Part 42 (2/2)

”Of course; that follows without saying. Evidently you do not comprehend the considerations which are weighing upon me. However, I will get it out of the ticket agent at New Macedonia,” said mademoiselle, rising.

”Come, the train is ready.”

They were going only as far as New Macedonia that night; mademoiselle had slept there twice, and intended to sleep there again. Once, in her decorous maiden life, she had pa.s.sed a night in a sleeping-car, and never again would her foot ”cross the threshold of one of those outrageous inventions.” She remembered even now with a shudder the processions of persons in m.u.f.fled drapery going to the wash-rooms in the early morning. New Macedonia existed only to give suppers and breakfasts; it had but two narrow sleeping apartments over its abnormal development of dining-room below. But the military genius of Jeanne-Armande selected it on this very account; for sleeping-rooms where no one ever slept, half-price could in conscience alone be charged. All night Anne was wakened at intervals by the rus.h.i.+ng sound of pa.s.sing trains. Once she stole softly to the uncurtained window and looked out; clouds covered the sky, no star was visible, but down the valley shone a spark which grew and grew, and then turned white and intense, as, with a glare and a thundering sound, a locomotive rushed by, with its long line of dimly lighted sleeping-cars swiftly and softly following with their unconscious human freight, the line ending in two red eyes looking back as the train vanished round a curve.

”Ten hours' sleep,” said mademoiselle, awaking with satisfaction in the morning. ”I now think we can sit up to-night in the Valley City waiting-room, and save the price of lodgings. Until twelve they would think we were waiting for the midnight train; after that, the night porter, who comes on duty then, would suppose it was the early morning express.”

”Then you have decided to go through to Valley City?” asked Anne.

”Yes, since by this arrangement we can do it without expense.”

Two trains stopped at New Macedonia for breakfast, one eastward bound from over the Alleghanies, the other westward bound from New York.

Jeanne-Armande's strategy was to enter the latter while its pa.s.sengers were at breakfast, and take bodily possession of a good seat, removing, if necessary, a masculine bag or two left there as tokens of owners.h.i.+p; for the American man never makes war where the gentler s.e.x is concerned, but retreats to another seat, or even to the smoking-car, with silent generosity.

Breakfast was now over; the train-boy was exchanging a few witticisms with the pea-nut vender of the station, a brakeman sparred playfully with the baggage porter, and a pallid telegraph operator looked on from his window with interest. Meanwhile the conductor, in his stiff official cap, pared a small apple with the same air of fixed melancholy and inward sarcasm which he gave to all his duties, large and small; when it was eaten, he threw the core with careful precision at a pa.s.sing pig, looked at his watch, and called out, suddenly and sternly, ”All aboard!”

The train moved on.

It was nine o'clock. At ten there came into the car a figure Anne knew--Ward Heathcote.

CHAPTER XIX.

”Man is a bundle of contradictions, tied together with fancies.”--PERSIAN PROVERB.

”The might of one fair face sublimes my love, For it hath weaned my heart from low desires.

Nor death I heed, nor purgatorial fires.

Forgive me if I can not turn away From those sweet eyes that are my earthly heaven, For they are guiding stars, benignly given To tempt my footsteps to the upward way.”

--MICHAEL ANGELO.

Dire was the wrath of Helen Lorrington when, having carefully filled the measure of her lost sleep, she sent a little note across to Anne, and answer was returned that Miss Douglas was gone.

Mrs. Lorrington, with compliments to Miss Vanhorn, then begged (on a card) to be informed _where_ Miss Douglas was gone. Miss Vanhorn, with compliments to Mrs. Lorrington (also on a card), returned answer that she did not know. Mrs. Lorrington, deeply grieved to disturb Miss Vanhorn a second time, then requested to be favored with Miss Douglas's address. Miss Vanhorn, with a.s.surances that it was no disturbance, but always a pleasure to oblige Mrs. Lorrington, replied that she did not possess it. Then Helen waited until the old coupe rolled away for an afternoon drive, its solitary occupant inside, her profile visible between the two closed gla.s.s windows like an object mounted for a microscope, and going across, beguiled the mild Bessmer to tell all she knew. This was not much; but the result was great anger in Helen's mind, and a determination to avenge the harsh deed. Bessmer did not know causes, but she knew actions. Anne had been sent away in disgrace, the maid being forbidden to know even the direction the lonely traveller had taken. Helen, quick to solve riddles, solved this, at least as far as one side of it was concerned, and the quick, partially correct guesses of a quick-witted woman are often, by their very nearness, more misleading than any others. Mr. Dexter had been with Anne during the evening of the ball; probably he had asked her to be his wife. Anne, faithful to her engagement, had refused him; and Miss Vanhorn, faithful to her cruel nature, had sent her away in disgrace. And when Helen learned that Mr. Dexter had gone also--gone early in the morning before any one was stirring--she took it as confirmation of her theory, and was now quite sure. She would tell all the house, she said to herself. She began by telling Heathcote.

They were strolling in the garden. She turned toward the little arbor at the end of the path.

”Not there,” said Heathcote.

”Why not? Have you been there so much with Rachel?” said his companion, in a sweet voice.

”Never, I think. But arbors are damp holes.”

”Nevertheless, I am going there, and you are going with me.”

”As you please.”

”Ward, how much have you been with Rachel?” she asked, when they were seated in the little bower, which was overgrown with the old-fas.h.i.+oned vine called matrimony.

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