Part 22 (2/2)

”Nothing at all,” said the General in brisk staccato, fastening my wraps with an air of proprietors.h.i.+p; ”n.o.body's in voice to-night, do you think?

Miss Wins.h.i.+p doesn't care to stay.”

Before we reached the lobby, John came from somewhere, hurrying towards us. I was walking between Mr. Bellmer and Robert Van Dam, but with scarcely a look at them he tucked my hand under his arm, just as he would have done in the old days at the State University. At the door Mr. Van Dam looked for a cab.

”I'll take her home,” said John grimly.

”I'll go with you; I must see her safe with Mrs. Baker,” the General replied, understanding at once. ”Mr. Bellmer, tell Mother, please, that Bob and I have gone with Miss Wins.h.i.+p. Or--Bob, you won't be needed; you explain to Mother.”

The two men hurried away upon their errand, though I fancied they went reluctantly. Peggy had not come down.

All the way home John's brows were black, and he looked straight ahead of him. As we pa.s.sed under the glow of electric lamps, Milly smiled bravely at me across the carriage, respect and awe mingling with her sympathy. The General sat at my side erect; her eyes glittered, and she looked oddly pleased--not like a woman who had been at the focus of a scene, and had been dragged away from the Opera before it was over, but like a General indeed, planning great campaigns.

As for me, I felt that I must laugh--cry. Did ever such a ridiculous thing, such a wonderful, glorious thing, such a perfectly awful thing, happen to any other girl that ever lived?

I was living the scene again--seeing the ma.s.s of heads, the sea of upturned faces. Again I was gazing into the one face that had been distinct, the eyes that had drawn mine in all that blur and confusion, that had looked back at me, as if in answer to my voiceless call for help, with strength and good cheer. Even in the moment of my utmost terror, I had been sustained by that message from Ned Hynes. How did I chance to see him just at that crisis, when I didn't know of his presence? And why didn't he come to us afterwards, as John did?

Mrs. Baker and Ethel saw us leave the box, and were at home with Uncle almost as soon as we.

”Are you safe, Nelly?” Aunt cried, rus.h.i.+ng at me; then, with the sharpness of tense nerves, she rebuked the Judge: ”Ba-ake, you hissed her!”

”Nay, my dear; in the interests of music, I frowned upon disorder.” He added, with waving of his antennae eyebrows: ”It was Helen's first opera.”

We all laughed hysterically, and then Mrs. Van Dam and John went away.

Could--_could_ Mr. Hynes have gone to the Opera just because he had heard that I would be there?

CHAPTER V.

A PLAGUE OF REPORTERS.

Sat.u.r.day evening, Jan. 18.

Since Monday I have left the house but once. The Judge has given me a microscope so that I may study at home instead of going to Barnard; and to please him I make a pretence of cutting sections from the plants in Aunt's conservatory; but oh, it's so dull, so dull! Or would be but for my happy thoughts. It isn't interest in apical cell or primary meristem that makes me fret to return to Prof. Darmstetter!

It's all on account of reporters that I am shut up like a state secret or a crown jewel. From daylight until dark, men with pencils and notebooks, cardboard-bearing artists and people with hand cameras have watched the house; and it's so tiresome.

The siege had already begun when Mrs. Baker came to my room the morning after the Opera, but I knew nothing about it. I couldn't understand why she scolded with such vehemence upon finding me writing in this little book instead of lying in bed; why she exclaimed so nervously over my escape and the horrors of jumping from windows, or sliding down ropes, or of being hurried along in fire panics until I was crushed to death.

”Why, you talk as if there had _been_ a fire,” I cried, kissing her.

Millions of fires have flamed and roared and sunk and died again; but never before has there been a Me!

The dear fussy little woman said that John had been telephoning inquiries.

I could see that she wished to keep me in my room, and finally, at some laboured excuse for withholding the morning papers, I understood that she and John were hiding something; she is so transparent!

”You must be calm, Nelly, dear; you mustn't excite yourself,” she chirped anxiously.

<script>