FOR a moment Mrs. Dunlap regretted her words. The terror in the
girl's eyes transformed her face; and the low cry she gave was almost
like that of a wounded animal! But she rallied rapidly and said with
eagerness: "Oh, you are mistaken! It is some other person whose name
you have mistaken for his. He would not—why, Rufus could not do such a
thing!"
"My dear child, I am not mistaken." The very quietness of the woman's
voice and manner carried conviction. "The name is R. H. Keller and the
man who is with you here to-night is the one who sat before me with you
yesterday afternoon, and wrote his name as I have told you, just before
I did on the register."
Suddenly the poor girl broke into bitter weeping. "What shall I do!"
she wailed. "Oh, what shall I do! Oh, mother! If I had never gone away
from you! I have killed her! I have killed my mother!"
"No, you haven't!" Mrs. Dunlap's voice had never been quieter, nor
firmer. "You are going home to her this morning, as soon as the train
goes. In a few hours she will have her arms about you. And when you are
really being married, she will stand very near you, and be the first
to kiss you, and call you her darling. You wouldn't disappoint her for
anything! Come with me to my room and wait until train time. There
ought to be one very early in the morning, and I will see you safely to
it."
The girl seized the little hand bag she had dropped, and spoke
hurriedly.
"Where is the room? Oh, quick! Take me to it, will you? That was what
I wanted; a place to be alone and think. I don't know what I can do,
but I must decide; and I must do it before Mr. Keller comes back,
because—oh, will you let me go into your room and lock the door?"
They both turned hurriedly at the sound of footsteps.
It was a porter to say that No. 37 was ready; and never were fleeter
steps than those that followed his lead.
"Oh, hurry!" the girl said breathlessly as they reached the room, and
it was she who turned the key in the lock after the retreating porter.
Then she dropped a limp heap into the nearest chair and cried.
Mrs. Dunlap left her quite to herself and thanked God for the tears.
"What shall I do if he comes and demands to be let in?" the girl asked
suddenly, looking up at her deliverer. "He is so—so masterful; and he
does not look at things as I do. He thinks that a few hours cannot make
any difference. I know how he argued it out with himself that he could
not leave me alone, and that he would shield my name by giving me his
in advance, but I cannot do it, I cannot! And if he comes and insists
upon talking to me, I don't know what will become of me. I don't seem
to be able to make him understand."
"I know, dear; you will be a good girl and go back to your mother. Of
course you cannot do what he wants. This is my room; he will hardly
come to it without my permission. If you think it is necessary to
explain your absence, I will go down to him, if you will let me, and
explain what is necessary."
"Oh, if you will! I mean if you can! He is very determined; and he is
used to having his own way; I cannot think that he will let me—"
She was trembling so violently that she could scarcely speak.
Mrs. Dunlap passed an arm about her and spoke as she might have done to
a frightened child.
"Don't think about that part of it any more; I am not in the least
afraid of him; and I will take care of you! Have you a kimono in this
bag? Let me help you take off your dress, just as your mother would,
and slip the kimono on for a little while. I have been looking at the
time table. You can have almost three hours of quiet; then I will take
you to the train. We can plan all the details afterwards."
"Oh, you are so kind!" murmured the girl.
"I am going downstairs now," the woman said when the girl had submitted
to her ministrations, resisting the suggestion about the bed, but
allowing herself to be propped among pillows in an easy chair. "I will
come back in a little while; or would you rather have this room quite
to yourself? I can be comfortable down on one of the couches, and I
will come for you in ample time for the train."
"No! Oh, no!" the girl said, the look of fear coming into her eyes
again. "Please don't leave me! And yet you must! Would you mind locking
the door and taking the key with you? I cannot help a feeling that—"
"She is afraid of him!" was Mrs. Dunlap's mental comment as she sped
down the hall with the key in her pocket.
On the whole she decided she was rather glad of an opportunity to tell
that man what she thought of him.
She had little time to collect her thoughts, for the subject of them
hurried in soon after she entered the parlor.
There was an ugly frown on his face. Evidently the interview from which
he had just come had irritated him.
He strode to the corner where he had left his companion and stared
about him perplexedly; then turned an angry questioning look upon Mrs.
Dunlap.
"Are you looking for the lady who was here when you left the room?" She
asked pleasantly, determined to be courteous if possible. "She has gone
to my room to get some rest, and asked me to say to you that she is all
right and quite comfortable for the night."
He strode toward her with a glare in his eyes that would have
frightened a less courageous spirit, and spoke in an angry voice: "Who
are you that you presume to interfere in the lady's affairs?" he said
haughtily. "I have a room for her to rest in, and you will oblige me
by telling her that I am waiting for her, and then by minding your own
business."
Mrs. Dunlap had the advantage of this angry man; she was perfectly cool
and calm.
"You are mistaken," she said. "I have the right to interfere, because
the lady has claimed my protection and I am abundantly able and willing
to give it."
"Protection from what!" he thundered.
"From Mr. Keller, I fancy. I supposed, of course, that the lady in
question was your wife, as I had seen you together during the day, and
noticed how you registered. Since she has informed me that she is not;
and, furthermore, that she does not wish to see you again to-night, I
have aided her in carrying out her wishes and must insist on her not
being disturbed."
"Must you indeed! How do you expect to accomplish the task of keeping
me away from the lady who is under my protection, and for whom I alone
am responsible?"
There was menace in his tone and in the glare of his eyes. Mrs. Dunlap
lifted her eyebrows with a gesture of contempt, but she spoke quietly.
"This is absurd, Mr. Keller. I have no wish to make matters more
uncomfortable than is necessary; but of course you are aware that this
is a respectable house. You are here in company with a young woman whom
you registered as your wife; and you ordered a room for yourself and
her; but she says that she is not your wife, and that she does not wish
to see you again to-night. I do not need to remind you how promptly
the proprietor of this house, as well as its guests, would come to
her aid if necessary; nor that policemen and lockups are conveniences
within call. If you compel me to resort to such measures, you will have
yourself to thank."
There was something about Mary Dunlap when she chose to assert herself
that commanded respect. Keller looked into the clear stern eyes of
this woman and realized that he must not go too far. He glared at her,
baffled for an instant, and when she still continued to look steadily
at him, he wheeled and took a few steps away from her. Then, after a
moment, with a sound that was evidently an attempt at a laugh but was
more like a sneer, he turned and came toward her again, trying to speak
lightly:
"You women are too much for me! I may as well take you into my
confidence, as the lady has evidently seen fit to do. It is true that
the formal ceremony which was to have made us man and wife in the eyes
of a curious world has not yet taken place, but the mere formality
is all that is lacking. If it were not for a wrecked engine and this
infernal delay, Mrs. Grundy, whom you are personifying, would have
been able to sleep peacefully. I registered as I had expected to do
after I had reached the station where the clergyman was waiting for
us, because I did not wish to leave the lady alone, in her wearied,
and nervous state, but desired to minister to her comfort, as I would
assuredly have been able to do, had we not been interfered with in this
extraordinary manner. I did not consider it necessary to explain to the
lady that I had anticipated the ceremony by a few hours, in writing her
name as mine, and thus securing a quiet room for her to rest in.
"I may further say that business complications in which a good deal of
money was involved, have made it necessary for me to move with caution
in this entire matter, and for this reason I brought her away with me
quietly, before the outward forms had been complied with; but she came
without coercion of any sort as she will be ready to inform you, if
you explain that you suspect me of being at least an accomplice in a
case of kidnapping! She will tell you also that she is of age, and that
nobody living has a right to object to her taking a journey at any hour
of the day or night with her chosen husband.
"Now, having, I am sure, satisfied the utmost demands of your
curiosity, if you will tell me where to find the lady, I will escort
her to her private sitting-room; and you need not delay your own sleep
any longer. If it will comfort you to know it, I assure you that three
minutes' conversation with my lady, will be sufficient to allay any
fears that you may have succeeded in working up."
This biting sarcasm, partially veiled at times by mock courtesy, was
concluded with what was intended to be a bow of dismissal.
But Mrs. Dunlap was never more quietly determined in her course of
action. Every word that the man had spoken increased her distrust of
him.
"We need not argue," she said. "You have told me nothing that I did
not know before. Let me remind you that the mere formality which is
still lacking to give you the legal right to take care of this woman
is one that decent people still carefully adhere to, and without it
your action to-night has been contrary to law and respectability.
For this reason, no matter what your motive is, or how many private
sitting-rooms you have been able to secure in this overcrowded house,
I can and will protect the young woman from occupying one of them. I
suppose it is hardly necessary to add that if you make the slightest
attempt to see her to-night, or to interfere with her wishes in any
way, I shall not hesitate to take the hotel officials and the police
into my confidence. If you force me to action, you will find that I am
a woman who is very well-known."
During these words the man's face was a study. Fierce indignation,
doubt, perplexity, intense disgust, each struggled for the ascendancy.
But Mrs. Dunlap was about to leave the room. The necessity for
propitiating her in some way forced itself upon him.
"Wait!" he said imperatively. "You do not understand. Is it possible to
make you understand the conditions? Sit down and let me explain just
what has happened, and what I am trying to do."
His manner became suddenly courteous, and he began to talk volubly,
explaining, in more minute detail than the occasion seemed to call for,
the devious ways by which he had reached this point; enlarging upon
his deep affection for the lady of his choice, and his desire to free
her from the narrow and cramped life in which he found her. Her mother
was a commonplace, narrow-minded, exceedingly prejudiced person who
entirely dominated her daughter's life; so that she was in danger of
having no individuality, he said.
Among other proofs of the mother's folly, she had conceived a violent
dislike to himself; and carried her tyranny to such an extent that the
girl was not even allowed to receive a call from him, unless the mother
was present! Matters were in this state, and he was at an utter loss
how to further the daughter's interests, when his good angel, came to
his rescue. The girl went to spend a month with a very intimate friend,
who had married and removed to a town a hundred miles from her home.
Then, quite unexpectedly to himself, business connected with his firm
sent him to that very town. All the rest had followed, almost, he might
say, because of the necessities of the case. He had discovered that
the young lady's affections were as deeply involved as his own, and
that she despaired, as deeply as he did himself, of ever winning her
narrow-minded mother to take their view of things.
Mrs. Dunlap was called upon to assent to the statement that common
people were apt to have violent prejudices for which they could not
account, and were the hardest persons on earth to move. Still, he would
admit that in carrying out the program that followed he had acted upon
sudden impulse rather than premeditated plans.
When the time came for the lady to return home, Providence seemed to
make a way for them to be happy. He need not explain that he had used
no coercion in the matter; the lady realized only too certainly that
her mother stood in the way of her happiness, and that if she had her
way, the daughter would be entirely and forever separated from him.
This, she felt that she could not endure, and they both believed that,
when the irrevocable step was taken, the mother would have a return
to common sense. So, in a moment, one might say, it was all arranged;
indeed it almost arranged itself. He had a friend in the ministry at a
town which was an important junction of the railroad, and to him, he
sent a message planning all the necessary details; but for the horrible
delay because of that disabled engine, everything would have been
complete.
But the delay and confusion and the necessity for their stopping
overnight at a strange hotel had bewildered and frightened the girl,
unused as she was to being alone, or to thinking and planning for
herself. It was the knowledge of that, which had led him to make the
mistake of registering as he did; he could now see that it was a
mistake. He knew there was but one room to be had, and his only thought
had been to secure privacy for her and the right to minister to her
comfort. At the moment there seemed no other way; but he would admit
that it had a bad look to others, who did not understand the situation.
For himself these outward conventions never seemed of paramount
importance so long as one understood one's self. He had not meant to
tell the girl about it, because she, as a matter of course having such
a mother, was terribly trammeled by conventions of all sorts and could
not be made to understand that what was true IN SPIRIT was the same as
truth.
But, he had been foolish; he was ready to admit it. He was even
grateful for her interference, when he came to think carefully,
although he would confess that at first it seemed unpardonable. He had
been a law to himself for so many years, that he knew he did not attach
the same importance to convention that others did, but he must learn
to do so now, for the girl's sake. Of course everything should be as
she wished. He would not for the world go contrary to the lady's real
desires, but it would be necessary for him to see her and rearrange
their program. After he had learned just what she wanted him to do, he
would spend the remainder of the night in long distance communications,
because of course there were explanations that must be made. Having
interested herself in his charge, would she be so kind as to tell her
that he was waiting for her, and must confer with her at once in order
to send his dispatches? He would detain her but a very short time, and
then she could return to the room that had been so kindly placed at her
disposal.
Throughout this elaborate explanation Mrs. Dunlap had sat silent;
her eyes fixed upon the speaker, and her thoughts busy with this new
specimen of human nature.
Not for a single moment did he deceive her into thinking that he was,
in the main, a true man who, because of his love for a pretty girl
and the sudden temptation of opportunity, had been led headlong into
a foolish and dangerous experiment. Not for an instant did she waver
in her determination to keep those two apart, if possible, until the
girl's mother could make a third in their deliberations.
Yet she made no attempt to interrupt the flow of words, and grew
interested in the skill with which he was explaining the unexplainable.
When he paused, with an evident air of having mastered a difficult
situation, she said:
"You are very kind to give me details, although they do not of course
alter the present situation. It is a relief to know that you consider
your course wrong, but I cannot agree with your way of trying to right
it. I have given my word to the lady that she shall not be disturbed
to-night and that she shall take the home-bound train in the morning.
After she is safe at home with her mother and has had time to rally
from the shock that this has evidently been to her, you may be able to
make such plans as neither of you will be ashamed to look back upon;
but she is in no condition to be consulted to-night; and it may help
you to realize, what I feel quite sure of, that she has had her lesson,
and that any future plans you may care to make must take her mother
into full consideration. You will pardon the suggestion that you must
have had many more years than she, in which to learn wisdom; she is but
eighteen I believe, while you—"
She paused significantly, but the man whom she judged to be not less
than thirty-five at least, was speechless with amazement and dismay. He
had staked much and expected to win.
She turned and left him before he could think of any excuse to detain
her longer.