Part 47 (2/2)

She came right away, like as if she was more than glad to have a talk.

I didn't expect that, so I'd brought along a canary--to make her think it was hers--the one she'd left behind, you see,--so she couldn't just refuse to see me. Well, we talked. There wasn't any quarreling. She wasn't a bit broke up--that surprised me. And it threw me clean off my guard. She was highty-tighty, as you might say, and I'll admit it hurt. We shook hands though, when I went, but she didn't ask me to stay to tea.” He turned to Farvel. ”One thing she said about the child she wanted you to know.”

”What?”

”It's not your daughter, sir.”

”Ah.”

”And I hear from the St. Clair woman that the little one isn't as old as Clare said. So----”

”I understand.”

”Well, this morning, when I woke up--I didn't sleep much to speak of last night--I got to thinking about--her. And I made up my mind that I'd go look her up, and--and be a friend to her anyhow.” His voice broke. ”I was fond of her, Miss Milo.”

”She was gone?”

He nodded. ”She'd been gone since the night before. Went out, the maid said, with no hat on and a letter in her hand--for the post. And she hadn't come back. I tell you, that worried me. I was half-crazy.”

He tried to control his voice, to keep back the tears.

”Then it's very bad news,” ventured Farvel. He laid a hand on the other man's sleeve.

”I went over to the St. Clair house,” Hull went on. ”Clare hadn't been there. Then--I knew. So I went to the one place--that was likely----”

”You mean----” asked Farvel. ”Oh, not that! Not that!”

”She was there. She'd spoken about the river. That's why I was sure.”

”The river!” gasped Sue. ”Oh, what are you saying?”

”She'd done as she said,” answered Hull, quietly.

Sue sank to a bench. ”Oh, that cry of hers, yesterday!” she reminded, breaking down. ”Do you remember, Mr. Farvel? When she saw you--'It's all over! It's all over!' Oh, why did I let her out of my sight!”

”It's my fault,” declared Hull, hoa.r.s.ely. ”I was too hard on her. Too hard.” He turned away.

Farvel went to him and held out his hand. Hull took it, and they stood in silence for a long moment. Then Hull drew back. There was a queer, distorted smile on his face. ”This comes of a man's thinking he's smart,” he declared. ”I wanted to show her I was on--instead of letting her explain it all to me. But I've always been like that--too smart--too smart.” He turned and went out, walking unsteadily.

It was Sue who broke the news to Hattie. And when the latter had left to rejoin her mother at the hotel (for it was agreed that it would be better if Farvel and the girl did not see each other again until later). Sue came back into the Close--to wait for Barbara.

She waited beside the dial. There was nothing girl-like in her posture. Her shoulders were as bent as Hull's had been. The high color was gone from her face. And the gray eyes showed no look of youth. She felt forsaken, and old, and there was an ache in her throat.

”Well, the poor trapped soul is gone,” she said presently, out loud to herself. She looked down at the dial. ”Time is not for her any more.

But rest--and peace.”

What changes had come while just these last twenty-four hours were flying! while the shadow on that dial had made its single turn!

”And here you are, Susan, high and dry.” She had wept for another; she laughed at herself. ”Here you are, as Ikey says, 'All fixed up, und by your lonesomes.' But never mind any lamentations, Susan.” For her breast was heaving in spite of herself. ”Your hands are free--don't forget that? And you can do l-l-l-lots of helpful things--for your pocket is lined. And there must be something ahead for you, Susan!

There must be s-s-s-something!”

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