ON THE TRAIN.
At the station, which Richard Storms had designated, Judith Hart had
been waiting while three or four trains went by. She did not travel
much by railroads, and this was almost like a new experience to her.
She had brought no luggage, for the pretty dress of black and scarlet,
that Storms had given her, was the only portion of her wardrobe worth
taking away, and she had put that on with a womanly desire to please
his parents with her appearance, which certainly was that of a
beautiful, if not highly-bred, girl.
It was getting dark when a train came up, and Storms, recognizing her
on the platform, made the signal agreed upon, though his face clouded
over, and he stifled an oath between his teeth when he saw how
conspicuous the dress made her.
"I might have known it," he thought; "from the highest to the lowest,
all female creatures are alike. Most of them would go in full dress to
the gallows, if the hangman were fool enough to permit it."
Judith had not seen the first signal, but stood on the verge of the
platform, looking with evident disappointment up and down the train,
when her eyes fell on the department he was in. The next instant she
sprang up the steps and took a seat by his side, but the smile left
her face when he looked up vaguely and turned to the opposite window,
as if her presence was an intrusion.
The train gave a lurch and moved on. Then she ventured to speak.
"You look sullen. You do not seem glad. What is the matter, Richard?"
Storms turned in his seat and scrutinized her dress from head to foot.
"You don't like it?" she said, in some confusion; "but I had nothing
else fit to wear at your mother's house, and I thought you would like
me to look like a lady, as you are to make me one so soon. Forgive me,
if I have taken too much on myself."
"Forgive you for making yourself so handsome? I should be a brute of a
fellow not to do that."
The girl's heart leaped. She had expected harsh language, reproach,
perhaps bitterness, if the dress did not please him; but there was
nothing of this; on the contrary, there was hilarity in his voice, a
sort of careless abandonment, as if some pleasant surprise had been
given him, which he was prepared to accept with acquiescence at least.
This ready, almost hilarious, approval of her dress overwhelmed Judith
with delight.
"Oh, how tired I was of waiting! How happy I am!" she sighed, leaning
toward him.
Storms drew her close to him with a fierce grip of the arm, in a
passion of love or hate which took away her breath; then his arm
released its hold, and he made a gesture as if to push her from him.
"What is the matter?" she questioned, turning her eyes wildly upon
him.
"Nothing," he said; "your curls brushed my face; that is all."
"It seemed almost as if you hated me," said the girl, rubbing her arm
with one hand.
"Hated you! What should make me do that?"
"Perhaps because I come between you and that Jessup girl, with all her
money."
"What is her money to me? It was the old people that wanted it, not I.
Now, all she has got would be nothing compared to what I can give a
wife."
"To think that all this has been brought about by a bit of paper! That
chance lifted me out of myself. Loving you as I did, it was like
opening the gates of heaven to me."
"Yes, the gate of heaven," repeated the young man, in a voice full of
weird irony. "It would be a pity to draw you back."
"It would kill me," answered Judith. "It seems as if a world of
happiness had been crowded into these days, when I am made sure of
being your wife! Can it be? Am I certain of that? Ah, what changes a
day may bring!"
"Yes, many things may be done in less than a day," said Storms, in a
light if not mocking tone. "It only takes a minute or two sometimes
for a man to yoke himself up for life. If one could only wrench
himself free as easily, now!"
"You speak as if I were not quite forgiven for keeping back that
paper," she said with a look of swift apprehension.
"Do I? Well, you will soon learn how I can forgive.
"What do you mean, Richard?"
"Nothing. But this is the station nearest to 'Norston's Rest.' We get
out here."
The whistle of a train coming from the east was just then sounding
sharp and clear in the distance.
Storms left his train just as it began to move, and Judith followed
him. When she reached the platform he turned his face upon her in the
starlight, and she saw that he was smiling.
"Come," he said, drawing her toward the track.
"Step back! Step back! Here comes another train," cried Judith. "How
awfully human that red light blazes in front of the engine! It
frightens me! Oh, be careful."
Storms had flung one arm around the girl's waist and forced her to the
very edge of the platform, as if about to help her leap across the
rails, but she pressed back in terror and clung to him till the train
passed by.
"Why, what makes you tremble so? What did you shriek for?"
"I was so near the edge the hot steam swept over me."
"Over me, too. The engine lurched up so suddenly that I nearly lost my
balance; but that was nothing to get frightened about. Come, now, the
coast is clear, and the old people will be expecting us. You are not
so tired that we cannot walk from the station?"
Judith laughed.
"Tired? Oh, no. I could walk twenty miles if they only ended at your
home. You don't know how I have longed for a sight of it!"
"Come, then. We will go across the park. It is the nearest way, and
you know it best."
Judith did not answer; her usual high spirits were dampened. She only
folded the scarlet sacque over her bosom, and prepared to follow
Storms, breathing heavily, she could not have told why.
No other passengers left the train at that station, and, without
entering the building, these two passed into the village in mutual
stillness. Once beyond that, Storms kept the highway until they
reached the side-gate in the park wall.
"This is our nearest way to the old house. It saves a good bit of
road," he said, opening the gate with his key.
Judith followed him. She knew the path well and took it willingly.
This really was the nearest way to the farm-house.
They were in the wilderness now, threading it by a path that made a
sudden descent to the Black Lake.
"Richard! Richard!" Judith cried out, in nervous haste. "How fast you
walk! It quite takes away my breath."
Storms slackened the rapid pace with which he was walking and threw
his arms around her; then kissed her fiercely upon the lips, so
fiercely that she was not aware that his hand pressed the paper hidden
in her bosom, and she struggled away from him, for the kiss brought
shuddering with it, as if an asp had stung her.
"Why, girl, I thought you loved me."
"I do--I do! Oh, how dearly!"
"But you do not know yet how I can love."
They were descending the path that led to the lake. Now the young man
girded her waist with one arm and hurried her forward almost beyond
her power of walking. When they reached the lake she was panting for
breath.
"One minute--let me rest a minute," she pleaded, holding back from the
bank, which they were walking dangerously near.
"A minute? Oh, yes. I will give you that," he said. "Indeed, I feel
tired myself. Come in here. It will seem like old times."