Higgins let him in, and across the room Blair saw the figure of the
actress against the light of the long window. Her back was to him as he
came up, and though she knew who it was, she was far from dreaming how
different a man it was that came in to see her this morning from the one
she had known.
"Won't you turn around and bid me good-by?" he asked her. "I'm going
away."
She gave him a languid hand without looking at him.
"Has Higgins gone?"
"Yes. Won't you turn round and say how-de-do, and good-by? Gosh," he
cried as she turned, "how pale you are, darling." And he took her in his
arms.
The vision he had had of her in her coral-colored dress at Maxim's gave
place to the more radiant one which had shone on him in his curious
dream.
"Are you very ill?" he murmured. "Speak to me--tell me--are you going to
die?"
"Don't be a goose, boy."
"I've had a wire from Ruggles," Dan said; "he tells me it's true. I have
nothing but my own feet to stand on, and I'm as poor as Job's turkey."
Looking at her impressively, he added, "I only mind because it will be
hard on you."
"Hard on me?"
"Yes, you'll have to start poor. Mother did with father, out there in
Montana. It will be rough at first, but others have done it and been
happy, and we've got each other." The eyes fixed on her were as blue as
the summer skies. "Money's a darned poor thing to buy happiness with,
Letty. It didn't buy me a thing fit to keep, that's the truth. I've
never been so gay since I was born as I am to-day. Why, I feel," he
said, and would have stretched out his arms, only he held her with them,
"like a king. Later I'll have money again, all right--don't fret--and then
I'll know its worth. I'll bet you weren't all unhappy there in Blairtown
before you turned the heads of all those Johnnies." He put one hand
against her cheek and lifted her drooping head. "Lean on me,
sweetheart," he said with great tenderness. "It will be all right."
A coral color stole along her cheek: it rose like a sweet tide under his
hand. She looked at him, fascinated.
"It's not a real tragedy," he went on. "I've got my letter of credit,
and old Ruggles will let me hang on to that, and you'll find the motor
cars and jewels will look like thirty cents when we stand in the door of
our little shack and look out at the Value Mine." He lifted her hand to
his lips, held it there, and the spark ignited in her; his youth and
confidence, his force and passion, woke a woman in Letty Lane that had
never lived before that hour.
He murmured: "I'll be there with you, darling--night and day--night and
day!" He brought his bright face close to hers.
She found breath to say, "What has happened to you, Dan--what?"
"I don't know," he gravely replied. "I guess I came up pretty close
against it last night; things got into their right places, and then and
there I knew you were the girl for me, and I the man for you, rich or
poor."
He kissed her and she passively received his caresses, so passively, so
without making him any sign, that his magnificent assurance began to be
shaken--his arms fell from her.
"It's quite true," he murmured, "I am poor."
She led him to the lounge and made him sit down by her. He waited for
her to speak, but she remained silent, her eyes fixed on her frail
hands, ringless--tears forced themselves under her eyelids, but she kept
them back.
"I guess," she said in a veiled tone, "you've no idea all I've been
through, Dan, since I stood there in the church choir."
American though he was, and down on foreign customs--he wouldn't fight a
duel--he got down on his knees and put his arms around her from there.
"I know what you are, all right, Letty. You are an angel."
She gave way and burst into tears and hid her face on his shoulder, and
sobbed.
"I believe you do--I believe you do. You've saved my soul and my life.
I'll go with you--I'll go--I'll go!"
* * * * *
Later she told him how she would learn to cook and sew, and that
together they would stand in the door of their shack at sunset, or that
she would stand and watch for him to come home; and, the actress in her
strong, she sprang up for a minute and stood shielding her eyes with her
slender hand to show him how. And he gazed, charmed at her, and drew her
back to him again.
"You've made dad's words come true." Dan wouldn't tell her what they
were--he said she wouldn't understand. "I nearly had to die to learn them
myself," he said.
She leaned toward him, a slight shadow crossed her face as if memories
laid a darkling wing for a moment there. Such shadows must have passed,
for she kissed him of her own accord on the lips and without a sigh.
Side by side they sat for a long time. Higgins softly opened a door, saw
them, and stepped back, unheard.
Ruggles came in, and his steps in the soft carpet made no sound; and he
looked at the pair long and tenderly before he spoke. They sat there
before him like children, holding hands.
Letty Lane's hat lay on the floor. Her hair was a halo around her pale,
charming face; she had caught youth from the boy, she was laughing like
a girl--they were making plans. And as the subject was Love, and there
was no money in the question, and as there was sacrifice on the part of
each, it is safe to think that old Dan Blair's son was planning to
purchase those things that stay above ground and persist in the hearts
of us all.
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's The Girl From His Town, by Marie Van Vorst