Part 35 (2/2)
”EDITH ALLANDALE.”
When the conductor came back again, she gave this to him, with the necessary money, and asked if he would kindly forward it from Framingham for her.
He cheerfully promised to do so. Then, feeling greatly relieved, Edith settled herself contentedly for a nap, for she was very weary and heavy-eyed from the long strain upon her nerves and lack of sleep.
She did not wake for more than three hours, when she found that daylight had faded, and that the lamps had been lighted in the car.
At New Haven she obtained a light lunch from a boy who was crying his viands through the train, and when her hunger was satisfied she straightened her hat and drew on her gloves, knowing that another two hours would bring her to her destination.
Then she began to speculate upon possible and impossible things, and to grow very anxious regarding her safety upon her arrival in New York.
Perhaps Royal Bryant had not received her message.
He might have left his office before it arrived; maybe the officials at Framingham had even neglected to send it; or Mr. Bryant might have been out of town.
What could she do if, upon alighting from the train, some burly policeman should step up to her and claim her as his prisoner?
She had thus worked herself up to a very nervous and excited state by the time the lights of the great metropolis could be seen in the distance; her face grew flushed and feverish, her eyes were like two points of light, her temples throbbed, her pulses leaped, and her heart beat with great, frightened throbs.
The train had to make a short stop where one road crossed another just before entering the city, and the poor girl actually grew faint and dizzy with the fear that an officer might perhaps board the train at that point.
Almost as the thought flashed through her brain, the car door opened and a man entered, when a thrill of pain went quivering through every nerve, p.r.i.c.kling to her very finger-tips.
A second glance showed her that it was a familiar form, and she almost cried out with joy as she recognized Royal Bryant and realized that she was--safe!
He saw her immediately and went directly to her, his gleaming eyes telling a story from his heart which instantly sent the rich color to her brow.
”Miss Allandale!” he exclaimed, in a low, eager tone, as he clasped her outstretched hand. ”I am more than glad to see you once again.”
”Then you received my telegram,” she said, with a sigh of relief.
”Yes, else I should not be here,” he smilingly returned; ”but I came very near missing it. I was just on the point of leaving the office when the messenger-boy brought it in. I suppose our advertis.e.m.e.nt is to be thanked for your appearance in New York thus opportunely.”
”Not wholly,” Edith returned, with some embarra.s.sment. ”If it had been that alone which called me here, I need not have telegraphed you. I saw it only yesterday; but my chief reason for coming hither is that I am a fugitive.”
”A fugitive!” repeated her companion, in surprise. ”Ah, yes, I wondered a little over that word 'important' in your message. It strikes me,” he added, smiling significantly down upon her, ”that you left New York in very much the same manner.” ”Yes,” she faltered, flus.h.i.+ng rosily.
”From whom and what were you fleeing, Edith? Surely not from one who would have been only too glad to s.h.i.+eld you from every ill?” said the young man, in a tenderly reproachful tone, the import of which there was no mistaking.
She shot one swift glance into his face and saw that his eyes were luminous with the great love that was throbbing in his manly heart, and with an inward start of exceeding joy she dropped her lids again, but not before he had read in the look and the tell-tale flush that flooded cheek, brow, and neck, that his affection was returned.
”I will forgive you, dear, if you will be kind to me in the future,”
he whispered, taking courage from her sweet shyness and bashfulness.
”And now tell me why you are a fugitive from Boston, for your telegram was dated from that city.”
Thus recalled to herself, and a realization of her cruel situation, Edith s.h.i.+vered, and a deadly paleness banished the rosy blushes from her cheeks.
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