sally kissed him impulsively, aware, though the knowledge did not hurt

her, that he liked her better now that she was to leave his home, than

he had ever liked her. David arrived on Monday, and was guest of honor

that night at a small party of Enid's and Sally's most intimate friends,

at which time announcement of the forthcoming marriage was made. They

remembered having seen him briefly at Sally's coming-out party and so

handsome he was, so much at ease, now that he was to be married to the

girl he loved, that it occurred to none of Enid's guests to question his

eligibility. Sally, sitting proudly beside him, looked happily from her

mother to David, knew that in gaining a husband she was not losing a

mother, as she would have done if Enid had not interrupted the writing

of that terrible letter.

On Tuesday Sally and David, accompanied by Enid and Courtney Barr, went

to the municipal building for the marriage license, and the afternoon

papers carried the news on the front pages, under such headlines as:

"Popular Deb to Marry Rich Farmer." But in all the stories there was no

hint of scandal, no reportorial prying into the "past" of the adopted

daughter of the rich and prominent Courtney Barrs.

The wedding took place on Wednesday, in the drawing-room of the Barrs'

Fifth Avenue mansion, and the next morning, in his account of the "very

quiet" wedding, a society editor commented: "The ceremony was read by

the Reverend Horace Greer, of Canfield, ----, the choice of celebrant

being dictated by unexplained sentiment."

What the society editor did not know was that "the marrying parson" of

Canfield spoke only the last half of the marriage service, beginning

where he had been interrupted nearly three years before.

Sally and David were no longer "half married."

THE END

----

Don't Stop Here!

There are more stories that will thrill and fascinate you for the same

unprecedented low cost.

What greater measure of enjoyment can be gleaned from any source than

from good books? They remove all boundaries, stimulate the imagination

and banish dull care. They lift you out of every-day drudgeries and grim

realities of life and transport you into the realms of fancy and

romance.

Consult the following pages for other White House novels that are

guaranteed to please.

WHIRLWIND

By Eleanor Early

Author of Orchid

Sybil Thorne was 18 when she first got herself talked about. A creature

of moods and tempers, beautiful, headstrong, believing herself a war

bride, she vowed never to marry again. Yet, after promising Craig

Newhall to marry him, the man who told her he could never be jealous of

a dead man, she impetuously married a man she had known but a few days

aboard a steamer for Havana.

Disillusioned after a few days' romance, she returns without her

husband. She does not hear from him until Fate throws her into his path

again as he is about to leave with her sister-in-law. On the day she

gets her divorce, he is killed in an accident. That night "she put on a

dress of flame and went to the Follies."

Almost having decided finally to marry Craig, back from the grave came

her soldier boy sweetheart. Sybil finally finds her happiness, but only

after the greatest tragedy of her life.

White House Novels Are An Outstanding Value

GOOD GIRL

By Roy L. Foley

The greatest mystery in Nancy Deane's life was herself. Scarcely a day

passed that she did not say, "I wonder who I really am."

Then one day Nancy not only found out with crashing suddenness but she

also lost her job.

Which meant she had to look for work in spite of the fact that she was

one of the prominent Deanes.

In quest of a job she is thrown into strange company for her but not so

strange in this jazz-mad, gin-drinking age.

Nancy is a beautiful girl and as a result runs the whole gamut of

experiences that would beset a beautiful young lady from a small town.

As Ginger Varden, sophisticated but big hearted, said, "Listen about the

girl who didn't know she had 'it'."

For the Stories You Like, Read White House Novels

THE YELLOW STUB

By Ernest Lynn

A furious tale of modern crime, involving a clash between a resolved

youth and modern gangdom. A fast, intriguing expose of organized crime

in a large city, with its many ramifications and a plot that defies

solution until the breath-taking climax, written by a newspaper reporter

who knows his underworld.

A staid, respectable citizen of Grafton is found murdered in the most

disreputable hotel in town. The community and the victim's family are

not only shocked but his family is also faced with disgrace because in

the murdered man's room is found a woman's handkerchief.

There is one other clue--The Yellow Stub--which proves to be the key

link in an amazing chain of mystery and which plays the principal part

in removing the cloud which might have hung forever over the dead man's

memory.

With this slender clue, alone and armed only with the weapons of courage

and persistence, the murdered man's son sets out to solve the mystery

and avenge his father's slayers. He is led into a vicious labyrinth of

widely ramified modern gangdom, with danger and death lurking in every

shadow, with unbridled passions ruled by avarice and hate.

His task is complicated by two beautiful women, but Jim Rand succeeds in

his mission, with a climax as surprising as it is dramatic.

A stirring story of the triumph of clean youth over safely entrenched,

organized crime, with a thrill on every page.

White House Novels Are Guaranteed to Please

RIVAL WIVES

By Anne Austin

Author of "Daughters of Midas," "The Black Pigeon," and "The Avenging

Parrot"

Nan Carroll was Attorney John Morgan's capable private secretary ...

"Almost a junior partner in the firm," insisted Willis Todd, Nan's only

boy friend. It was Willis, too, who made Nan realize that she was in

love with Morgan, Morgan who idolized his beautiful selfish wife, Iris.

Shocked at finding herself in love with a married man, Nan decided to

resign her position.

Circumstances made this impossible, however, and before she could carry

out her resolve, a swift series of thrilling happenings threatened to

change the course of six lives.

Here are characters you will recognize as real, faced with problems of

absorbing interest. Romance and marriage, mother love and heartlessness,

woven together to produce a story genuinely thrilling.

Anne Austin has succeeded in writing another story of compelling

interest. When you learn the problems that face the figures in this

book, you will want to read the solution.

Write for Our Complete List

THE BLAZING HORIZON

By Ernest Lynn

The True Story of Pawnee Bill

A thrilling, red-blooded tale of a picturesque character against the

background of hell-roaring towns where men drank, quarreled, killed and

went about their business; of primeval passions ruling the hearts of men

who blazed the path of an Empire; a true story of the early days of the

Southwest.

Gordon Lillie, as Pawnee Bill, the hero of countless men and boys of

this and past generations, stood in the doorway of the restaurant in

Caldwell one Saturday afternoon. Before him were cattle thieves, horse

thieves, Indians, desperadoes, women with hard eyes and painted cheeks.

He stood on the threshold of a career that was to be one of the most

colorful and stirring in the annals of the glamorous Southwest.

More than a novel because far stranger than fiction, THE BLAZING HORIZON

is an authentic account of the opening of Oklahoma, a swift and vivid

recital of the struggle of thousands to gain a niche in the blazing

horizon.

Starting in the eighties, it carries one on a wave of breathless

excitement through the great rush of the Boomers, 50,000 strong, who

stormed their way into the new territory; through days of hardships and

adventure; through hair-raising episodes of courage and chivalry;

through all the pains of the birth of a new country.

Against this picturesque background, Ernest Lynn here pictures a

delightful romance, written after months of patient first-hand research

tracing the career of Pawnee Bill and the birth of Oklahoma.

Ask Your Dealer for a List of White House Novels

JEALOUS WIVES

By Ernest Lynn

Author of "The Blazing Horizon," "The Yellow Stub"

Should there be a single standard of morals for men and women? Should a

wife convict a husband on circumstantial evidence? Is a woman's

intuition always right?

In JEALOUS WIVES is one married couple who preach the single standard

from the angle that each may participate in personal freedom without

objection from the other. But, once put in practice, the agreement ends

in disaster.

Then there are two main characters who believe in the single standard;

that each shall live only for the other. And that marriage succeeds only

after a near-disaster when the husband makes only a timid attempt at

flirtation.

A vivid, fast story of the present day.

Consult Our List for Charming Love Stories and Thrilling Mysteries

Girl Alone · 第 19 / 19 章