Part 10 (1/2)

”At last!” said Philip; and his wife responded with a happy smile. The afternoon trip to St. Barnabas had begun. The two were sitting in the Pullman, at liberty to forget everything in the world but their wedding journey. As yet it was too soon to regard the future; the present was all satisfying. Isabel began to speak of their marriage ceremony, as most brides are apt to do. ”How simple and easy it all was,” she declared. ”I shall always love that darling chapel among the hills. Did you feel the spring coming through the open windows? And did you hear the meadow lark on our way back? Oh, I loved it all.”

Her husband smiled at her natural joy. Then peering into Philip's face Isabel saw again that his cheeks were thin. If anything he was more distinguished looking, yet already she feared for his health. He had been working too hard, and the next month must do wonders for the man she loved. ”At St. Barnabas we shall live out of doors every moment of the day,” she declared. ”I can hardly wait to show you that wonderful country. It will be perfect to go about in the saddle; how glad I am that we sent the horses on ahead and in full time.”

”You are a fairy wife instead of a fairy G.o.dmother,” said Philip.

”Nonsense,” she answered. ”I am absolutely selfish. I love the saddle far better than my dinner, and my only fear is that I may tire you out.”

”No danger; I'm going to astonish you. Besides, you have given me the easiest horse.”

She denied the charge. ”One is as fine a mount as the other. I shall never cease to be thankful to our friend Cole. And isn't it nice that he is to take care of the horses during our stay at the hotel?”

”Pretty nice for him,” said Philip.

”And for us, too,” she persisted. ”I really did not wish to leave madame and Reginald without a coachman. Of course I could have let Tom come, but he is altogether too fond of a good time. Parker threatens to find another groom every week. Besides,” she hesitated, then laughed, ”besides, I wanted Cole and his little wife to have a treat. They will both enjoy getting away from the foothills.”

”I called you a good fairy, now I am sure of it,” said her husband. She smiled.

”Of what use is an income if we may not enjoy it?”

”Absolutely good for nothing,” he answered.

”And it's almost selfishness to do little favors that in reality cost only the thought. Some day we must do something big--found an art inst.i.tute, perhaps on this very coast.” She was thinking of his lost cathedral. ”Then I should love to help talented young girls with no way of reaching 'head waters.'” He looked at her proudly. ”There are so many things needed--so many appeals to choose from, that we will surely find the right place for a little money.” Philip remembered the check which she had sent him over a year ago.

Now her desire to make the whole world glad was part of her new happiness. But soon they talked of other matters, or else looked out through the wide window at charming, changing landscape. All afternoon the train climbed the rugged coast range, often boring its way through a tunneled mountain. At five o'clock they had tea on a small table, when a wonderful sunset touched every hill and spur of their upland road.

Evening came all too soon. Stars began to peep, and suddenly domestic lights twinkled across a populous valley. Then, near by, the great Pacific beat eternal measure on silver sands. It was eight o'clock when the train stopped in St. Barnabas, at the rear of a noted caravansary flaming electrical welcome. Philip had already engaged rooms. Resigning his checks and suit cases to a waiting porter, he led Isabel down the footpath through a garden of palms and flowers. The way seemed fairyland, while on either hand the breath of blossoms filled the night.

”My wife--my precious wife,” he said softly. At their feet stretches of shasta daisies lay as snow. Isabel pressed her husband's arm.

”Could any place be more perfect for our honeymoon?” she asked.

Lapping of waves reached the garden. The newly wed pair did not hasten, yet all too soon the flower-bordered path ended beneath lighted arches.

The two went slowly forward, while just how to pa.s.s unconcernedly from the clerk's desk to the elevator, made them really seem like ”bride and groom.” For the first time each secretly acknowledged happy, bewildered self-consciousness. The blazing corridor filled with beautifully gowned women and men in evening dress, groups of older people back from an early dinner, strains of music calling late diners to waiting tables, gave instant local color to both time and place. Philip scrawling personal decoration on the hotel daybook grew careful and wrote the new appendage to his name with telltale neatness. However, it was soon over.

Neither looking to right nor left the couple bolted past groups of curious women, were all but safe in the protecting elevator, when a familiar voice spoke Isabel's name. Gay Lewis, alert for sensation, faced the grating of the rising lift. ”Delighted to see you!” she called after them. And Philip Barry's wife answered with the smile prescribed under all conditions for a bride.

As they rose above, Philip looked questioningly at Isabel. ”An old school friend of mine,” she told him. He made a wry face.

”Have you many more of them about the hotel?” She laughed softly.

”I cannot say. One never knows whom one may meet in California.”

They were leaving the elevator, following a boy with keys to their rooms. ”I hope we shall not be surprised on every side,” the man persisted. Isabel caught his hand.

”Never mind,” she whispered, ”I'll take care of you. But you must be nice to Gay Lewis. We are simply destined to meet the world over, and Gay has a way of saying things.” The bell boy was beyond hearing distance. ”Not that she has anything to say about us of slightest interest to strangers,” she hastened to add. Philip saw the flush on her cheeks. Was she already beginning to dread unavoidable notoriety? The thought sobered him. Now he understood. But Isabel should not suffer, if being polite to every one in Christendom could help matters.

”I shall bend to 'the higher criticism,' do my best to impress Miss Lewis,” he declared with a.s.sumed gayety.

Then Isabel exclaimed as the door to their s.p.a.cious sitting-room flew open. The place was a bower of roses. ”Did you tell them to do it?” she asked.

Philip forgot a pa.s.sing shadow and smiled an affirmative answer.