FIGHTING LOYALHEART'S BATTLE
The revue was an unqualified success. Greek Hall was filled to
overflowing, and the money fairly poured into the box office for the
Harlowe House fund. There was a general rejoicing the next day among the
performers, and the same night a social session was held in the living
room at Harlowe House. To Grace it seemed as though she had been wafted
back once more to the dear dead days when the Sempers had held forth.
The presence of Arline and Elfreda was the last touch needed to complete
the illusion, and she went about her work feeling happier than she had
for a long time. Even the shadow cast upon her heart by Tom's absence
seemed less gloomy.
But on the heels of her brief elation trod disaster. Miss Wharton had
chosen to become highly incensed because she had not been consulted in
regard to the holding of the entertainment, and the long-suspended sword
fell. The revue had been given on Wednesday evening, and on Friday
morning Jean had received a note summoning her to Miss Wharton's office.
This time Miss Wharton intended to interview the two young women
separately. She believed that Jean would reveal what she had hitherto
kept a secret if Grace were not present. With unreasonable prejudice she
chose to place the brunt of Jean's refusal to speak upon Grace's
shoulders.
Jean obeyed the summons and came away from Overton Hall with a white,
set face. Almost the first person she encountered on the campus was
Evelyn, who was hurrying to one of her classes, and in her anguish of
mind she poured forth the whole bitter story to her roommate.
"Oh, Jean, why didn't you tell me this before," cried Evelyn. "I never
knew until the night of the dress rehearsal that things were not going
smoothly for Miss Harlowe. Kathleen West told me in confidence that
something was wrong, and asked me to find out anything I could
concerning it and let her know. We must go straight to her and tell her
everything. She can help us if any one can. Just for once I'll cut my
English recitation. Come on. Oh, I do hope Kathleen is at home."
But Kathleen was not at Wayne Hall, and after some parleying the two
girls concluded to wait until she returned from her classes to her
luncheon. It was ten o'clock when they rang the bell of the college
house where Grace had spent four happy years, and for the next hour and
a half they waited in an agony of suspense. When Kathleen arrived they
hurried her off to her room and proceeded to acquaint her with all the
facts in their possession concerning the misfortune so soon to overtake
Grace.
Kathleen listened to them without comment. When they had finished
talking she asked one sharp question, "Do you know Miss Wilder's
address?"
Neither girl knew it, but Evelyn was seized with a bright idea. "Hilda
Moore knows it. I am sure she does."
"Then hurry to Overton Hall and get it from her," ordered Kathleen. "I'm
going to send a telegram. Are you sure Miss Wharton hasn't sent for
Grace yet?"
"Yes, yes. She said she intended to send for Miss Harlowe to-morrow
morning. Evidently she has a reason of her own for not sending for her
to-day," was Jean's eager response. "But she is going to report us to
President Morton and the Board within the next day or so."
"Good-bye. I'll be back directly." Evelyn dashed out of the room and
down the stairs on her errand.
Twenty minutes later she returned. "Here it is," she handed it to the
newspaper girl.
Kathleen had not taken off her hat since her arrival at Wayne Hall.
"Come on, girls," she said. "You must go home and have your luncheon.
Just leave everything to me. I think I can promise Miss Wharton a
surprise."
"What did she say to you, Jean?" asked Evelyn as they left Kathleen at
the corner, headed for the telegraph office, and went on to Harlowe
House.
"What didn't she say. She is going to send me away if she can. I told
her everything, but it only made matters worse. I said over and over
again that Miss Harlowe was not to blame, but she grew harder every
minute. How I despise her." Jean shuddered with disgust. "All this is
merely an excuse to oust Miss Harlowe. Why she doesn't like her,
goodness knows. What is Miss West going to do, I wonder?"
"Telegraph Miss Wilder for one thing. Still, she can't write or come
here in time to save Miss Harlowe," declared Evelyn. "Hilda knows about
it. She said Miss Wharton dictated a perfectly horrid letter to Mrs.
Gray, too, about Miss Harlowe this morning."
"Oh, dear," half sobbed Jean. "It's dreadful, and it's all my fault."
Evelyn did not answer. She could not help feeling that Jean deserved
this bitter moment.
"Shall you tell Miss Harlowe?" asked Evelyn as they hurriedly ascended
the steps.
Jean nodded.
When they entered the dining room, for luncheon they learned to their
utter consternation that Grace had gone for the day to visit a classmate
in Westbrook and would not return until after dinner that night. In the
meantime Kathleen West had hurried to the telegraph office and
despatched the following message to Miss Wilder. "Wire President Morton,
delay action, charges made by Miss Wharton against Grace Harlowe, until
word from you. Letter will follow. Answer. Kathleen West."
"There," she chuckled when she heard the tap of the operator's machine,
"that will help a little. Never mind the expense."
She was late to luncheon, and therefore missed Patience, but toward the
close of the afternoon they met, and Kathleen took her into her
confidence. All evening the two girls remained in the living room
listening intently for the ring of the bell that might mean an answer to
Kathleen's urgent message. At ten minutes to nine Kathleen said wearily.
"It's too late to hear to-night. The telegraph office closes at nine
o'clock. The answer will come in the morning. Even as she spoke, the
door bell rang loudly. Pale and trembling with suspense, she herself
answered the door. Hastily signing the messenger boy's book she closed
the door on his retreating back and returned to the living room,
nervously tearing open the envelope as she walked. Then she cried out in
surprise.
"What is it?" questioned Patience in alarm.
Kathleen held out to her the disquieting bit of yellow paper. "Don't be
frightened. It's good news. See." Patience read over her shoulder.
"Start east to-day. Recovered. Don't write. Reach Overton Friday week.
Keep secret. Telegraphed president. Katherine Wilder."
"Hurrah, we've saved the day," rejoiced Kathleen.
"And Kathleen West and Evelyn Ward have left milestones worth leaving
along College Lane," reminded Patience with a smile that was very near
to tears.
* * * * *
Grace returned to Harlowe House from Westbrook at a little after eight
o'clock in the evening. She found Jean Brent anxiously awaiting her
arrival, and at Jean's request they went at once to her room, where Jean
acquainted her with the bad news.
Grace listened with compressed lips, saying nothing.
Jean wound up her narration with, "I know it is all my fault, Miss
Harlowe, but truly I tried to make things come right for you. I told
Miss Wharton all about myself and tried to make her understand that you
weren't in the least to blame for my misdeeds. But I only made matters
worse. She is contemptible." Jean's voice vibrated with bitter scorn.
"I thank you for defending me." Grace spoke unemotionally. "I hope that
President Morton will overlook the charge against you. I must go now. I
wish to be alone. I must decide what I am to do. Good night." She had
remained standing near the door during Jean's recital, now she opened it
and walked slowly down the hall to her own door.
She entered her pretty room as one might enter a chamber of death. So
the end had come. Well, she would meet it with a stout heart and a clear
conscience. But she would not wait for Miss Wharton to charge her with
being unfit for the trust Mrs. Gray had reposed in her. She stepped to
the library table and, opening a drawer, took out a sheet of her own
monogrammed stationery and an envelope. Seating herself at the table, she
took her pen from its rack. After a little thought she began writing in
the clear, strong hand that characterized her. Her letter consisted of
not more than a dozen lines. When she had finished she sealed, stamped,
and addressed it to President Morton with a firm, unfaltering hand.
Wrapping a light scarf about her shoulders, she stole softly downstairs
and outdoors without being observed by the knot of girls in the living
room. Crossing the campus, she dropped her letter into the post box at
the farther side, nearest the street. Then she walked slowly back,
stopping at her favorite bench under the giant elm. The moon, almost at
the full, flooded the wide green stretch with her pale radiance. The
fringed arms of the old elm waved her a gentle welcome.
Grace sank upon the rustic seat racked with many emotions. How often she
had sat there and dreamed of what her work was to be, and now, just as
she had begun to reap the glory of it, it was to be snatched from her.
The soft beauty of the spring night coupled with the ordeal through
which she had just passed filled her with an unspeakable sadness. She
bowed her head upon her hands, but her thoughts lay too deep for tears.
Yet even while she sat for the last time in the spot she loved so
dearly, Kathleen West and Patience Eliot were standing side by side
reading the telegram that was to bring light out of darkness.