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Authors: Grace Livingston Hill
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nice, frank boy; but he must not! for there was his trust! For an instant he was on the point of trying to explain that he was not the true bridegroom, and getting young Jefferson to help him to set matters right, but an influx of newly arrived guests broke in upon their privacy, and he could only press the boy’s hand and say in embarrassed tones:
“Thank you! I shall try to be worthy of your good opinion hereafter!”
It was over at least, and the bride slipped from his side to prepare for the journey. He looked hastily around, feeling that his very first opportunity had come for making an escape. If an open window had presented itself, he would have vaulted through, trusting to luck and his heels to get away, but there was no window, and every door was blocked by staring, admiring, smirking people. He bethought himself of the fire escape where waited his hat and coat, and wondered if he could find it.
With smiling apologies, he broke away from those around him, murmuring something about being needed, and worked his way firmly but steadily toward the stairs and thence the back halls. Coming at last upon an open window, he slipped through, his heart beating wildly. He thought for a second that he was there ahead of the others; but a dark form loomed ahead and he perceived some one coming up from outside. Another second, and he saw it was his newly acquired brother-in-law.
“Say, this is great!” was his greeting. “How did you managed to find your way up alone? I was just coming down after you. I wanted to leave you there till the last minute so no one would suspect, but now you are here we can hustle off at once. I just took Mother and Celia down. It was pretty stiff for Mother to climb down, for she was a little bit afraid, but she was game all right, and she was so pleased to go. They’re waiting for us down there in the court. Now I’ll pull down this window, so no one will suspect us and follow. That’s all right now, come on! You go ahead. Just hold on to the railing and go slow. I’ll keep close to you. I know the way in my sleep. I’ve played fire here many a year, and could climb down in my sleep.”
Gordon found himself wishing that this delightful brother-in-law were really his. There was evidently to be no opportunity of escape here. He meditated making a dash and getting away in the dark when they should reach the foot of the stairs; much as he hated to leave that way, he felt he must do so if there was any chance for him at all; but when they reached the ground he saw that was hopeless. The car that was to take them to the station was drawn up close to the spot, and the chauffeur stood beside it.
“Your mother says fer you to hurry, Mister Jefferson,” he called in a sepulchral tone. “They’re coming out around the block to watch. Get in as quick as you can.”
The burly chauffeur stood below Gordon, helped him to alight on his feet from the fire-escape, and hustled him into the darkness of conveyance.
They were very quiet until they had left in the dark court and were speeding away down the avenue. Then the bride’s mother laid two gentle hands upon Gordon’s leaning across from her seat to do so, and said:
“My son, I shall never forget this of you, never! It was dear of you to give me this last few minutes with my darling!”
Gordon, deeply touched and much put to it for words, mumbled something about being very glad to have her, and Jefferson relieved the situation by pouring forth a volume of information and questions, fortunately not pausing long enough to have the latter answered. The bride sat with one hand clasped in her mother’s, and said not a word. Gordon was haunted by the thought of tears in her eyes.
There was little opportunity for thinking, but Gordon made a hasty plan. He decided to get his party all out to the train and then remember his suitcase, which he had left checked in the station. Jefferson would probably insist upon going for it but he would insist more
“Thank you! I shall try to be worthy of your good opinion hereafter!”
It was over at least, and the bride slipped from his side to prepare for the journey. He looked hastily around, feeling that his very first opportunity had come for making an escape. If an open window had presented itself, he would have vaulted through, trusting to luck and his heels to get away, but there was no window, and every door was blocked by staring, admiring, smirking people. He bethought himself of the fire escape where waited his hat and coat, and wondered if he could find it.
With smiling apologies, he broke away from those around him, murmuring something about being needed, and worked his way firmly but steadily toward the stairs and thence the back halls. Coming at last upon an open window, he slipped through, his heart beating wildly. He thought for a second that he was there ahead of the others; but a dark form loomed ahead and he perceived some one coming up from outside. Another second, and he saw it was his newly acquired brother-in-law.
“Say, this is great!” was his greeting. “How did you managed to find your way up alone? I was just coming down after you. I wanted to leave you there till the last minute so no one would suspect, but now you are here we can hustle off at once. I just took Mother and Celia down. It was pretty stiff for Mother to climb down, for she was a little bit afraid, but she was game all right, and she was so pleased to go. They’re waiting for us down there in the court. Now I’ll pull down this window, so no one will suspect us and follow. That’s all right now, come on! You go ahead. Just hold on to the railing and go slow. I’ll keep close to you. I know the way in my sleep. I’ve played fire here many a year, and could climb down in my sleep.”
Gordon found himself wishing that this delightful brother-in-law were really his. There was evidently to be no opportunity of escape here. He meditated making a dash and getting away in the dark when they should reach the foot of the stairs; much as he hated to leave that way, he felt he must do so if there was any chance for him at all; but when they reached the ground he saw that was hopeless. The car that was to take them to the station was drawn up close to the spot, and the chauffeur stood beside it.
“Your mother says fer you to hurry, Mister Jefferson,” he called in a sepulchral tone. “They’re coming out around the block to watch. Get in as quick as you can.”
The burly chauffeur stood below Gordon, helped him to alight on his feet from the fire-escape, and hustled him into the darkness of conveyance.
They were very quiet until they had left in the dark court and were speeding away down the avenue. Then the bride’s mother laid two gentle hands upon Gordon’s leaning across from her seat to do so, and said:
“My son, I shall never forget this of you, never! It was dear of you to give me this last few minutes with my darling!”
Gordon, deeply touched and much put to it for words, mumbled something about being very glad to have her, and Jefferson relieved the situation by pouring forth a volume of information and questions, fortunately not pausing long enough to have the latter answered. The bride sat with one hand clasped in her mother’s, and said not a word. Gordon was haunted by the thought of tears in her eyes.
There was little opportunity for thinking, but Gordon made a hasty plan. He decided to get his party all out to the train and then remember his suitcase, which he had left checked in the station. Jefferson would probably insist upon going for it but he would insist more
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