"MY TRUEST COMRADE."
He looked forward to the meeting with Miss Wood as if it were to be one
of the epochs in his life. An odd fear took possession of
him--cowardice, inspired by the knowledge that he was not of her world.
Once again he felt like the crude, ignorant country boy, and he
trembled at the thought of meeting this beautiful "society girl" in her
own realm. In the old days he had interested her as if he were a
curiosity; now he was to see her on different grounds. He was to
submit to an inspection which he knew he was not yet able to endure.
As the night drew near for the visit to her home, as arranged by the
glowing Converse, self-consciousness overpowered him. What would she
think of him?
Converse rushed in one day and told him that he had just seen Miss Wood
on the street--in fact had ridden several blocks in her carriage--and
that a strange coincidence was to be related. She was driving to the
Art Institute with his drawing of Proctor's Falls. She had, through
some influence of her own, obtained permission to hang it for a few
weeks. No sooner had his visitor departed than Jud, throwing aside his
work, dashed from the building and off to the Institute. He hoped that
he might see her there; at least, he might again look upon that humble
sketch as it hung among the aristocratic lordlings of art. She was not
there, but he managed to find his picture. A man was placing it in a
rather conspicuous place on the wall.
"New picture, eh?" Jud asked, assuming indifference.
"Yes. It beats the devil how the management lets cranks, just because
they're pretty, come in here and hang chromos. Look at that. Wouldn't
that jar you? Lead pencil and crayon, and as cheap as mud. Next thing
we know they'll be hanging patent medicine ads in here."
Jud walked away. He never forgot that half minute of impersonal
criticism. As he was hurrying from the building he saw a carriage
drive swiftly from the curb below. For one brief instant he had a
glimpse of a face inside--one that he had never forgotten.
She drove toward State Street, in the direction of the big stores to
the north. Hoping for another glimpse of her, he followed. From afar
he saw her enter her carriage and whirl away toward the river and her
North Side home. Then he went back to work and to the letter he was
writing to Justine. It teemed with references to the fairy of
Proctor's Falls.
The next evening but one found him ready for the call, but very
nervous. He felt that he was taking a step into the world in which he
might not be fit to hold a place; a world which would stare curiously
at him as a gifted plebeian, and shut its doors upon him when the
novelty had died.
He dressed himself laboriously for the event. It was to be his
introduction into select society, and he must not let that be the
occasion for the faintest twinkle of mirth in the eyes of those to the
manner born. At the Athletic Club he met Converse, who looked him over
admiringly. If Converse had purposed exhibiting him to Miss Wood as a
matter of entertainment for one night, the plan was not feasible.
Instead of the careless artist or the unsophisticated youth, there
appeared a straight, strong figure, a clean-cut face, keen and
handsome. Indeed, Converse found himself envying Jud's dignity of
manner. He did not know that the apathy of the person who rode beside
him was the composure of extreme dread. Almost before Jud was aware of
it, he was inside the Wood drawing-room, awaiting the appearance of its
mistress. Through the maze he could barely remember passing an august
personage who opened the doors to them and who said that Miss Wood was
expecting Mr. Converse. Then he found himself sitting in a gorgeous
apartment, blankly listening to the undertones of his friend, and
responding with mechanical calmness, so that Converse marveled again at
his conventional bearing. That young man was delighted with the
surprise he had in store for the girl he loved.
She came into the room suddenly and unexpectedly, and the two men
arose--one with a laugh, the other with serious, questioning eyes.
Miss Wood gave Converse her hand and turned to Jud with the smile which
precedes an introduction. He detected the instantaneous gleam of
inquiry, strengthened presently to perplexity and wonder.
"Let me present----" began Converse, but she restrained him quickly.
There was now an intentness in her gaze that brought the blood to Jud's
face.
"I know your face--don't speak, Douglass. Will you let me guess--let
me think? Pardon my extraordinary behavior, but I am so sure I know
you. I have seen you often, very often, I know. You are--oh, dear,
how embarrassing! Yes, yes, I know now!" Her eyes fairly danced with
the joy of discovery and she impulsively came to him with hand
outstretched. "You are the artist--the boy who drew the picture!"
"Yes, you have guessed," said Jud.
"I knew your face. I am so glad to see you. And you are living out my
prophecy, too. Where is the country boy now? What did I tell you?"
She stood before him, her eyes looking squarely up into his face,
bright with smiles.
"I am trying to merit the recommendation you gave me, but I am afraid
I'll fail," said he.
"Fail?" cried Converse. "You've made a sensational hit, Sherrod, and
you owe it to this prophet in petticoats. She made you. If it hadn't
been for her, you'd be down there in the woods plowing hay and digging
cucumbers and nobody'd know you were on earth. If I were you I'd jump
up and crack my heels together, and yell like a cannibal. That's how
happy I'd feel."
The boy's excitement was contagious, and Jud began to lose some of his
embarrassment.
"I am happy, and I'd like to shout my gratification to Miss Wood," he
said. "She fairly drove me to some sort of action. Without her
encouragement I'm sure nothing could have induced me to try my luck
here."
"Oh, you would have discovered yourself some day. Genius like yours
would sooner or later become a master and compelled you to obey. I
merely poked you until you awoke from the dreams and began to see
things as they are. And are you really living in Chicago?"
Then she compelled him to tell her all about himself, his work, and his
plans. She was so deeply interested that his heart glowed. As he sat
and talked with her, forgetting that Converse was present, he felt
himself gradually lulled into security, like that of a traveler who has
crept along the edge of a precipice for miles and has reached a haven
from which he can look back and laugh at the terrors.
For an hour they conversed, seriously, merrily about his experiences in
the city. He was a true gentleman, therefore modest; the pronoun "I"
was used as sparingly as possible, and there was an absence of egotism
that charmed his new-found friend. He was beginning to realize the
success he had achieved in the city, but one look into his honest gray
eyes proved that he was no braggadocio. She saw that she could safely
compliment him on his progress; she compared him as he sat before her
with the country boy she had first known, when she told him that she
knew then that he was a great diamond that needed little polishing.
The magnificence of his surroundings, the beauty of his hostess, the
subtle influence of splendor, softened his first rough feelings of
apprehension into the mellow confidence of ease and urbanity. It was
all so strange and sweet that he lived it over and over again in the
days that followed, before he could convince himself that he--poor Jud
Sherrod--had not really been in fairyland.
There was no questioning the sincerity of her admiration. Converse sat
back and jealously watched the light in her eyes, and listened to the
new fervor in her voice as she talked to the man whose demeanor plainly
indicated that he considered her his guiding star in the journey from
obscurity to light.
"O, yes," she cried, suddenly, a taunting gleam coming to her eyes, "I
have forgotten something quite important. What has become of the
beautiful sweetheart? I never saw a prettier girl. Is she still down
there?"
For a moment the spell was broken. He caught his breath. He had
forgotten Justine--his own Justine! His composure fled, his eyes
wavered before the laughing eyes of his inquisitor. His lips parted
with the impulse to blurt out that she was his wife, when he remembered
Converse. He had led Converse with the others to consider him
unmarried, unintentionally and innocently he knew down in his heart.
His helpless looks from one to the other showed such unmistakable signs
of embarrassment that Miss Wood hastily sought to relieve the
situation, fearing she had committed a painful blunder.
"I beg your pardon. It is not my affair and I----" she began, but
Converse, obtuse and rejoicing in Jud's discomfiture, interrupted.
"O, she's still there, all right, all right. Look at his blushes! I
wish I had the luck he has."
"Douglass Converse, I'll send you to the library if you don't keep
quiet. I hope you will pardon my natural curiosity, Mr. Sherrod," she
said, gravely.
Sherrod caught his breath again and battled for an instant with
something in his throat, then allowed a deeper flush to follow the
first--the flush that comes with criminal bravery.
"I don't mind telling you about her. She still lives down at my old
home and often writes to me about you, wondering whether I have seen
you," he said in a hard voice, fully resolved to deceive for the time
being.
"Don't forget to let me know what she says when you tell her you have
really seen me. I am so interested in her. What is her name?"
Without a moment's hesitation he took the plunge.
"Justine Van."
"What an odd name. Yet she was an odd looking girl. Her beauty was so
different, so fresh, so pure. I hope the gay life of the city is not
turning you away from that jewel down there. O, I know what the city
does for young men who come from the country. It usually spoils them.
They forget the best, the truest part of their lives, and they let new
faces drive out the old and loving ones."
"I--I don't think you quite understand the situation," floundered Jud,
moved to contrition. Had she not interrupted at that instant, he would
have told the truth.
"It is easier to understand than you think," she said. "You are up
here, she is there. You are a new man with new ideas, new
possibilities, new hopes; she is the same sweet, innocent country girl,
no farther advanced than she was the day you left her. You have gone
forward, she stands still. You are Dudley Sherrod, the most promising
of young artists, with popularity ready to leap at you; she is the
common lass of the fields, honest and true, unknown except to the
people who live nearby. You are up here, thrown with bright men, and
perhaps with clever women, while she is back there with the farmers and
the farmers' wives. You have every opportunity to be somebody; she
will always be nobody unless she is lifted from that mire of
inactivity. Don't you see how well I understand the situation? You
have every advantage, she has none. Yes, Mr. Sherrod, you are living
out the promise I made for you months ago, and you are winning only
what is yours by right. But you must not forget that there are few
such jewels here as the one you left behind when you sought treasures
in the world."
"That's the neatest lecture I ever heard, Celeste," cried Converse,
admiringly. "You musn't forget to go back and polish up the jewel,
Sherrod. That's what she means, in few words."
Jud feared that both were laughing at him and resented it.
"I am sure Miss Wood has said nothing that is untrue concerning Justine
Van. She is the noblest girl I ever knew," he said, deliberately.
"She is far above me in every way. She has more reason to stoop to me
than I to her. She is my best friend."
"Friend?" echoed Miss Wood.
"My truest comrade," said he. The perspiration started on his forehead.