Part 19 (1/2)

As he sat he was a not unpleasing figure of middle-aged success. His gray hair was swept back smoothly from his temples; his red cheeks, fresh reaped, bore the tinge of health. The large white hand before him on the gla.s.s-topped table betokened prosperity and success in every faint and fat-hid line.

Judge Henderson now was absorbed in the contemplation of a bit of paper which lay in his hand. It was a message from the telephone company, and it came from Slattery, county prosecutor. Something in it was of disturbing nature. Judge Henderson's brow was furrowed, his face was troubled. He seemed, thus alone and not stimulated by an audience, years older than he had been but now.

He had been looking at this bit of paper for some time so intently that now he did not hear his hall door open--did not see one who paused there and then came, lightfooted, swiftly, across the s.p.a.ce, to catch him and blindfold him as he sat. He heard the rustle of her skirts, and knew at once the deep counterfeit of her voice.

”Who is it?” she demanded, her hand over his eyes.

”Anne!” he exclaimed, catching at her hand. ”You are here--when did you come?”

She went round and kissed him. ”Just now,” said she, ”on the train from the city. You were not expecting me?”

”No, not at all.”

”Well, here I am, Nunkie,”--she sometimes called her guardian by this pet name, although really they were not akin--”I'm finished and turned out complete--I'm done my college work now and ready for what we graduates call the Battle of Life. Do you think I'll do?”

She drew back and made him a pretty curtsey, spreading out her skirts.

Indeed, she was very fair to look upon and he smiled at her admiringly.

”You are beautiful, Anne,” said he. ”You are very beautiful--you are fine.”

”Do I please you in every way?” said she.

”Perfectly, my dear. You cannot do otherwise.”

She looked at him demurely. ”I'm not so sure,” said she. ”Wait until you have heard all I have to tell you.”

”What's wrong? Are you in debt?”

”Worse than that, Nunkie dear--I'm engaged!”

Now indeed he looked at her with sudden consternation in his face.

”What's that? You haven't told me anything of the sort.”

”I never knew it until just now--at the station.” She came now and sat down upon the arm of his chair. ”It just happened yesterday--and today.”

She put up a finger to her lips and rubbed them, fearing that he might see there the flame of the kiss they but now had borne.

”Who is the young man--if you are really in earnest about all this?

Where did you meet him? Whoever he is, you've hardly done your duty by me. I'm your guardian--I stand _in loco parentis_ for you. When did all this happen?”

”Yesterday, on the train. I didn't expect it myself. But I promised.

He's promised me. We were going to tell you about it at once.”

She was the very picture of happy and contented young womanhood as she spoke. Not so happy was the man whom she addressed.

”I can't guess at all whom you mean,” said he. ”Is he anybody--is he a man of station--has he any business--has he any means? How old is he--who is he?”

”I can't answer so many questions all at once, Nunkie,” said she. ”But I'm going to be very happy, I know that. Perhaps you can answer some of the questions for yourself--perhaps you know him. Well, it's Dieudonne Lane!--he's in town right now--a schoolmate of mine for four years.