Part 29 (1/2)

For a long time, the two girls stood there, side by side, Eveley looking into the haze of the sea miles below, Miriam staring down through the pines to where she knew a car might be waiting in the shadows.

”We must not keep him waiting,” she said at last.

Without a word, they turned, hand in hand and started down to the road again. When she saw the little, well-known car beneath the trees, and Lem standing rigid beside it, she caught her breath suddenly. Eveley would have hung back, to let her greet her husband alone, but Miriam clung to her hand and pulled her forward.

He came to meet them, awkwardly, a gleam of hope in his eyes, but meekness in his manner. He held out his hand, and Miriam with a little flutter dropped her own into it, pulling it quickly away again.

”Are you--all right, Lem? You look--thin,” she said with shy solicitude.

”I feel thin,” he replied grimly. ”Are--you coming with us?”

”Yes, of course,” said Eveley.

”Yes, of course,” Miriam echoed faintly.

”Shall I drive?” suggested Eveley, antic.i.p.ating complete reconciliation for the two in their first moment of privacy.

”I will drive,” said Lem. ”You girls sit in the back. Did Eveley explain that I only expect to be--your driver, and your valet, and your servant--for a while.”

Tears brightened in Miriam's eyes. ”Oh, Lem,” she cried, holding out her hands. ”How can people talk of servants who have loved--as we have loved?”

Eveley immediately went into a deep and concentrated study of the rear tires, for Miriam was close in her husband's arms, and his tears were falling upon her fragrant curls.

After a while, he held her away from him and looked into her tender face.

”It isn't--you aren't coming, then, just because it is your duty to give me every chance,” he whispered.

”Oh, no, dear, just because I love you.”

Eveley was still utterly immersed in the condition of the tires.

”We'll try it again, Lem--”

”Oh, Miriam,” he broke in, ”it isn't any trial this time. This is marriage.”

Eventually they got started toward home and had driven many miles before Miriam noticed that her uncovered hair was blowing in the wind, and remembered that she had left the ranch without notice and that all her things were there. But what were simple things and formal notices when human hearts were finding happiness and faith?

In the Cloud Cote, Eve's friends were patiently awaiting her return.

Nolan was reading poetry aloud to himself in the roof garden, and Lieutenant Ames was laboriously picking chords on the piano, with Marie near him strumming on the mandolin.

The first creak of the rustic stair brought them all to the landing to greet her.

”Reconciliation,” shouted Nolan, before she was half-way up. ”Miriam is home, and they have already lived happily ever after.”

Eveley began immediately to give an account of the day's happenings standing motionless on the third step from the top until she finished her recital.

Then she went back down, and gave an impatient tap on the seventh stair.