THE MYSTERYOF MARY

BYGRACE LIVINGSTON HILL LUTZ

AUTHOR OF

MARCIA SCHUYLER, PHOEBE DEANE, ETC. 

FRONTISPIECE BY

ANNA W. SPEAKMAN

[Illustration]

GROSSET & DUNLAP

PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

 * * * * *

Made in the United States of America

COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY

COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY

THE MYSTERY OF MARY

[Illustration: THEY STRUGGLED UP, SCARCELY PAUSING FOR BREATH _Page 8_]

The Mystery _of_ Mary

I

He paused on the platform and glanced at his watch. The train on which hehad just arrived was late. It hurried away from the station, and wasswallowed up in the blackness of the tunnel, as if it knew its ownshortcomings and wished to make up for them. 

It was five minutes of six, and as the young man looked back at the longflight of steps that led to the bridge across the tracks, a delicatepencilling of electric light flashed into outline against the city'sdeepening dusk, emphasizing the lateness of the hour. He had a dinnerengagement at seven, and it was yet some distance to his home, where arapid toilet must be made if he were to arrive on time. 

The stairway was long, and there were many people thronging it. A shortercut led down along the tracks under the bridge, and up the grassyembankment. It would bring him a whole block nearer home, and a line ofcabs was standing over at the corner just above the bridge. It was againstthe rules to walk beside the tracks--there was a large sign to that effectin front of him--but it would save five minutes. He scanned the platformhastily to see if any officials were in sight, then bolted down thedarkening tracks. 

Under the centre of the bridge a slight noise behind him, as of soft, hurrying footsteps, caught his attention, and a woman's voice broke uponhis startled senses. 

"Please don't stop, nor look around, " it said, and the owner caught upwith him now in the shadow. "But will you kindly let me walk beside youfor a moment, till you can show me how to get out of this dreadful place?I am very much frightened, and I'm afraid I shall be followed. Will youtell me where I can go to hide?"

After an instant's astonished pause, he obeyed her and kept on, makingroom for her to walk beside him, while he took the place next to thetracks. He was aware, too, of the low rumble of a train, coming from themouth of the tunnel. 

His companion had gasped for breath, but began again in a tone of apology:

"I saw you were a gentleman, and I didn't know what to do. I thought youwould help me to get somewhere quickly. "

Just then the fiery eye of the oncoming train burst from the tunnel ahead. Instinctively, the young man caught his companion's arm and drew herforward to the embankment beyond the bridge, holding her, startled andtrembling, as the screaming train tore past them. 

The pent black smoke from the tunnel rolled in a thick cloud about them, stifling them. The girl, dazed with the roar and blinded by the smoke, could only cling to her protector. For an instant they felt as if theywere about to be drawn into the awful power of the rushing monster. Thenit had passed, and a roar of silence followed, as if they were suddenlyplunged into a vacuum. Gradually the noises of the world began again: therumble of a trolley-car on the bridge; the "honk-honk" of an automobile;the cry of a newsboy. Slowly their breath and their senses came back. 

The man's first thought was to get out of the cut before another trainshould come. He grasped his companion's arm and started up the steepembankment, realizing as he did so that the wrist he held was slender, andthat the sleeve which covered it was of the finest cloth. 

They struggled up, scarcely pausing for breath. The steps at the side ofthe bridge, made for the convenience of railroad hands, were out of thequestion, for they were at a dizzy height, and hung unevenly over theyawning pit where trains shot constantly back and forth. 

As they emerged from the dark, the man saw that his companion was a youngand beautiful woman, and that she wore a light cloth gown, with neitherhat nor gloves. 

At the top of the embankment they paused, and the girl, with her hand ather throat, looked backward with a shudder. She seemed like a young birdthat could scarcely tell which way to fly. 

Without an instant's hesitation, the young man raised his hand and haileda four-wheeler across the street. 

"Come this way, quick!" he urged, helping her in. He gave the driver hishome address and stepped in after her. Then, turning, he faced hiscompanion, and was suddenly keenly aware of the strange situation in whichhe had placed himself. 

"Can you tell me what is the matter, " he asked, "and where you would liketo go?"

The girl had scarcely recovered breath from the long climb and the fright, and she answered him in broken phrases. 

"No, I cannot tell you what is the matter"--she paused and looked at him, with a sudden comprehension of what he might be thinking abouther--"but--there is nothing--that is--I have done nothing wrong--" Shepaused again and looked up with eyes whose clear depths, he felt, couldhide no guile. 

"Of course, " he murmured with decision, and then wondered why he felt sosure about it. 

"Thank you, " she said. Then, with frightened perplexity: "I don't knowwhere to go. I never was in this city before. If you will kindly tell mehow to get somewhere--suppose to a railroad station--and yet--no, I haveno money--and"--then with a sudden little movement of dismay--"and I haveno hat! Oh!"

The young man felt a strong desire to shield this girl so unexpectedlythrown on his mercy. Yet vague fears hovered about the margin of hisjudgment. Perhaps she was a thief or an adventuress. It might be that heought to let her get out of the odd situation she appeared to be in, asbest she might. Yet even as the thought flashed through his mind he seemedto hear an echo of her words, "I saw you were a gentleman, " and he feltincapable of betraying her trust in him. 

The girl was speaking again: "But I must not trouble you any more. Youhave been very kind to get me out of that dreadful place. If you willjust stop the carriage and let me out, I am sure I can take care ofmyself. "

"I could not think of letting you get out here alone. If you are indanger, I will help you. " The warmth of his own words startled him. Heknew he ought to be more cautious with a stranger, but impetuously hethrew caution to the winds. "If you would just tell me a little bit aboutit, so that I should know what I ought to do for you----"

"Oh, I must not tell you! I couldn't!" said the girl, her hand flutteringup to her heart, as if to hold its wild beating from stifling her. "I amsorry to have involved you for a moment in this. Please let me out here. Iam not frightened, now that I got away from that terrible tunnel. I wasafraid I might have to go in there alone, for I didn't see any way to getup the bank, and I couldn't go back. "

"I am glad I happened to be there, " breathed the young man fervently. "Itwould have been dangerous for you to enter that tunnel. It runs an entireblock. You would probably have been killed. "

The girl shut her eyes and pressed her fingers to them. In the light ofthe street lamps, he saw that she was very white, and also that there werejewels flashing from the rings on her fingers. It was apparent that shewas a lady of wealth and refinement. What could have brought her to thispass?

The carriage came to a sudden stop, and, looking out, he saw they hadreached his home. A new alarm seized him as the girl moved as if to getout. His dignified mother and his fastidious sister were probably not in, but if by any chance they should not have left the house, what would theythink if they saw a strange, hatless young woman descend from the carriagewith him? Moreover, what would the butler think?

"Excuse me, " he said, "but, really, there are reasons why I shouldn't likeyou to get out of the carriage just here. Suppose you sit still until Icome out. I have a dinner engagement and must make a few changes in mydress, but it will take me only a few minutes. You are in no danger, and Iwill take you to some place of safety. I will try to think what to dowhile I am gone. On no account get out of the carriage. It would make thedriver suspicious, you know. If you are really followed, he will let noone disturb you in the carriage, of course. Don't distress yourself. I'llhurry. Can you give me the address of any friend to whom I might 'phone ortelegraph?"

She shook her head and there was a glitter of tears in her eyes as shereplied:

"No, I know of no one in the city who could help me. "

"I will help you, then, " he said with sudden resolve, and in a tone thatwould be a comfort to any woman in distress. 

His tone and the look of respectful kindliness he gave her kept the girlin the carriage until his return, although in her fear and sudden distrustof all the world, she thought more than once of attempting to slip away. Yet without money, and in a costume which could but lay her open tosuspicion, what was she to do? Where was she to go?

As the young man let himself into his home with his latch-key, he heardthe butler's well trained voice answering the telephone. "Yes, ma'am;this is Mrs. Dunham's residence.... No, ma'am, she is not at home.... No, ma'am, Miss Dunham is out also.... Mr. Dunham? Just wait a moment, pleaseI think Mr. Dunham has just come in. Who shall I say wishes to speak tohim?... Mrs. Parker Bowman?... Yes, ma'am; just wait a minute, please. I'll call Mr. Dunham. "

The young man frowned. Another interruption! And Miss Bowman! It was ather house that he was to dine. What could the woman want? Surely it wasnot so late that she was looking him up. But perhaps something hadhappened, and she was calling off her dinner. What luck if she was! Thenhe would be free to attend the problem of the young woman whom fate, orProvidence, had suddenly thrust upon his care. 

He took the receiver, resolved to get out of going to the dinner if itwere possible. 

"Good evening, Mrs. Bowman. "

"Oh, is that you, Mr. Dunham? How relieved I am! I am in a bit ofdifficulty about my dinner, and called up to see if your sister couldn'thelp me out. Miss Mayo has failed me. Her sister has had an accident, andshe cannot leave her. She has just 'phoned me, and I don't know what todo. Isn't Cornelia at home? Couldn't you persuade her to come and help meout? She would have been invited in Miss Mayo's place if she had not toldme that she expected to go to Boston this week. But she changed her plans, didn't she? Isn't she where you could reach her by 'phone and beg her tocome and help me out? You see, it's a very particular dinner, and I'vemade all my arrangements. "

"Well, now, that's too bad, Mrs. Bowman, " began the young man, thinking hesaw a way out of both their difficulties. "I'm sorry Cornelia isn't here. I'm sure she would do anything in her power to help you. But she andmother were to dine in Chestnut Hill to-night, and they must have left thehouse half an hour ago. I'm afraid she's out of the question. Suppose youleave me out? You won't have any trouble then except to take two platesoff the table"--he laughed pleasantly--"and you would have even couples. You see, " he hastened to add, as he heard Mrs. Parker Bowman's preliminarydissent--"you see, Mrs. Bowman, I'm in somewhat of a predicament myself. My train was late, and as I left the station I happened to meet a youngwoman--a--a friend. " (He reflected rapidly on the old proverb, "A friendin need is a friend indeed. " In that sense she was a friend. ) "She istemporarily separated from her friends, and is a stranger in the city. Infact, I'm the only acquaintance or friend she has, and I feel rather underobligation to see her to her hotel and look up trains for her. She leavesthe city to-night. "

"Now, look here, Tryon Dunham, you're not going to leave me in the lurchfor any young woman. I don't care how old an acquaintance she is! Yousimply bring her along. She'll make up my number and relieve mewonderfully. No, don't you say a word. Just tell her that she needn'tstand on ceremony. Your mother and I are too old friends for that. Anyfriend of yours is a friend of mine, and my house is open to her. Shewon't mind. These girls who have travelled a great deal learn to step overthe little formalities of calls and introductions. Tell her I'll call onher afterwards, if she'll only remain in town long enough, or I'll comeand take dinner with her when I happen to be in her city. I suppose she'sjust returned from abroad--they all have--or else she's just going--and ifshe hasn't learned to accept things as she finds them, she probably willsoon. Tell her what a plight I'm in, and that it will be a real blessingto me if she'll come. Besides--I didn't mean to tell you--I meant it for asurprise, but I may as well tell you now--Judge Blackwell is to be here, with his wife, and I especially want you to meet him. I've been trying toget you two together for a long time. "

"Ah!" breathed the young man, with interest. "Judge Blackwell! I havewanted to meet him. "

"Well, he has heard about you, too, and I think he wants to meet you. Didyou know he was thinking of taking a partner into his office? He hasalways refused--but that's another story, and I haven't time to talk. Youought to be on your way here now. Tell your friend I will bless herforever for helping me out, and I won't take no for an answer. You saidshe'd just returned from abroad, didn't you? Of course she's musical. Youmust make her give us some music. She will, won't she? I was depending onMiss Mayo for that this evening. "

"Well, you might be able to persuade her, " murmured the distracted youngman at the 'phone, as he struggled with one hand to untie his necktie andunfasten his collar, and mentally calculated how long it would take him toget into his dress suit. 

"Yes, of course. You'd better not speak of it--it might make her decline. And don't let her stop to make any changes in her dress. Everybody willunderstand when I tell them she's just arrived--didn't you say?--from theother side, and we caught her on the wing. There's some one coming now. Do, for pity's sake, hurry, Tryon, for my cook is terribly cross when Ihold up a dinner too long. Good-by. Oh, by the way, what did you say washer name?"

"Oh--ah!" He had almost succeeded in releasing his collar, and was aboutto hang up the receiver, when this new difficulty confronted him. 

"Oh, yes, of course; her name--I had almost forgotten, " he went on wildly, to make time, and searched about in his mind for a name--any name--thatmight help him. The telephone book lay open at the r's. He pounced upon itand took the first name his eye caught. 

"Yes--why--Remington, Miss Remington. "

"Remington!" came in a delighted scream over the phone. "Not CarolynRemington? That would be too good luck!"

"No, " he murmured distractedly; "no, not Carolyn. Why, I--ah--Ithink--Mary--Mary Remington. "

"Oh, I'm afraid I haven't met her, but never mind. Do hurry up, Tryon. Itis five minutes of seven. Where did you say she lives?" But the receiverwas hung up with a click, and the young man tore up the steps to his roomthree at a bound. Dunham's mind was by no means at rest. He felt that hehad done a tremendously daring thing, though, when he came to think of it, he had not suggested it himself; and he did not quite see how he could getout of it, either, for how was he to have time to help the girl if he didnot take her with him?

Various plans floated through his head. He might bring her into the house, and make some sort of an explanation to the servants, but what would theexplanation be? He could not tell them the truth about her, and how wouldhe explain the matter to his mother and sister? For they might returnbefore he did, and would be sure to ask innumerable questions. 

And the girl--would she go with him? If not, what should he do with her?And about her dress? Was it such as his "friend" could wear to one of Mrs. Parker Bowman's exclusive dinners? To his memory, it seemed quiet andrefined. Perhaps that was all that was required for a woman who wastravelling. There it was again! But he had not said she was travelling, nor that she had just returned from abroad, nor that she was a musician. How could he answer such questions about an utter stranger, and yet howcould he not answer them, under the circumstances?

And she wore no hat, nor cloak. That would be a strange way to arrive at adinner How could she accept? He was settling his coat into place when aqueer little bulge attracted his attention to an inside pocket. Impatiently he pulled out a pair of long white gloves. They were hissister's, and he now remembered she had given them to him to carry thenight before, on the way home from a reception, she having removed thembecause it was raining. He looked at them with a sudden inspiration. Ofcourse! Why had he not thought of that? He hurried into his sister's roomto make a selection of a few necessities for the emergency--only to havehis assurance desert him at the very threshold. The room was immaculate, with no feminine finery lying about. Cornelia Dunham's maid was welltrained. The only article that seemed out of place was a hand-box on achair near the door. It bore the name of a fashionable milliner, andacross the lid was pencilled in Cornelia's large, angular hand, "To bereturned to Madame Dollard's. " He caught up the box and strode over to thecloset. There was no time to lose, and this box doubtless contained a hatof some kind. If it was to be returned, Cornelia would think it had beencalled for, and no further inquiry would be made about the matter. Hecould call at Madame's and settle the bill without his sister's knowledge. 

He poked back into the closet and discovered several wraps and eveningcloaks of more or less elaborate style, but the thought came to him thatperhaps one of these would be recognized as Cornelia's. He closed the doorhurriedly and went down to a large closet under the stairs, from which hepresently emerged with his mother's new black rain-coat. He patted hiscoat-pocket to be sure he had the gloves, seized his hat, and hurriedback to the carriage, the hat-box in one hand and his mother's rain-coatdragging behind him. His only anxiety was to get out before the butler sawhim. 

As he closed the door, there flashed over him, the sudden possibility thatthe girl had gone. Well, perhaps that would be the best thing that couldhappen and would save him a lot of trouble; yet to his amazement he foundthat the thought filled him with a sense of disappointment. He did notwant her to be gone. He peered anxiously into the carriage, and wasrelieved to find her still there, huddled into the shadow, her eyeslooking large and frightened. She was seized with a fit of trembling, andit required all her strength to keep him from noticing it. She was halfafraid of the man, now that she had waited for him. Perhaps he was not agentleman, after all. 

[Illustration]

II

"I am afraid I have been a long time, " he said apologetically, as heclosed the door of the carriage, after giving Mrs. Parker Bowman's addressto the driver. In the uncertain light of the distant arc-lamp, the girllooked small and appealing. He felt a strong desire to lift her burdensand carry them on his own broad shoulders. 

"I've brought some things that I thought might help, " he said. "Would youlike to put on this coat? It may not be just what you would have selected, but it was the best I could find that would not be recognized. The air isgrowing chilly. "

He shook out the coat and threw it around her. 

"Oh, thank you, " she murmured gratefully, slipping her arms into thesleeves. 

"And this box has some kind of a hat, I hope, " he went on. "I ought tohave looked, but there really wasn't time. " He unknotted the strings andproduced a large picture hat with long black plumes. He was relieved tofind it black. While he untied the strings, there had been a growinguneasiness lest the hat be one of those wild, queer combinations of colorsthat Cornelia frequently purchased and called "artistic. "

The girl received the hat with a grateful relief that was entirelysatisfactory to the young man. 

"And now, " said he, as he pulled out the gloves and laid them gravely inher lap, "we're invited out to dinner. "

"Invited out to dinner!" gasped the girl. 

"Yes. It's rather a providential thing to have happened, I think. Thetelephone was ringing as I opened the door, and Mrs. Parker Bowman, towhose house I was invited, was asking for my sister to fill the place ofan absent guest. My sister is away, and I tried to beg off. I told her Ihad accidentally met--I hope you will pardon me--I called you a friend. "

"Oh!" she said. "That was kind of you. "

"I said you were a stranger in town, and as I was your only acquaintance, I felt that I should show you the courtesy of taking you to a hotel, andassisting to get you off on the night train; and I asked her to excuse me, as that would give her an even number. But it seems she had invited someone especially to meet me, and was greatly distressed not to have her fullquota of guests, so she sent you a most cordial invitation to come to herat once, promising to take dinner with you some time if you would help herout now. Somehow, she gathered from my talk that you were travelling, hadjust returned from abroad, and were temporarily separated from yourfriends. She is also sure that you are musical, and means to ask you tohelp her out in that way this evening. I told her I was not sure whetheryou could be persuaded or not, and she mercifully refrained from askingwhether you sang or played. I tell you all this so that you will beprepared for anything. Of course I didn't tell her all these things. Imerely kept still when she inferred them. Your name, by the way, is MissRemington--Mary Remington. She was greatly elated for a moment when shethought you might be Carolyn Remington--whoever she may be. I suppose shewill speak of it. The name was the first one that my eye lit upon in thetelephone-book. If you object to bearing it for the evening, it is easy tosee how a name could be misunderstood over the 'phone. But perhaps youwould better give me a few pointers, for I've never tried acting a part, and can't be sure how well I shall do it. "

The girl had been silent from astonishment while the man talked. 

"But I cannot possibly go there to dinner, " she gasped, her hand going toher throat again, as if to pluck away the delicate lace about it and givemore room, for breathing. "I must get away somewhere at once. I cannottrouble you in this way. I have already imposed upon your kindness. Withthis hat and coat and gloves, I shall be able to manage quite well, and Ithank you so much! I will return them to you as soon as possible. "

The cab began to go slowly, and Tryon Dunham noticed that anothercarriage, just ahead of theirs, was stopping before Mrs. Bowman's house. There was no time for halting decision. 

"My friend, " he said earnestly, "I cannot leave you alone, and I do notsee a better way than for you to go in here with me for a little while, till I am free to go with you. No one can follow you here, or suspect thatyou had gone out to dinner at a stranger's house. Believe me, it is thevery safest thing you could do. This is the house. Will you go in with me?If not, I must tell the driver to take us somewhere else. "

"But what will she think of me, " she said in trepidation, "and how can Ido such a thing as to steal into a woman's house to a dinner in this way!Besides, I am not dressed for a formal occasion. "

The carriage had stopped before the door now, and the driver was gettingdown from his seat. 

"Indeed, she will think nothing about it, " Dunham assured her, "except tobe glad that she has the right number of guests. Her dinners aredelightful affairs usually, and you have nothing to do but talk aboutimpersonal matters for a little while and be entertaining. She was mostinsistent that you take no thought about the matter of dress. She said itwould be perfectly understood that you were travelling, and that theinvitation was unexpected. You can say that your trunk has not come, orhas gone on ahead. Will you come?"

Then the driver opened the carriage door. 

In an instant the girl assumed the self-contained manner she had worn whenshe had first spoken to him. She stepped quietly from the carriage, andonly answered in a low voice, "I suppose I'd better, if you wish it. "

Dunham paused for a moment to give the driver a direction about carryingthe great pasteboard box to his club. This idea had come as a suddeninspiration. He had not thought of, the necessity of getting rid of thatbox before. 

"If it becomes necessary, where shall I say you are going this evening?"he asked in a low tone, as they turned to go up the steps. She summoned afaint, flickering smile. 

"When people have been travelling abroad and are stopping over in thiscity, they often go on to Washington, do they not?" she asked half shyly. 

He smiled in response, and noted with pleasure that the black hat wasintensely becoming. She was not ill-dressed for the part she had to play, for the black silk rain-coat gave the touch of the traveller to hercostume. 

The door swung open before they could say another word, and the young manremembered that he must introduce his new friend. As there was no furtheropportunity to ask her about her name, he must trust to luck. 

The girl obeyed the motion of the servant and slipped up to thedressing-room as if she were a frequent guest in the house, but it was insome trepidation that Tryon Dunham removed his overcoat and arranged hisnecktie. He had caught a passing glimpse of the assembled company, andknew that Mr. Bowman was growing impatient for his dinner. His heartalmost failed him now that the girl was out of sight. What if she shouldnot prove to be accustomed to society, after all, and should show it? Howembarrassing that would be! He had seen her only in a half-light as yet. How had he dared?

But it was too late now, for she was coming from the dressing-room, andMrs. Bowman was approaching them with outstretched hands, and a welcome inher face. 

"My dear Miss Remington, it is so good of you to help me out! I can see bythe first glance that it is going to be a privilege to know you. I can'tthank you enough for waiving formalities. "

"It was very lovely of you to ask me, " said the girl, with perfectcomposure, "a stranger----"

"Don't speak of it, my dear. Mr. Dunham's friends are not strangers, Iassure you. Tryon, didn't you tell her how long we have known each other?I shall feel quite hurt if you have never mentioned me to her. Now, come, for my cook is in the last stages of despair over the dinner. MissRemington, how do you manage to look so fresh and lovely after a long seavoyage? You must tell me your secret. "

The young man looked down at the girl and saw that her dress was inperfect taste for the occasion, and also that she was very young andbeautiful. He was watching her with a kind of proprietary pride as shemoved forward to be introduced to the other guests, when he saw her sweepone quick glance about the room, and for just an instant hesitate and drawback. Her face grew white; then, with a supreme effort, she controlled herfeelings, and went through her part with perfect ease. 

When Judge Blackwell was introduced to the girl, he looked at her withwhat seemed to Dunham to be more than a passing interest; but the keeneyes were almost immediately transferred to his own face, and the youngman had no further time to watch his protégé, as dinner was immediatelyannounced. 

Miss Remington was seated next to Dunham at the table, with the Judge onher other side. The young man was pleased with the arrangement, and satfurtively studying the delicate tinting of her face, the dainty line ofcheek and chin and ear, the sweep of her dark lashes, and the ripple ofher brown hair, as he tried to converse easily with her, as an old friendmight. 

At length the Judge turned to the girl and said:

"Miss Remington, you remind me strongly of a young woman who was in myoffice this afternoon. "

The delicate color flickered out of the girl's face entirely, leaving evenher lips white, but she lifted her dark eyes bravely to the kindly blueones, and with sweet dignity baffled the questioned recognition in hislook. 

"Yes, you are so much like her that I would think you were--her sisterperhaps, if it were not for the name, " Judge Blackwell went on. "She was amost interesting and beautiful young lady. " The old gentleman bestowedupon the girl a look that was like a benediction. "Excuse me for speakingof it, but her dress was something soft and beautiful, like yours, andseemed to suit her face. I was deeply interested in her, although untilthis afternoon she was a stranger. She came to me for a small matter ofbusiness, and after it was attended to, and before she received thepapers, she disappeared! She had removed her hat and gloves, as she wasobliged to wait some time for certain matters to be looked up, and theseshe left behind her. The hat is covered with long, handsome plumes of thecolor of rich cream in coffee. "

Young Dunham glanced down at the cloth of the girl's gown, and wasstartled to find the same rich creamy-coffee tint in its silky folds; yetshe did not show by so much as a flicker of an eyelash that she waspassing under the keenest inspection. She toyed with the salted almondsbeside her plate and held the heavy silver fork as firmly as if she weretalking about the discovery of the north pole. Her voice was steady andnatural as she asked, "How could she disappear?"

"Well, that is more than I can understand. There were three doors in theroom where she sat, one opening into the inner office where I was at work, and two opening into a hall, one on the side and the other on the endopposite the freight elevator. We searched the entire building withoutfinding a clew, and I am deeply troubled. "

"Why should she want to disappear?" The question was asked coolly and withas much interest as a stranger would be likely to show. 

"I cannot imagine, " said the old man speculatively. "She apparently hadhealth and happiness, if one may judge from her appearance, and she cameto me of her own free will on a matter of business. Immediately after herdisappearance, two well-dressed men entered my office and inquired forher. One had an intellectual head, but looked hard and cruel; the otherwas very handsome--and disagreeable. When he could not find the younglady, he laid claim to her hat, but I had it locked away. How could I knowthat man was her friend or her relative? I intend to keep that hat untilthe young woman herself claims it. I have not had anything happen thathas so upset me in years. "

"You don't think any harm has come to her?" questioned the girl. 

"I cannot think what harm could, and yet--it is very strange. She wasabout the age of my dear daughter when she died, and I cannot get her outof my mind. When you first appeared in the doorway you gave me quite astart. I thought you were she. If I can find any trace of her, I mean toinvestigate this matter. I have a feeling that that girl needs a friend. "

"I am sure she would be very happy to have a friend like you, " said thegirl, and there was something in the eyes that were raised to his thatmade the Judge's heart glow with admiration. 

"Thank you, " said he warmly. "That is most kind of you. But perhaps shehas found a better friend by this time. I hope so. "

"Or one as kind, " she suggested in a low voice. 

The conversation then became general, and the girl did not look up forseveral seconds; but the young man on her right, who had not missed a wordof the previous tête-à-tête, could not give attention to the story Mrs. Blackwell was telling, for pondering what he had heard. 

The ladies now left the table, and though this was the time that Dunhamhad counted upon for an acquaintance with the great judge who might hold afuture career in his power, he could not but wish that he might followthem to the other room. He felt entire confidence in his new friend'sability to play her part to the end, but he wanted to watch her, to studyher and understand her, if perchance he might solve the mystery that wasever growing more intense about her. 

As she left the room, his eyes followed her. His hostess, in passingbehind his chair, had whispered:

"I don't wonder you feel so about her. She is lovely. But please don'tbegrudge her to us for a few minutes. I promise you that you shall haveyour innings afterwards. "

Then, without any warning and utterly against his will, this young man ofmuch experience and self-control blushed furiously, and was glad enoughwhen the door closed behind Mrs. Bowman. 

Miss Remington walked into the drawing-room with a steady step, but with arapidly beating heart. Her real ordeal had now come. She cast about in hermind for subjects of conversation which should forestall unsafe topics, and intuitively sought the protection of the Judge's wife. But immediatelyshe saw her hostess making straight for the little Chippendale chairbeside her. 

"My dear, it is too lovely, " she began. "So opportune! Do tell me how longyou have known Tryon?"

The girl caught her breath and gathered her wits together. She looked upshyly into the pleasantly curious eyes of Mrs. Bowman, and a faint gleamof mischief came into her face. 

"Why----" Her hesitation seemed only natural, and Mrs. Bowman decided thatthere must be something very special between these two. "Why, not so verylong, Mrs. Bowman--not as long as you have known him. " She finished with asmile which Mrs. Bowman decided was charming. 

"Oh, you sly child!" she exclaimed, playfully tapping the round cheek withher fan. "Did you meet him when he was abroad this summer?"

"Oh, no, indeed!" said the girl, laughing now in spite of herself. "Oh, no; it was after his return. "

"Then it must have been in the Adirondacks, " went on the determinedinterlocutor. "Were you at----" But the girl interrupted her. She couldnot afford to discuss the Adirondacks, and the sight of the grand pianoacross the room had given her an idea. 

"Mr. Dunham told me that you would like me to play something for you, asyour musician friend has failed you. I shall be very glad to, if it willhelp you any. What do you care for? Something serious or something gay?Are you fond of Chopin, or Beethoven, or something more modern?"

Scenting a possible musical prodigy, and desiring most earnestly to giveher guests a treat, Mrs. Bowman exclaimed in enthusiasm:

"Oh, how lovely of you! I hardly dared to ask, as Tryon was uncertainwhether you would be willing. Suppose you give us something serious now, and later, when the men come in, we'll have the gay music. Make your ownchoice, though I'm very fond of Chopin, of course. "

Without another word, the girl moved quietly over to the piano and tookher seat. For just a moment her fingers wandered caressingly over thekeys, as if they were old friends and she were having an understandingwith them, then she began a Chopin Nocturne. Her touch was firm andvelvety, and she brought out a bell-like tone from the instrument thatmade the little company of women realize that the player was mistress ofher art. Her graceful figure and lovely head, with its simple ripples andwaves of hair, were more noticeable than ever as she sat there, controlling the exquisite harmonies. Even Mrs. Blackwell stopped fanningand looked interested. Then she whispered to Mrs. Bowman: "A very sweetyoung girl. That's a pretty piece she's playing. " Mrs. Blackwell was sweetand commonplace and old-fashioned. 

Mrs. Parker Bowman sat up with a pink glow in her cheeks and a light inher eyes. She began to plan how she might keep this acquisition andexploit her among her friends. It was her delight to bring out newfeatures in her entertainments. 

"We shall simply keep you playing until you drop from weariness, " sheannounced ecstatically, when the last wailing, sobbing, soothing chord haddied away; and the other ladies murmured, "How delightful!" and whisperedtheir approval. 

The girl smiled and rippled into a Chopin Valse, under cover of whichthose who cared to could talk in low tones. Afterwards the musician dashedinto the brilliant movement of a Beethoven Sonata. 

It was just as she was beginning Rubinstein's exquisite tone portrait, Kamennoi-Ostrow, that the gentlemen came in. 

Tryon Dunham had had his much desired talk with the famous judge, but ithad not been about law. 

They had been drawn together by mutual consent, each discovering that theother was watching the young stranger as she left the dining-room. 

"She is charming, " said the old man, smiling into the face of the younger. "Is she an intimate friend?"

"I--I hope so, " stammered Dunham. "That is, I should like to have herconsider me so. "

"Ah!" said the old man, looking deep into the other's eyes with a kindlysmile, as if he were recalling pleasant experiences of his own. "You are afortunate fellow. I hope you may succeed in making her think so. Do youknow, she interests me more than most young women, and in some way Icannot disconnect her with an occurrence which happened in my office thisafternoon. "

The young man showed a deep interest in the matter, and the Judge told thestory again, this time more in detail. 

They drew a little apart from the rest of the men. The host, who had beenwarned by his wife to give young Dunham an opportunity to talk with theJudge, saw that her plans were succeeding admirably. 

When the music began in the other room the Judge paused a moment tolisten, and then went on with his story. 

"There is a freight elevator just opposite that left door of my office, and somehow I cannot but think it had something to do with the girl'sdisappearance, although the door was closed and the elevator was down onthe cellar floor all the time, as nearly as I can find out. "

The young man asked eager questions, feeling in his heart that the storymight in some way explain the mystery of the young woman in the otherroom. 

"Suppose you stop in the office to-morrow, " said the Judge. "Perhapsyou'll get a glimpse of her, and then bear me out in the statement thatshe's like your friend. By the way, who is making such exquisite music?Suppose we go and investigate. Mr. Bowman, will you excuse us if we followthe ladies? We are anxious to hear the music at closer range. "

The other men rose and followed. 

The girl did not pause or look up as they came in, but played on, whilethe company listened with the most rapt and wondering look. She wasplaying with an _empressement_ which could not fail to command attention. 

Tryon Dunham, standing just behind the Judge, was transfixed withamazement. That this delicate girl could bring forth such an entrancingvolume of sound from the instrument was a great surprise. That she was soexquisite an artist filled him with a kind of intoxicating elation--it wasas though she belonged to him. 

At last she played Liszt's brilliant Hungarian Rhapsody, her slender handstaking the tremendous chords and octave runs with a precision and rapiditythat seemed inspired. The final crash came in a shower of liquid jewels ofsound, and then she turned to look at him, her one friend in that companyof strangers. 

He could see that she had been playing under a heavy strain. Her facelooked weary and flushed, and her eyes were brilliant with feverishexcitement. Those eyes seemed to be pleading with him now to set her freefrom the kindly scrutiny of these good-hearted, curious strangers. Theygathered about her in delight, pouring their questions and praises uponher. 

"Where did you study? With some great master, I am sure. Tell us all aboutyourself. We are dying to know, and will sit at your feet with greatdelight while you discourse. "

Tryon Dunham interrupted these disquieting questions, by drawing his watchfrom his pocket with apparent hasty remembrance, and giving a well feignedexclamation of dismay. 

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Bowman; it is too bad to interrupt this delightfulevening, " he apologized; "but I'm afraid if Miss Remington feels that shemust take the next train, we shall have to make all possible speed. MissRemington, can you get your wraps on in three minutes? Our carriage isprobably at the door now. "

With a look of relief, yet keeping up her part of dismay over the latenessof the hour, the girl sprang to her feet, and hurried away to get herwraps, in spite of her protesting hostess. Mrs. Bowman was held at baywith sweet expressions of gratitude for the pleasant entertainment. Thegreat black picture hat was settled becomingly on the small head, theblack cloak thrown over her gown, and the gloves fitted on hurriedly tohide the fact that they were too large. 

"And whom did you say you studied with?" asked the keen hostess, determined to be able to tell how great a guest she had harbored for theevening. 

"Oh, is Mr. Dunham calling me, Mrs. Bowman? You will excuse me forhurrying off, won't you? And it has been so lovely of you to askme--perfectly delightful to find friends this way when I was a stranger. "

She hurried toward the stairway and down the broad steps, and the hostesshad no choice but to follow her. 

The other guests crowded out into the hall to bid them good-by and to tellthe girl how much they had enjoyed the music. Mrs. Blackwell insisted uponkissing the smooth cheek of the young musician, and whispered in her ear:"You play very nicely, my dear. I should like to hear you again sometime. " The kindness in her tone almost brought a rush of tears to the eyesof the weary, anxious girl. 

[Illustration]

III

Dunham hurried her off amid the goodbyes of the company, and in a momentmore they were shut into the semi-darkness of the four-wheeler and whirledfrom the too hospitable door. 

As soon as the door was shut, the girl began to tremble. 

"Oh, we ought not to have done that!" she exclaimed with a shiver ofrecollection. "They were so very kind. It was dreadful to impose uponthem. But--you were not to blame. It was my fault. It was very kind ofyou. "

"We did not impose upon them!" he exclaimed peremptorily. "You are myfriend, and that was all that we claimed. For the rest, you have certainlymade good. Your wonderful music! How I wish I might hear more of it sometime!"

The carriage paused to let a trolley pass, and a strong arc-light beat inupon the two. A passing stranger peered curiously at them, and the girlshrank back in fear. It was momentary, but the minds of the two werebrought back to the immediate necessities of the occasion. 

"Now, what may I do for you?" asked Dunham in a quiet, business-like tone, as if it were his privilege and right to do all that was to be done. "Haveyou thought where you would like to go?"

"I have not been able to do much thinking. It required all my wits to actwith the present. But I know that I must not be any further trouble toyou. You have done more already than any one could expect. If you can havethe carriage stop in some quiet, out-of-the-way street where I shall notbe noticed, I will get out and relieve you. If I hadn't been so frightenedat first, I should have had more sense than to burden you this way. I hopesome day I shall be able to repay your kindness, though I fear it is toogreat ever to repay. "

"Please don't talk in that way, " said he protestingly. "It has been apleasure to do the little that I have done, and you have more than repaidit by the delight you have given me and my friends. I could not think ofleaving you until you are out of your trouble, and if you will only giveme a little hint of how to help, I will do my utmost for you. Are youquite sure you were followed? Don't you think you could trust me enough totell me a little more about the matter?"

She shuddered visibly. 

"Forgive me, " he murmured. "I see it distresses you. Of course it isunpleasant to confide in an utter stranger. I will not ask you to tell me. I will try to think for you. Suppose we go to the station and get you aticket to somewhere. Have you any preference? You can trust me not to tellany one where you have gone, can you not?" There was a kind rebuke in histone, and her eyes, as she lifted them to his face, were full of tears. 

"Oh, I do trust you!" she cried, distressed "You must not think that, but--you do not understand. "

"Forgive me, " he said again, holding out his hand in appeal. She laid herlittle gloved hand in his for an instant. 

"You are so kind!" she murmured, as if it were the only thing she couldthink of. Then she added suddenly:

"But I cannot buy a ticket. I have no money with me, and I----"

"Don't think of that for an instant. I will gladly supply your need. Alittle loan should not distress you. "

"But I do not know when I shall be able to repay it, " she faltered, "unless"--she hastily drew off her glove and slipped a glittering ringfrom her finger--"unless you will let this pay for it. I do not like totrouble you so, but the stone is worth a good deal. "

"Indeed, " he protested, "I couldn't think of taking your ring. Let me dothis. It is such a small thing. I shall never miss it. Let it rest untilyou are out of your trouble, at least. "

"Please!" she insisted, holding out the ring. "I shall get right out ofthis carriage unless you do. "

"But perhaps some one gave you the ring, and you are attached to it. "

"My father, " she answered briefly, "and he would want me to use it thisway. " She pressed the ring into his hand almost impatiently. 

His fingers closed over the jewel impulsively. Somehow, it thrilled him tohold the little thing, yet warm from her fingers. He had forgotten thatshe was a stranger. His mind was filled with the thought of how best tohelp her. 

"I will keep it until you want it again, " he said kindly. 

"You need not do that, for I shall not claim it, " she declared. "You areat liberty to sell it. I know it is worth a good deal. "

"I shall certainly keep it until I am sure you do not want it yourself, "he repeated. "Now let us talk about this journey of yours. We are almostat the station. Have you any preference as to where you go? Have youfriends to whom you could go?"

She shook her head. 

"There are trains to New York every hour almost. "

"Oh, no!" she gasped in a frightened tone. 

"And to Washington often. "

"I should rather not go to Washington, " she breathed again. 

"Pittsburg, Chicago?" he hazarded. 

"Chicago will do, " she asserted with relief. Then the carriage stoppedbefore the great station, ablaze with light and throbbing with life. Policemen strolled about, and trolley-cars twinkled in every direction. The girl shrank back into the shadows of the carriage for an instant, asif she feared to come out from the sheltering darkness. Her escort halfdefined her hesitation. 

"Don't feel nervous, " he said in a low tone. "I will see that no one harmsyou. Just walk into the station as if you were my friend. You are, youknow, a friend of long standing, for we have been to a dinner together. Imight be escorting you home from a concert. No one will notice us. Besides, that hat and coat are disguise enough. "

He hurried her through the station and up to the ladies' waiting-room, where he found a quiet corner and a large rocking-chair, in which heplaced her so that she might look out of the great window upon thepanorama of the evening street, and yet be thoroughly screened from allintruding glances by the big leather and brass screen of the "ladies'boot-black. "

He was gone fifteen minutes, during which the girl sat quietly in herchair, yet alert, every nerve strained. At any moment the mass of facesshe was watching might reveal one whom she dreaded to see, or a detectivemight place his hand upon her shoulder with a quiet "Come with me. "

When Dunham came back, the nervous start she gave showed him how tense andanxious had been her mind. He studied her lovely face under the great hat, and noted the dark shadows beneath her eyes. He felt that he must dosomething to relieve her. It was unbearable to him that this young girlshould be adrift, friendless, and apparently a victim to some terriblefear. 

Drawing up a chair beside her, he began talking about her ticket. 

"You must remember I was utterly at your mercy, " she smiled sadly. "Isimply had to let you help me. "

"I should be glad to pay double for the pleasure you have given me inallowing me to help you, " he said. 

Just at that moment a boy in a blue uniform planted a sole-leathersuit-case at his feet, and exclaimed: "Here you are, Mr. Dunham. Had afierce time findin' you. Thought you said you would be by the elevatordoor. "

"So I did, " confessed the young man. "I didn't think you had time to getdown yet. Well, you found me anyhow, Harkness. "

The boy took the silver given him, touched his hat, and sauntered off. 

"You see, " explained Dunham, "it wasn't exactly the thing for you to betravelling without a bit of baggage. I thought it might help them to traceyou if you really were being followed. So I took the liberty of 'phoningover to the club-house and telling the boy to bring down the suit-casethat I left there yesterday. I don't exactly know what's in it. I had theman pack it and send it down to me, thinking I might stay all night atthe club. Then I went home, after all, and forgot to take it along. Itprobably hasn't anything very appropriate for a lady's costume, but theremay be a hair-brush and some soap and handkerchiefs. And, anyhow, ifyou'll accept it, it'll be something for you to hitch on to. One feels alittle lost even for one night without a rag one can call one's own excepta Pullman towel. I thought it might give you the appearance of a regulartraveller, you know, and not a runaway. "

He tried to make her laugh about it, but her face was deeply serious asshe looked up at him. 

"I think this is the kindest and most thoughtful thing you have done yet, "she said. "I don't see how I can ever, ever thank you!"

"Don't try, " he returned gaily. "There's your train being called. We'dbetter go right out and make you comfortable. You are beginning to be verytired. "

She did not deny it, but rose to follow him, scanning the waiting-roomwith one quick, frightened look. An obsequious porter at the gate seizedthe suit-case and led them in state to the Pullman. 

The girl found herself established in the little drawing-room compartment, and her eyes gave him thanks again. She knew the seclusion and theopportunity to lock the compartment door would give her relief from theconstant fear that an unwelcome face might at any moment appear besideher. 

"The conductor on this train is an old acquaintance of mine, " he explainedas that official came through the car. "I have taken this trip with him anumber of times. Just sit down a minute. I am going to ask him to look outfor you and see that no one annoys you. "

The burly official looked grimly over his glasses at the sweet face underthe big black hat, while Tryon Dunham explained, "She's a friend of mine. I hope you'll be good to her. " In answer, he nodded grim assent with asmileless alacrity which was nevertheless satisfactory and comforting. Then the young man walked through the train to interview the porter andthe newsboy, and in every way to arrange for a pleasant journey for onewho three hours before had been unknown to him. As he went, he reflectedthat he would rather enjoy being conductor himself just for that night. Hefelt a strange reluctance toward giving up the oversight of the youngwoman whose destiny for a few brief hours had been thrust upon him, andwho was about to pass out of his world again. 

When he returned to her he found the shades closely drawn and the girlsitting in the sheltered corner of the section, where she could not beseen from the aisle, but where she could watch in the mirror the approachof any one. She welcomed him with a smile, but instantly urged him toleave the train, lest he be carried away. 

He laughed at her fears, and told her there was plenty of time. Even afterthe train had given its preliminary shudder, he lingered to tell her thatshe must be sure to let him know by telegraph if she needed any furtherhelp; and at last swung himself from the platform after the train was infull motion. 

Immediately he remembered that he had not given her any money. How couldhe have forgotten? And there was the North Side Station yet to be passedbefore she would be out of danger. Why had he not remained on the trainuntil she was past that stop, and then returned on the next train from thelittle flag-station a few miles above, where he could have gotten theconductor to slow up for him? The swiftly moving cars asked the questionas the long train flew by him. The last car was almost past when he made adaring dash and flung himself headlong upon the platform, to the horror ofseveral trainmen who stood on the adjoining tracks. 

"Gee!" said one, shaking his head. "What does that dude think he is madeof, any way? Like to got his head busted that time, fer sure. "

The brakeman, coming out of the car door with his lantern, dragged him tohis feet, brushed him off, and scolded him vigorously. The young manhurried through the car, oblivious of the eloquent harangue, happy only tofeel the floor jolting beneath his feet and to know that he was safe onboard. 

He found the girl sitting where he had left her, only she had flung up theshade of the window next her, and was gazing with wide, frightened eyesinto the fast flying darkness. He touched her gently on the shoulder, andshe turned with a cry. 

"Oh, I thought you had fallen under the train!" she said in an awed voice. "It was going so fast! But you did not get off, after all, did you? Now, what can you do? It is too bad, and all on my account. "

"Yes, I got off, " he said doggedly, sitting down opposite her and pullinghis tie straight. "I got off, but it wasn't altogether satisfactory, andso I got on again. There wasn't much time for getting on gracefully, butyou'll have to excuse it. The fact is, I couldn't bear to leave you alonejust yet. I couldn't rest until I knew you had passed the North SideStation. Besides, I had forgotten to give you any money. "

"Oh, but you mustn't!" she protested, her eyes eloquent with feeling. 

"Please don't say that, " he went on eagerly. "I can get off later and takethe down train, you know. Really, the fact is, I couldn't let you goright out of existence this way without knowing more about you. "

"Oh!" she gasped, turning a little white about the lips, and drawingcloser into her corner. 

"Don't feel that way, " he said. "I'm not going to bother you. You couldn'tthink that of me, surely. But isn't it only fair that you should show me alittle consideration? Just give me an address, or something, where I couldlet you know if I heard of anything that concerned you. Of course it isn'tlikely I shall, but it seems to me you might at least let me know you aresafe. "

"I will promise you that, " she said earnestly. "You know I'm going to sendyou back these things. " She touched the cloak and the hat. "You might needthem to keep you from having to explain their absence, " she reminded him. 

The moments fairly flew. They passed the North Side Station, and werenearing the flag station. After that there would be no more stops untilpast midnight. The young man knew he must get off. 

"I have almost a mind to go on to Chicago and see that you are safelylocated, " he said with sudden daring. "It seems too terrible to set youadrift in the world this way. "

"Indeed, you must not, " said the young woman, with a gentle dignity. "Haveyou stopped to think what people--what your mother, for instance--wouldthink of me if she were ever to know I had permitted such a thing? Youknow you must not. Please don't speak of it again. "

"I cannot help feeling that I ought to take care of you, " he said, buthalf convinced. 

"But I cannot permit it, " she said firmly, lifting her trustful eyes tosmile at him. 

"Will you promise to let me know if you need anything?"

"No, I'm afraid I cannot promise even that, " she answered, "because, whileyou have been a true friend to me, the immediate and awful necessity is, Ihope, past. "

"You will at least take this, " he said, drawing from his pocket aninconspicuous purse of beautiful leather, and putting into it all themoney his pockets contained. "I saw you had no pocketbook, " he went on, "and I ventured to get this one in the drug-store below the station. Willyou accept it from me? I have your ring, you know, and when you take thering back you may, if you wish, return the purse. I wish it were a betterone, but it was the most decent one they had. You will need it to carryyour ticket. And I have put in the change. It would not do for you to beentirely without money. I'm sorry it isn't more. There are only ninedollars and seventy-five cents left. Do you think that will see youthrough? If there had been any place down-town here where I could cash acheck at this time of night, I should have made it more. "

He looked at her anxiously as he handed over the pocketbook. It seemed aridiculously small sum with which to begin a journey alone, especially fora young woman of her apparent refinement. On the other hand, his friendswould probably say he was a fool for having hazarded so much as he hadupon an unknown woman, who was perhaps an adventuress. However, he hadthrown discretion to the winds, and was undeniably interested in his newacquaintance. 

"How thoughtful you are!" said the girl. "It would have been mostembarrassing not to have a place to put my ticket, nor any money. Thisseems a fortune after being penniless"--she smiled ruefully. "Are you sureyou have not reduced yourself to that condition? Have you saved enough tocarry you home?"

"Oh, I have my mileage book with me, " he said happily. It pleased himabsurdly that she had not declined the pocketbook. 

"Thank you so much. I shall return the price of the ticket and this moneyas soon as possible, " said the girl earnestly. 

"You must not think of that, " he protested. "You know I have your ring. That is far more valuable than anything I have given you. "

"Oh, but you said you were going to keep the ring, so that will not payfor this, I want to be sure that you lose nothing. "

He suddenly became aware that the train was whistling and that theconductor was motioning him to go. 

"But you have not told me your name, " he cried in dismay. 

"You have named me, " she answered, smiling. "I am Mary Remington. "

"But that is not your real name. "

"You may call me Mary if you like, " she said. "Now go, please, quick! I'mafraid you'll get hurt. "

"You will remember that I am your friend?"

"Yes, thank you. Hurry, please!"

The train paused long enough for him to step in front of her window andwave his hat in salute. Then she passed on into the night, and only twotwinkling lights, like diminishing red berries, marked the progress of thetrain until it disappeared in the cut. Nothing was left but the hollowechoes of its going, which the hills gave back. 

[Illustration]

IV

Dunham listened as long as his ear could catch the sound, then a strangedesolation settled down upon him. How was it that a few short hours ago hehad known nothing, cared nothing, about this stranger? And now her goinghad left things blank enough! It was foolish, of course--just highlywrought nerves over this most extraordinary occurrence. Life hadheretofore run in such smooth, conventional grooves as to have been almostprosaic; and now to be suddenly plunged into romance and mysteryunbalanced him for the time. To-morrow, probably, he would again be ableto look sane living in the face, and perhaps call himself a fool for hismost unusual interest in this chance acquaintance; but just at this momentwhen he had parted from her, when the memory of her lovely face and pureeyes lingered with him, when her bravery and fear were both so fresh inhis mind, and the very sound of her music was still in his brain, hesimply could not without a pang turn back again to life which contained nosolution of her mystery, no hope of another vision of her face. 

The little station behind him was closed, though a light over the deskshone brightly through its front window and the telegraph sounder wasclicking busily. The operator had gone over the hill with an importanttelegram, leaving the station door locked. The platform was windy andcheerless, with a view of a murky swamp, and the sound of deep-throatedinhabitants croaking out a late fall concert. A rusty-throated cricket ina crack of the platform wailed a plaintive note now and then, and offbeyond the swamp, in the edge of the wood, a screech-owl hooted. 

Turning impatiently from the darkness, Dunham sought the bright window, infront of which lay a newspaper. He could read the large headlines of acolumn--no more, for the paper was upside down, and a bunch of bill-headslay partly across it. It read:

 MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF YOUNG AND PRETTY WOMAN

His heart stood still, and then went thudding on in dull, horrid blows. Vainly he tried to read further. He followed every visible word of thatpaper to discover its date and origin, but those miserable bill-headsfrustrated his effort. He felt like dashing his hand through the glass, but reflected that the act might result in his being locked up in somemiserable country jail. He tried the window and gave the door anothervicious shake, but all to no purpose. Finally he turned on his heel andwalked up and down for an hour, tramping the length of the shaky platform, back and forth, till the train rumbled up. As he took his seat in the carhe saw the belated agent come running up the platform with a lightedlantern on his arm, and a package of letters, which he handed to thebrakeman, but there was not time to beg the newspaper from him. Dunham'sindignant mind continued to dwell upon the headlines, to the annoyingaccompaniment of screech-owl and frog and cricket. He resented theadjective "pretty. " Why should any reporter dare to apply that word to asweet and lovely woman? It seemed so superficial, so belittling, and--butthen, of course, this headline did not apply to his new friend. It wassome other poor creature, some one to whom perhaps the word "pretty"really applied; some one who was not really beautiful, only pretty. 

At the first stop a man in front got out, leaving a newspaper in the seat. With eager hands, Dunham leaned forward and grasped it, searching itscolumns in vain for the tantalizing headlines. But there were othersequally arrestive. This paper announced the mysterious disappearance of ayoung actress who was suspected of poisoning her husband. When seen last, she was boarding a train en route to Washington. She had not arrivedthere, however, so far as could be discovered. It was supposed that shewas lingering in the vicinity of Philadelphia or Baltimore. There wereadded a few incriminating details concerning her relationship with herdead husband, and a brief sketch of her sensational life. The paragraphclosed with the statement that she was an accomplished musician. 

The young man frowned and, opening his window, flung the scandalous sheetto the breeze. He determined to forget what he had read, yet the lineskept coming before his eyes. 

When he reached the city he went to the news-stand in the station, wherewas an agent who knew him, and procured a copy of every paper on sale. Then, instead of hurrying home, he found a seat in a secluded corner andproceeded to examine his purchases. 

In large letters on the front page of a New York paper blazed:

 HOUSE ROBBED OF JEWELS WORTH TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS BY BEAUTIFUL YOUNG ADVENTURESS MASQUERADING AS A PARLOR MAID

He ran his eye down the column and gathered that she was still at large, though the entire police force of New York was on her track. He shiveredat the thought, and began to feel sympathy for all wrong-doers and truantsfrom the law. It was horrible to have detectives out everywhere watchingfor beautiful young women, just when this one in whom his interestcentred was trying to escape from something. 

He turned to another paper, only to be met by the words:

 ESCAPE OF FAIR LUNATIC

and underneath:

 Prison walls could not confine Miss Nancy Lee, who last week threw a lighted lamp at her mother, setting fire to the house, and then attempted suicide. The young woman seems to have recovered her senses, and professes to know nothing of what happened, but the physicians say she is liable to another attack of insanity, and deem it safe to keep her confined. She escaped during the night, leaving no clew to her whereabouts. How she managed to get open the window through which she left the asylum is still a mystery. 

In disgust he flung the paper from him and took up another. 

 FOUL PLAY SUSPECTED! BEAUTIFUL YOUNG HEIRESS MISSING

His soul turned sick within him. He looked up and saw a little processionof late revellers rushing out to the last suburban train, the girlsleaving a trail of orris perfume and a vision of dainty opera cloaks. Oneof the men was a city friend of his. Dunham half envied him hisunperturbed mind. To be sure, he would not get back to the city till threein the morning, but he would have no visions of robberies and fairlunatics and hard pressed maidens unjustly pursued, to mar his rest. 

Dunham buttoned his coat and turned up his collar as he started out intothe street, for the night had turned cold, and his nerves made him chilly. As he walked, the blood began to race more healthily in his veins, and thehorrors of the evening papers were dispelled. In their place came pleasantmemories of the evening at Mrs. Bowman's, of the music, and of their rideand talk together. In his heart a hope began to rise that her dark dayswould pass, and that he might find her again and know her better. 

His brief night's sleep was cut short by a sharp knock at his door thenext morning. He awoke with a confused idea of being on a sleeping-car, and wondered if he had plenty of time to dress, but his sister's voicequickly dispelled the illusion. 

"Tryon, aren't you almost ready to come down to breakfast? Do hurry, please. I've something awfully important to consult you about. "

His sister's tone told him there was need for haste if he would keep inher good graces, so he made a hurried toilet and went down, to find hishousehold in a state of subdued excitement. 

"I'm just as worried as I can be, " declared his mother. "I want to consultyou, Tryon. I have put such implicit confidence in Norah, and I cannotbear to accuse her unjustly, but I have missed a number of little thingslately. There was my gold link bag----"

"Mother, you know you said you were sure you left that at the CenturyClub. "

"Don't interrupt, Cornelia. Of course it is possible I left it at the clubrooms, but I begin to think now I didn't have it with me at all. Thenthere is my opal ring. To be sure, it isn't worth a great deal, but onewho will take little things will take large ones. "

"What's the matter, Mother? Norah been appropriating property not herown?"

"I'm very much afraid she has, Tryon. What would you do about it? It is sounpleasant to charge a person with stealing. It is such a vulgar thing tosteal. Somehow I thought Norah was more refined. "

"Why, I suppose there's nothing to do but just charge her with it, isthere? Are you quite sure it is gone? What is it, any way? A ring, did yousay?"

"No, it's a hat, " said Cornelia shortly. "A sixty-dollar hat. I wish I'dkept it now, and then she wouldn't have dared. It had two beautiful willowostrich plumes on it, but mother didn't think it was becoming. She wantedsome color about it instead of all black. I left it in my room, andcharged Norah to see that the man got it when he called, and now the mancomes and says he wants the hat, and it is _gone_! Norah insists that whenshe last saw it, it was in my room. But of course that's absurd, for therewas nobody else to take it but Thompson, and he's been in the family forso long. "

"Nonsense!" said her brother sharply, dropping his fruit knife in hisplate with a rattle that made the young woman jump. "Cornelia, I'mashamed of you, thinking that poor, innocent girl has stolen your hat. Why, she wouldn't steal a pin, I am sure. You can tell she's honest bylooking into her eyes. Girls with blue eyes like that don't lie andsteal. "

"Really!" Cornelia remarked haughtily. "You seem to know a great dealabout her eyes. You may feel differently when I find the hat in herpossession. "

"Cornelia, " interrupted Tryon, quite beside himself, "don't think of sucha thing as speaking to that poor girl about that hat. I know she hasn'tstolen it. The hat will probably be found, and then how will you feel?"

"But I tell you the hat cannot be found!" said the exasperated sister. "And I shall just have to pay for a hat that I can never wear. "

"Mother, I appeal to you, " said the son earnestly. "Don't allow Corneliato speak of the hat to the girl. I wouldn't have such an injustice done inour house. The hat will turn up soon if you just go about the mattercalmly. You'll find it quite naturally and unexpectedly, perhaps. Any way, if you don't, I'll pay for the hat, rather than have the girl suspected. "

"But, Tryon, " protested his mother, "if she isn't honest, you know wewouldn't want her about. "

"Honest, Mother? She's as honest as the day is long. I am certain ofthat. "

The mother rose reluctantly. 

"Well, we might let it go another day, " she consented. Then, looking up atthe sky, she added, "I wonder if it is going to rain. I have a Reciprocitymeeting on for to-day, and I'm a delegate to some little unheard-of place. It usually does rain when one goes into the country, I've noticed. "

She went into the hall, and presently returned with a distressed look uponher face. 

"Tryon, I'm afraid you're wrong, " she said. "Now my rain-coat is missing. My new rain-coat! I hung it up in the hall-closet with my own hands, afterit came from the store. I really think something ought to be done!"

"There! I hope you see!" said Cornelia severely. "I think it's high timesomething was done. I shall 'phone for a detective at once!"

"Cornelia, you'll do nothing of the kind, " her brother protested, nowthoroughly aroused. "I'll agree to pay for the hat and the rain-coat ifthey are not forthcoming before a fortnight passes, but you simply shallnot ruin that poor girl's reputation. I insist, Mother, that you put astop to such rash proceedings. I'll make myself personally responsible forthat girl's honesty. "

"Well, of course, Tryon, if you wish it----" said his mother, with anxioushesitation. 

"I certainly do wish it, Mother. I shall take it as personal if anythingis done in this matter without consulting me. Remember, Cornelia, I willnot have any trifling. A girl's reputation is certainly worth more thanseveral hats and rain-coats, and I _know_ she has not taken them. "

He walked from the dining-room and from the house in angry dignity, to theastonishment of his mother and sister, to whom he was usually courtesyitself. Consulting him about household matters was as a rule merely aform, for he almost never interfered. The two women looked at each otherin startled bewilderment. 

"Mother, " said Cornelia, "you don't suppose he can have fallen in lovewith Norah, do you? Why, she's Irish and freckled! And Tryon has alwaysbeen so fastidious!"

"Cornelia! How dare you suggest such a thing? Tryon is a _Dunham_. Whatever else a Dunham may or may not do, he never does anything low orunrefined. "

The small, prim, stylish mother looked quite regal in her aristocraticrage. 

"But, Mother, one reads such dreadful things in the papers now. Of courseTryon would never _marry_ any one like that, but----"

"Cornelia!"--her mother's voice had almost reached a patrician scream--"Iforbid you to mention the subject again. I cannot think where you learnedto voice such thoughts. "

"Well, my goodness, Mother, I don't mean anything, only I do wish I hadmy hat. I always did like all black. I can't imagine what ails Try, if itisn't that. "

Tryon Dunham took his way to his office much perturbed in mind. Perplexities seemed to be thickening about him. With the dawn of themorning had come that sterner common-sense which told him he was a foolfor having taken up with a strange young woman on the street, who was soevidently flying from justice. He had deceived not only his intimatefriends by palming her off as a fit companion for them, but his mother andsister. He had practically stolen their garments, and had squandered morethan fifty dollars of his own money. And what had he to show for all this?The memory of a sweet face, the lingering beauty of the name "Mary" whenshe bade him good-by, and a diamond ring. The cool morning light presentedthe view that the ring was probably valueless, and that he was a fool. 

Ah, the ring! A sudden warm thrill shot through him, and his hand searchedhis vest pocket, where he had hastily put the jewel before leaving hisroom. That was something tangible. He could at least know what it wasworth, and so make sure once for all whether he had been deceived. No, that would not be fair either, for her father might have made her think itwas valuable, or he might even have been taken in himself, if he were nota judge of jewels. 

Dunham examined it as he walked down the street, too perplexed with hisown tumultuous thoughts to remember his usual trolley. He slipped the ringon his finger and let it catch the morning sunlight, now shining broad andclear in spite of the hovering rain-clouds in the distance. And gloriouslydid the sun illumine the diamond, burrowing into the great depths of itsclear white heart, and causing it to break into a million fires of glory, flashing and glancing until it fairly dazzled him. The stone seemed to beof unusual beauty and purity, but he would step into the diamond shop ashe passed and make sure. He had a friend there who could tell him allabout it. His step quickened, and he covered the distance in a shorttime. 

After the morning greeting, he handed over his ring. 

"This belongs to a friend of mine, " he said, trying to look unconcerned. "I should like to know if the stone is genuine, and about what it isworth. "

His friend took the ring and retired behind a curious little instrumentfor the eye, presently emerging with a respectful look upon his face. 

"Your friend is fortunate to have such a beautiful stone. It is unusuallyclear and white, and exquisitely cut. I should say it was worth atleast"--he paused and then named a sum which startled Dunham, evenaccustomed as he was to counting values in high figures. He took the jewelback with a kind of awe. Where had his mysterious lady acquired thiswondrous bauble which she had tossed to him for a trifle? In a tumult offeeling, he went on to his office more perplexed than ever. Suspicions ofall sorts crowded thickly into his mind, but for every thought thatshadowed the fair reputation of the lady, there came into his mind herclear eyes and cast out all doubts. Finally, after a bad hour of tryingto work, he slipped the ring on his little finger, determined to wear itand thus prove to himself his belief in her, at least until he hadabsolute proof against her. Then he took up his hat and went out, decidingto accept Judge Blackwell's invitation to visit his office. He found acordial reception, and the Judge talked business in a most satisfactorymanner. His proposals bade fair to bring about some of the dearest wishesof the young man's heart, and yet as he left the building he was thinkingmore about the mysterious stranger who had disappeared from the Judge'soffice the day before than about the wonderful good luck that had come tohim in a business way. 

They had not talked much about her. The Judge had brought out her hat--abeautiful velvet one, with exquisite plumes--her gloves, a costly leatherpurse, and a fine hemstitched handkerchief, and as he put them sadly awayon a closet shelf, he said no trace of her had as yet been found. 

On his way toward his own office, Tryon Dunham pondered the remarkablecoincidence which had made him the possessor of two parts of the samemystery--for he had no doubt that the hat belonged to the young woman whohad claimed his help the evening before. 

 * * * * *

Meantime, the girl who was speeding along toward Chicago had not forgottenhim. She could not if she would, for all about her were reminders of him. The conductor took charge of her ticket, telling her in his gruff, kindway what time they would arrive in the city. The porter was solicitousabout her comfort, the newsboy brought the latest magazines and a box ofchocolates and laid them at her shrine with a smile of admiration and thewords, "Th' g'n'lmun sent 'em!" The suit-case lay on the seat opposite, the reflection of her face in the window-glass, as she gazed into the inkydarkness outside, was crowned by the hat he had provided, and when shemoved the silken rustle of the rain-coat reminded her of his kindness andforethought. She put her head back and closed her eyes, and for just aninstant let her weary, overwrought mind think what it would mean if theman from whom she was fleeing had been such as this one seemed to be. 

By and by, she opened the suit-case, half doubtfully, feeling that she wasalmost intruding upon another's possessions. 

There were a dress-suit and a change of fine linen, handkerchiefs, neckties, a pair of gloves, a soft, black felt negligée hat folded, alarge black silk muffler, a bath-robe, and the usual silver-mountedbrushes, combs, and other toilet articles. She looked them over in abusiness-like way, trying to see how she could make use of them. Removingher hat, she covered it with the silk muffler, to protect it from dust. Then she took off her dress and wrapped herself in the soft bath-robe, wondering as she did so at her willingness to put on a stranger'sgarments. Somehow, in her brief acquaintance with this man, he hadimpressed her with his own pleasant fastidiousness, so that there was akind of pleasure in using his things, as if they had been those of avalued friend. 

She touched the electric button that controlled the lights in the littleapartment, and lay down in the darkness to think out her problem of thenew life that lay before her. 

[Illustration]

V

Beginning with the awful moment when she first realized her danger and thenecessity for immediate flight, she lived over every perilous instant, hernerves straining, her breath bated as if she were experiencing it all oncemore. The horror of it! Her own hopeless, helpless condition! But finally, because her trouble was new and her body and mind, though worn withexcitement, were healthy and young, she sank into a deep sleep, withouthaving decided at all what she should do. 

At last she woke from a terrible dream, in which the hand of her pursuerwas upon her, and her preserver was in the dark distance. With thatstrange insistence which torments the victim of such dreams, she wasobliged to lie still and imagine it out, again and again, until the faceand voice of the young man grew very real in the darkness, and she longedinexpressibly for the comfort of his presence once more. 

At length she shook off these pursuing thoughts and deliberately rousedherself to plan her future. 

The first necessity, she decided, was to change her appearance so far aspossible, so that if news of her escape, with full description, had beentelegraphed, she might evade notice. To that end, she arose in the earlydawning of a gray and misty morning, and arranged her hair as she hadnever worn it before, in two braids and wound closely about her head. Itwas neat, and appropriate to the vocation which she had decided upon, andit made more difference in her appearance than any other thing she couldhave done. All the soft, fluffy fulness of rippling hair that had framedher face was drawn close to her head, and the smooth bands gave her thesimplicity and severity of a saint in some old picture. She pinned up hergown until it did not show below the long black coat, and folded a whitelinen handkerchief about her throat over the delicate lace and garnitureof the modish waist. Then she looked dubiously at the hat. 

With a girl's instinct, her first thought was for her borrowed plumage. Afine mist was slanting down and had fretted the window-pane until therewas nothing visible but dull gray shadows of a world that flewmonotonously by. With sudden remembrance, she opened the suit-case andtook out the folded black hat, shook it into shape, and put it on. It wasmannish, of course, but girls often wore such hats. 

As she surveyed herself in the long mirror of her door, the slow colorstole into her cheeks. Yet the costume was not unbecoming, nor unusual. She looked like a simple schoolgirl, or a young business woman going toher day's work. 

But she looked at the fashionable proportions of the other hat withsomething like alarm. How could she protect it? She did not for a momentthink of abandoning it, for it was her earnest desire to return it atonce, unharmed, to its kind purloiner. 

She summoned the newsboy and purchased three thick newspapers. From these, with the aid of a few pins, she made a large package of the hat. To besure, it did not look like a hat when it was done, but that was all thebetter. The feathers were upheld and packed softly about with bits ofpaper crushed together to make a springy cushion, and the whole built outand then covered over with paper. She reflected that girls who wore theirhair wound about their heads and covered by plain felt hats would not beunlikely to carry large newspaper-wrapped packages through the citystreets. 

She decided to go barehanded, and put the white kid gloves in thesuit-case, but she took off her beautiful rings, and hid them safelyinside her dress. 

When the porter came to announce that her breakfast was waiting in thedining-car, he looked at her almost with a start, but she answered hislook with a pleasant, "Good morning. You see I'm fixed for a damp day. "

"Yes, miss, " said the man deferentially. "It's a nasty day outside. I'spect Chicago'll be mighty wet. De wind's off de lake, and de rain'scomin' from all way 'twoncet. "

She sacrificed one of her precious quarters to get rid of the attentiveporter, and started off with a brisk step down the long platform to thestation. It was part of her plan to get out of the neighborhood as quicklyas possible, so she followed the stream of people who instead of goinginto the waiting-room veered off to the street door and out into thegreat, wet, noisy world. With the same reasoning, she followed a group ofpeople into a car, which presently brought her into the neighborhood ofthe large stores, as she had hoped it would. It was with relief that sherecognized the name on one of the stores as being of world-widereputation. 

Well for her that she was an experienced shopper. She went straight to themillinery department and arranged to have the hat boxed and sent to theaddress Dunham had given her. Her gentle voice and handsome rain-coatproclaimed her a lady and commanded deference and respectful attention. Asshe walked away, she had an odd feeling of having communicated with herone friend and preserver. 

It had cost less to express the hat than she had feared, yet her stock ofmoney was woefully small. Some kind of a dress she must have, and a wrap, that she might be disguised, but what could she buy and yet have somethingleft for food? There was no telling how long it would be before she couldreplenish her purse. Life must be reduced to its lowest terms. True, shehad jewelry which might be sold, but that would scarcely be safe, for ifshe were watched, she might easily be identified by it. What did the verypoor do, who were yet respectable?

The ready-made coats and skirts were entirely beyond her means, even thosethat had been marked down. With a hopeless feeling, she walked aimlesslydown between the tables of goods. The suit-case weighed like lead, and sheput it on the floor to rest her aching arms. Lifting her eyes, she saw asign over a table--"Linene Skirts, 75 cts. And $1. 00. "

Here was a ray of hope. She turned eagerly to examine them. Piles ofsombre skirts, blue and black and tan. They were stout and coarse andscant, and not of the latest cut, but what mattered it? She decided on aseventy-five cent black one. It seemed pitiful to have to economize in amatter of twenty-five cents, when she had been used to counting her moneyby dollars, yet there was a feeling of exultation at having gotten forthat price any skirt at all that would do. A dim memory of what she hadread about ten-cent lodging-houses, where human beings were herded likecattle, hovered over her. 

Growing wise with experience, she discovered that she could get a blacksateen shirt-waist for fifty cents. Rubbers and a cotton umbrella tookanother dollar and a half. She must save at least a dollar to send backthe suit-case by express. 

A bargain-table of odds and ends of woollen jackets, golf vests, and oldfashioned blouse sweaters, selling off at a dollar apiece, solved theproblem of a wrap. She selected a dark blouse, of an ugly, purply blue, but thick and warm. Then with her precious packages she asked apleasant-faced saleswoman if there were any place near where she couldslip on a walking skirt she had just bought to save her other skirt fromthe muddy streets. She was ushered into a little fitting-room near by. Itwas only about four feet square, with one chair and a tiny table, but itlooked like a palace to the girl in her need, and as she fastened the doorand looked at the bare painted walls that reached but a foot or so aboveher head and had no ceiling, she wished with all her heart that such arefuge as this might be her own somewhere in the great, wide, fearfulworld. 

Rapidly she slipped off her fine, silk-lined cloth garments, and put onthe stiff sateen waist and the coarse black skirt. Then she surveyedherself, and was not ill pleased. There was a striking lack of collar andbelt. She sought out a black necktie and pinned it about her waist, andthen, with a protesting frown, she deliberately tore a strip from the edgeof one of the fine hem-stitched handkerchiefs, and folded it in about herneck in a turn-over collar. The result was quite startling and unfamiliar. The gown, the hair, the hat, and the neat collar gave her the look of ayoung nurse-girl or upper servant. On the whole, the disguise could nothave been better. She added the blue woollen blouse, and felt certain thateven her most intimate friends would not recognize her. She folded therain-coat, and placed it smoothly in the suit-case, then with dismayremembered that she had nothing in which to put her own cloth dress, savethe few inadequate paper wrappings that had come about her simplepurchases. Vainly she tried to reduce the dress to a bundle that would becovered by the papers. It was of no use. She looked down at the suit-case. There was room for the dress in there, but she wanted to send Mr. Dunham'sproperty back at once. She might leave the dress in the store, but somedetective with an accurate description of that dress might be watching, find it, and trace her. Besides, she shrank from leaving her garmentsabout in public places. If there had been any bridge near at hand whereshe might unobserved throw the dress into a dark river, or a consumingfire where she might dispose of it, she would have done it. But whatevershe was to do with it must be done at once. Her destiny must be settledbefore the darkness came down. She folded the dress smoothly and laid itin the suit-case, under the rain-coat. 

She sat down at a writing-desk, in the waiting-room, and wrote: "I amsafe, and I thank you. " Then she paused an instant, and with nervous hastewrote "Mary" underneath. She opened the suit-case and pinned the paper tothe lapel of the evening coat. Just three dollars and sixty-seven centsshe had left in her pocket-book after paying the expressage on thesuit-case. 

She felt doubtful whether she might not have done wrong about thus sendingher dress back, but what else could she have done? If she had bought a boxin which to put it, she would have had to carry it with her, and perhapsthe dress might have been found during her absence from her room, and shesuspected because of it. At any rate, it was too late now, and she feltsure the young man would understand. She hoped it would not inconveniencehim especially to get rid of it. Surely he could give it to somecharitable organization without much trouble. 

At her first waking, in the early gray hours of the morning, she hadlooked her predicament calmly in the face. It was entirely likely that itwould continue indefinitely; it might be, throughout her whole life. Shecould now see no way of help for herself. Time might, perhaps, give her afriend who would assist her, or a way might open back into her old life insome unthought-of manner, but for a time there must be hiding and a wayfound to earn her living. 

She had gone carefully over her own accomplishments. Her musicalattainments, which would naturally have been the first thought, were outof the question. Her skill as a musician was so great, and so well knownby her enemy, that she would probably be traced by it at once. As shelooked back at the hour spent at Mrs. Bowman's piano, she shuddered at therealization that it might have been her undoing, had it chanced that herenemy passed the house, with a suspicion that she was inside. She wouldnever dare to seek a position as accompanist, and she knew how futile itwould be for her to attempt to teach music in an unknown city, amongstrangers. She might starve to death before a single pupil appeared. Besides, that too would put her in a position where she would be moreeasily found. The same arguments were true if she were to attempt to takea position as teacher or governess, although she was thoroughly competentto do so. Rapidly rejecting all the natural resources which under ordinarycircumstances she would have used to maintain herself, she determined tochange her station entirely, at least for the present. She would havechosen to do something in a little, quiet hired room somewhere, sewing ordecorating or something of the sort, but that too would be hopelessly outof her reach, without friends to aid her. A servant's place in some one'shome was the only thing possible that presented itself to her mind. Shecould not cook, nor do general housework, but she thought she could fillthe place of waitress. 

With a brave face, but a shrinking heart, she stepped into a drug-storeand looked up in the directory the addresses of several employmentagencies. 

[Illustration]

VI

It was half past eleven when she stepped into the first agency on herlist, and business was in full tide. 

While she stood shrinking by the door the eyes of a dozen women fastenedupon her, each with keen scrutiny. The sensitive color stole into herdelicate cheeks. As the proprietress of the office began to question her, she felt her courage failing. 

"You wish a position?" The woman had a nose like a hawk, and eyes thatheld no sympathy. "What do you want? General housework?"

"I should like a position as waitress. " Her voice was low and soundedfrightened to herself. 

The hawk nose went up contemptuously. 

"Better take general housework. There are too many waitresses already. "

"I understand the work of a waitress, but I never have done generalhousework, " she answered with the voice of a gentlewoman, which somehowangered the hawk, who had trained herself to get the advantage over peopleand keep it or else know the reason why. 

"Very well, do as you please, of course, but you bite your own nose off. Let me see your references. "

The girl was ready for this. 

"I am sorry, but I cannot give you any. I have lived only in one home, where I had entire charge of the table and dining-room, and that home wasbroken up when the people went abroad three years ago. I could show youletters written by the mistress of that home if I had my trunk here, butit is in another city, and I do not know when I shall be able to send forit. "

"No references!" screamed the hawk, then raising her voice, although itwas utterly unnecessary: "Ladies, here is a girl who has no references. Doany of you want to venture?" The contemptuous laugh that followed had theeffect of a warning to every woman in the room. "And this girl scornsgeneral housework, and presumes to dictate for a place as waitress, " wenton the hawk. 

"I want a waitress badly, " said a troubled woman in a subdued whisper, "but I really wouldn't dare take a girl without references. She might be athief, you know, and then--really, she doesn't look as if she was used tohouses like mine. I must have a neat, stylish-looking girl. Noself-respecting waitress nowadays would go out in the street dressed likethat. "

All the eyes in the room seemed boring through the poor girl as she stoodtrembling, humiliated, her cheeks burning, while horrified tears demandedto be let up into her eyes. She held her dainty head proudly, and turnedaway with dignity. 

"However, if you care to try, " called out the hawk, "you can register atthe desk and leave two dollars, and if in the meantime you can think ofanybody who'll give us a reference, we'll look it up. But we neverguarantee girls without references. "

The tears were too near the surface now for her even to acknowledge thisinformation flung at her in an unpleasant voice. She went out of theoffice, and immediately, --surreptitiously, --two women hurried after her. 

One was flabby, large, and overdressed, with a pasty complexion and eyeslike a fish, in which was a lack of all moral sense. She hurried after thegirl and took her by the shoulder just as she reached the top of thestairs that led down into the street. 

The other was a small, timid woman, with anxiety and indecision writtenall over her, and a last year's street suit with the sleeves remodelled. When she saw who had stopped the girl, she lingered behind in the hall andpretended there was something wrong with the braid on her skirt. While shelingered she listened. 

"Wait a minute, Miss, " said the flashy woman. "You needn't feel bad abouthaving references. Everybody isn't so particular. You come with me, andI'll put you in the way of earning more than you can ever get as awaitress. You weren't cut out for work, any way, with that face and voice. I've been watching you. You were meant for a lady. You need to be dressedup, and you'll be a real pretty girl----"

As she talked, she had come nearer, and now she leaned over and whisperedso that the timid woman, who was beginning dimly to perceive what mannerof creature this other woman was, could not hear. 

But the girl stepped back with sudden energy and flashing eyes, shakingoff the be-ringed hand that had grasped her shoulder. 

"Don't you dare to speak to me!" she said in a loud, clear voice. "Don'tyou dare to touch me! You are a wicked woman! If you touch me again, Iwill go in there and tell all those women how you have insulted me!"

"Oh, well, if you're a saint, starve!" hissed the woman. 

"I should rather starve ten thousand times than take help from you, " saidthe girl, and her clear, horrified eyes seemed to burn into the woman'sevil face. She turned and slid away, like the wily old serpent that shewas. 

Down the stairs like lightning sped the girl, her head up in pride andhorror, her eyes still flashing. And down the stairs after her sped thelittle, anxious woman, panting and breathless, determined to keep her insight till she could decide whether it was safe to take a girl without acharacter--yet who had just shown a bit of her character unaware. 

Two blocks from the employment office the girl paused, to realize that shewas walking blindly, without any destination. She was trembling so withterror that she was not sure whether she had the courage to enter anotheroffice, and a long vista of undreamed-of fears arose in her imagination. 

The little woman paused, too, eying the girl cautiously, then began in aneager voice:

"I've been following you. "

The girl started nervously, a cold chill of fear coming over her. Was thisa woman detective?

"I heard what that awful woman said to you, and I saw how you acted. Youmust be a good girl, or you wouldn't have talked to her that way. Isuppose I'm doing a dangerous thing, but I can't help it. I believe you'reall right, and I'm going to try you, if you'll take general housework. Ineed somebody right away, for I'm going to have a dinner party to-morrownight, and my girl left me this morning. "

The kind tone in the midst of her troubles brought tears to the girl'seyes. 

"Oh, thank you!" she said as she brushed the tears away. "I'm a strangerhere, and I have never before been among strangers this way. I'd like tocome and work for you, but I couldn't do general housework, I'm sure. Inever did it, and I wouldn't know how. "

"Can't you cook a little? I could teach you my ways. "

"I don't know the least thing about cooking. I never cooked a thing in mylife. "

"What a pity! What was your mother thinking about? Every girl ought to bebrought up to know a little about cooking, even if she does have someother employment. "

"My mother has been dead a good many years. " The tears brimmed over now, but the girl tried to smile. "I could help you with your dinner party, "she went on. "That is, I know all about setting the tables and arrangingthe flowers and favors. I could paint the place-cards, too--I've done itmany a time. And I could wait on the table. But I couldn't cook even anoyster. "

"Oh, place-cards!" said the little woman, her eyes brightening. She caughtat the word as though she had descried a new star in the firmament. "Iwish I could have them. They cost so much to buy. I might have mywasherwoman come and help with the cooking. She cooks pretty well, and Icould help her beforehand, but she couldn't wait on table, to save herlife. I wonder if you know much about menus. Could you help me fix out thecourses and say what you think I ought to have, or don't you know aboutthat? You see, I have this very particular company coming, and I want tohave things nice. I don't know them very well. My husband has businessrelations with them and wants them invited, and of all times for Betty toleave this was the worst!" She had unconsciously fallen into a tone ofequality with the strange girl. 

"I should like to help you, " said the girl, "but I must find somewhere tostay before night, and if I find a place I must take it. I just came tothe city this morning, and have nowhere to stay overnight. "

The troubled look flitted across the woman's face for a moment, but herdesire got the better of her. 

"I suppose my husband would think I was crazy to do it, " she said aloud, "but I just can't help trusting you. Suppose you come and stay with meto-day and to-morrow, and help me out with this dinner party, and you canstay overnight at my house and sleep in the cook's room. If I like yourwork, I'll give you a recommendation as waitress. You can't get a goodplace anywhere without it, not from the offices, I'm sure. Arecommendation ought to be worth a couple of days' work to you. I'd payyou something besides, but I really can't afford it, for the washerwomancharges a dollar and a half a day when she goes out to cook; but if youget your board and lodging and a reference, that ought to pay you. "

"You are very kind, " said the girl. "I shall be glad to do that. "

"When will you come? Can you go with me now, or have you got to go afteryour things?"

"I haven't any things but these, " she said simply, "and perhaps you willnot think I am fine enough for your dinner party. I have a little money. Icould buy a white apron. My trunk is a good many miles away, and I was indesperate straits and had to leave it. "

"H'm! A stepmother, probably, " thought the kindly little woman. "Poorchild! She doesn't look as if she was used to roughing it. If I could onlyhold on to her and train her, she might be a treasure, but there's notelling what John will say. I won't tell him anything about her, if I canhelp it, till the dinner is over. "

Aloud she said: "Oh, that won't be necessary. I've got a white apron I'lllend you--perhaps I'll give it to you if you do your work well. Then wecan fix up some kind of a waitress's cap out of a lace-edged handkerchief, and you'll look fine. I'd rather do that and have you come right alonghome with me, for everything is at sixes at sevens. Betty went off withoutwashing the breakfast dishes. You can wash dishes, any way. "

"Why, I can try, " laughed the girl, the ridiculousness of her presentsituation suddenly getting the better of other emotions. 

And so they got into a car and were whirled away into a pretty suburb. Thewoman, whose name was Mrs. Hart, lived in a common little house filledwith imitation oriental rugs and cheap furniture. 

The two went to work at once, bringing order out of the confusion thatreigned in the tiny kitchen. In the afternoon the would-be waitress satdown with a box of water-colors to paint dinner-cards, and as her skilfulbrush brought into being dainty landscapes, lovely flowers, and littlebrown birds, she pondered the strangeness of her lot. 

The table the next night was laid with exquisite care, the scant supply offlowers having been used to best advantage, and everything showing thetouch of a skilled hand. The long hours that Mrs. Hart had spentpuckering her brow over the household department of fashion magazineshelped her to recognize the fact that in her new maid she had what she waspleased to call "the real thing. "

She sighed regretfully when the guest of honor, Mrs. Rhinehart, spoke ofthe deftness and pleasant appearance of her hostess's waitress. 

"Yes, " Mrs. Hart said, swelling with pride, "she is a treasure. I onlywish I could keep her. "

"She's going to get married, I suppose. They all do when they're good, "sympathized the guest. 

"No, but she simply won't do cooking, and I really haven't work enough fortwo servants in this little house. "

The guest sat up and took notice. 

"You don't mean to tell me that you are letting a girl like that slipthrough your fingers? I wish I had known about her. I have spent threedays in intelligence offices. Is there any chance for me, do you think?"

Then did the little woman prove that she should have had an _e_ in hername, for she burst into a most voluble account of the virtues of her newmaid, until the other woman was ready to hire her on the spot. The resultof it all was that "Mary" was summoned to an interview with Mrs. Rhinehartin the dining-room, and engaged at four dollars a week, with every otherSunday afternoon and every other Thursday out, and her uniforms furnished. 

The next morning Mr. Hart gave her a dollar-bill and told her that heappreciated the help she had given them, and wanted to pay her somethingfor it. 

She thanked him graciously and took the money with a kind of awe. Herfirst earnings! It seemed so strange to think that she had really earnedsome money, she who had always had all she wanted without lifting afinger. 

She went to a store and bought a hair-brush and a few little things thatshe felt were necessities, with a fifty-cent straw telescope in which toput them. Thus, with her modest baggage, she entered the home of Mrs. Rhinehart, and ascended to a tiny room on the fourth floor, in which werea cot and a washstand, a cracked mirror, one chair, and one window. Mrs. Rhinehart had planned that the waitress should room with the cook, but thegirl had insisted that she must have a room alone, no matter how small, and they had compromised on this unused, ill-furnished spot. 

As she took off the felt hat, she wondered what its owner would think ifhe could see her now, and she brushed a fleck of dust gently from thefelt, as if in apology for its humble surroundings. Then she smoothed herhair, put on the apron Mrs. Hart had given her, and descended to her newduties as maid in a fashionable home. 

[Illustration]

VII

Three days later Tryon Dunham entered the office of Judge Blackwell byappointment. After the business was completed the Judge said with a smile, "Well, our mystery is solved. The little girl is all safe. She telephonedme just after you had left the other day, and sent her maid after her hat. It seems that while she stood by the window, looking down into the street, she saw an automobile containing some of her friends. It stopped at thenext building. Being desirous of speaking with a girl friend who wasseated in the auto, she hurried out to the elevator, hoping to catch them. The elevator boy who took her down-stairs went off duty immediately, whichaccounts for our not finding any trace of her, and he was kept at home byillness the next morning. The young woman caught her friends, and theyinsisted that she should get in and ride to the station with one of themwho was leaving the city at once. They loaned her a veil and a wrap, andpromised to bring her right back for her papers and other possessions, butthe train was late, and when they returned the building was closed. Thetwo men who called for her were her brother and a friend of his, it seems. I must say they were not so attractive as she is. However, the mystery issolved, and I got well laughed at by my wife for my fears. "

But the young man was puzzling how this all could be if the hat belongedto the girl he knew--to "Mary. " When he left the Judge's office, he wentto his club, determined to have a little quiet for thinking it over. 

Matters at home had not been going pleasantly. There had been an ominouscloud over the breakfast table. The bill for the hat had arrived fromMadame Dollard's, and Cornelia had laid it impressively by his plate. Evenhis mother had looked at him with a glance that spoke volumes as sheremarked that it would be necessary for her to have a new rain-coat beforeanother storm came. 

There had been a distinct coolness between Tryon Dunham and his motherand sister ever since the morning when the loss of the hat and rain-coatwas announced. Or did it date from the evening of that day when bothmother and sister had noticed the beautiful ring which he wore? They hadexclaimed over the flash of the diamond, and its peculiar pureness andbrilliancy, and Cornelia had been quite disagreeable when he refused totake it off for her to examine. He had replied to his mother's question bysaying that the ring belonged to a friend of his. He knew his mother washurt by the answer, but what more could he do at present? True, he mighthave taken the ring off and prevented further comment, but it had come tohim to mean loyalty to and belief in the girl whom he had so strangelybeen permitted to help. It was therefore in deep perplexity that he betookhimself to his club and sat down in a far corner to meditate. He wasannoyed when the office-boy appeared to tell him, there were some packagesawaiting him in the office. "Bring them to me here, Henry. "

The boy hustled away, and soon came back, bearing two hat-boxes--one ofthem in a crate--and the heavy leather suit-case. 

With a start of surprise, Dunham sat up in his comfortable chair. 

"Say, Henry, those things ought not to come in here. " He glanced anxiouslyabout, and was relieved to find that there was only one old gentleman inthe room, and that he was asleep. "Suppose we go up to a private room withthem. Take them out to the elevator, and I'll come in a moment. "

"All right, sah. "

"And say, Henry, suppose you remove that crate from the box. Then it won'tbe so heavy to carry. "

"All right, sah. I'll be thah in jest a minute. "

The young man hurried out to the elevator, and he and Henry made a quickascent to a private room. He gave the boy a round fee, and was left inquiet to examine his property. 

As he fumbled with the strings of the first box his heart beat wildly, andhe felt the blood mounting to his face. Was he about to solve the mysterywhich had surrounded the girl in whom his interest had now grown so deepthat he could scarcely get her out of his mind for a few minutes at atime?

But the box was empty, save for some crumpled white tissue-paper. He tookup the cover in perplexity and saw his own name written by himself. Thenhe remembered. This was the box he had sent down to the club by thecabman, to get it out of his way. He felt disappointed, and turned quicklyto the other box and cut the cord. This time he was rewarded by seeing thegreat black hat, beautiful and unhurt in spite of its journey to Chicago. The day was saved, and also the reputation of his mother's maid. But wasthere no word from the beautiful stranger? He searched hurriedly throughthe wrappings, pulled out the hat quite unceremoniously, and turned thebox upside down, but nothing else could he find. Then he went at thesuit-case. Yes, there was the rain-coat. He took it out triumphantly, fornow his mother could say nothing, and, moreover, was not his trust in thefair stranger justified? He had done well to believe in her. He began totake out the other garments, curious to see what had been there for heruse. 

A long, golden brown hair nestling on the collar of the bathrobe gleamedin a chance ray of sunlight. He looked at it reverently, and laid thegarment down carefully, that it might not be disturbed. As he lifted thecoat, he saw the little note pinned to the lapel, and seized it eagerly. Surely this would tell him something!

But no, there was only the message that she had arrived safely, and herthanks. Stay, she had signed her name "Mary. " She had told him he mightcall her that. Could it be that it was her real name, and that she hadmeant to trust him with so much of her true story?

He pondered the delicate writing of the note, thinking how like her itseemed, then he put the note in an inner pocket and thoughtfully liftedout the evening clothes. It was then that he touched the silken linedcloth of her dress, and he drew back almost as if he had ventured roughlyupon something sacred. Startled, awed, he looked upon it, and then withgentle fingers lifted it and laid it upon his knee. Her dress! The one shehad worn to the dinner with him! What did it all mean? Why was it here, and where was she?

He spread it out across his lap and looked at it almost as if it hid herpresence. He touched with curious, wistful fingers the lace and delicategarniture about the waist, as if he would appeal to it to tell the storyof her who had worn it. 

What did its presence here mean? Did it bear some message? He searchedcarefully, but found nothing further. Had she reached a place of safetywhere she did not need the dress? No, for in that case, why should shehave sent it to him? Had she been desperate perhaps, and----? But no, hewould not think such things of her. 

Gradually, as he looked, the gown told its own story, as she had thoughtit would: how she had been obliged to put on a disguise, and this was theonly way to hide her own dress. Gradually he came to feel a great pleasurein the fact that she had trusted him with it. She had known he wouldunderstand, and perhaps had not had time to make further explanation. Butif she had need of a disguise, she was still in danger! Oh, why had shenot given him some clue? He dropped his head upon his hand in troubledperplexity. 

A faint perfume of violets stole upon his senses from the dress lyingacross his knee. He touched it tenderly, and then half shamefacedly laidhis cheek against it, breathing in the perfume. But he put it downquickly, looking quite foolish, and reminded himself that the girl wasstill a stranger, and that she might belong to another. 

Then he thought again of the story the Judge had told him, and of his ownfirst conviction that the two young women were identical. Could that be?Why could he not discover who the other girl was, and get some one tointroduce him? He resolved to interview the Judge about it at their nextmeeting. In the meantime, he must wait and hope for further word fromMary. Surely she would write him again, and claim her ring perhaps, and, as she had been so thoughtful about returning the hat and coat at once, she would probably return the money he had loaned her. At least, he wouldhear from her in that way. There was nothing to do but be patient. 

Yes, there was the immediate problem of how he should restore his sister'shat and his mother's coat to their places, unsuspected. 

With a sigh, he carefully folded up the cloth gown, wrapped it in folds oftissue paper from the empty hat-box, and placed it in his suit-case. Thenhe transferred the hat to its original box, rang the bell, and ordered theboy to care for the box and suit-case until he called for them. 

During the afternoon he took occasion to run into the Judge's office aboutsome unimportant detail of the business they were transacting, and as hewas leaving he said:

"By the way, Judge, who was your young woman who gave you such a fright byher sudden disappearance? You never told me her name. Is she one of myacquaintances, I wonder?"

"Oh, her name is Mary Weston, " said the Judge, smiling. "I don't believeyou know her, for she was from California, and was visiting here only fora few days. She sailed for Europe the next day. "

That closed the incident, and, so far as the mystery was concerned, onlyadded perplexity to it. 

Dunham purposely remained down-town, merely having a clerk telephone homefor him that he had gone out of the city and would not be home until late, so they need not wait up. He did this because he did not wish to have hismother or his sister ask him any more questions about the missing hat andcoat. Then he took a twenty-mile trolley ride into the suburbs and back, to make good his word that he had gone out of town; and all the way hekept turning over and over the mystery of the beautiful young woman, untilit began to seem to him that he had been crazy to let her drift out intothe world alone and practically penniless. The dress had told its tale. Hesaw, of course, that if she were afraid of detection, she must have foundit necessary to buy other clothing, and how could she have bought it withonly nine dollars and seventy-five cents? He now felt convinced that heshould have found some way to cash a check and thus supply her with whatshe needed. It was terrible. True, she had those other beautiful rings, which were probably valuable, but would she dare to sell them? Perhaps, though, she had found some one else as ready as he had been to help her. But, to his surprise, that thought was distasteful to him. During hislong, cold ride in solitude he discovered that the thing he wanted most inlife was to find that girl again and take care of her. 

Of course he reasoned with himself most earnestly from one end of thetrolley line to the other, and called himself all kinds of a fool, but itdid not the slightest particle of good. Underneath all the reasoning, heknew he was glad that he had found her once, and he determined to find heragain, and to unravel the mystery. Then he sat looking long and earnestlyinto the depths of the beautiful white stone she had given to him, as ifhe might there read the way to find her. 

A little after midnight he arrived at the club-house, secured hissuit-case and the hat-box, and took a cab to his home. He left the vehicleat the corner, lest the sound of it waken his mother or sister. 

He let himself silently into the house with his latch-key, and tiptoed upto his room. The light was burning low. He put the hat-box in the farthestcorner of his closet, then he took out the rain-coat, and, slipping offhis shoes, went softly down to the hall closet. 

In utter darkness he felt around and finally hung the coat on a hook underanother long cloak, then gently released the hanging loop and let thegarment slip softly down in an inconspicuous heap on the floor. He stoleupstairs as guiltily as if he had been a naughty boy stealing sugar. Whenhe reached his room, he turned up his light, and, pulling out the hat-box, surveyed it thoughtfully. This was a problem which he had not yet beenable to solve. How should he dispose of the hat so that it would bediscovered in such a way as to cast no further suspicion upon the maid?How would it do to place the hat in the hall-closet, back among the coats?No, it might excite suspicion to find them together. Could he put it inhis own closet and profess to have found it there? No, for that might leadto unpleasant questioning, and perhaps involve the servants again. If hecould only put it back where he had found it! But Cornelia, of course, would know it had not been there in her room all this week. It would bebetter to wait until the coast was clear and hide it in Cornelia's closet, where it might have been put by mistake and forgotten. It was going to behard to explain, but that was the best plan he could evolve. 

He took the hat out and held it on his hand, looking at it from differentangles and trying to remember just how the girl had looked out at him fromunder its drooping plumes. Then with a sigh he laid it carefully in itsbox again and went to bed. 

The morning brought clearer thought, and when the summons to breakfastpealed through the hall he took the box boldly in his hand and descendedto the dining-room, where he presented the hat to his astonished sister. 

"I am afraid I am the criminal, Cornelia, " he said in his pleasantestmanner. "I'm sorry I can't explain just how this thing got on mycloset-shelf. I must have put it there myself through some unaccountablemix-up. It's too bad I couldn't have found it before and so saved you alot of worry. But you are one hat the richer for it, for I paid the billyesterday. Please accept it with my compliments. "

Cornelia exclaimed with delight over the recovered hat. 

"But how in the world could it have got into your closet, Tryon? It wasimpossible. I left it my room, I know I did, for I spoke to Norah about itbefore I left. How do you account for it?"

"Oh, I don't attempt to account for it, " he said, with a gay wave of hishand. "I've been so taken up with other things this past week, I may havedone almost anything. By the way, Mother, I'm sure you'll be glad to hearthat Judge Blackwell has made me a most generous offer of businessrelations, and that I have decided to accept it. "

Amid the exclamations of delight over this bit of news, the hat wasforgotten for a time, and when the mother and sister finally reverted toit and began to discuss how it could have gotten on the closet shelf, hebroke in upon their questions with a suggestion. 

"I should advise, Mother, that you make a thorough search for yourrain-coat. I am sure now that you must have overlooked it. Such thingsoften happen. We were so excited the morning Cornelia missed the hat thatI suppose no one looked thoroughly. "

"But that is impossible, Tryon, " said his mother, with dignity. "I hadthat closet searched most carefully. "

"Nevertheless, Mother, please me by looking again. That closet is dark, and I would suggest a light. "

"Of course, if you wish it, " said his mother stiffly. "You might look, yourself. "

"I'm afraid I shall not have time this morning, " professed the coward. "But suppose you look in your own closets, too, Mother. I'm sure you'llfind it somewhere. It couldn't get out of the house of itself, and Norahis no thief. The idea is preposterous. Please have it attended tocarefully to-day. Good-by. I shall have to hurry down-town, and I can'ttell just what time I shall get back this evening. 'Phone me if you findthe coat anywhere. If you don't find it, I'll buy you another thisafternoon. "

"I shall _not_ find the rain-coat, " said his mother sternly, "but ofcourse I will look to satisfy you. I _know_ it is not in this house. "

He beat a hasty retreat, for he did not care to be present at the findingof the rain-coat. 

"There is something strange about this, " said Mrs. Dunham, as with ruffleddignity she emerged from the hall closet, holding her lost rain-coat atarm's length. "You don't suppose your brother could be playing some kindof a joke on us, do you, Cornie? I never did understand jokes. "

"Of course not, " said practical Cornelia, with a sniff. "It's my opinionthat Norah knows all about the matter, and Tryon has been helping her outwith a few suggestions. "

"Now, Cornelia, what do you mean by that? You surely don't suppose yourbrother would try to deceive us--his mother and sister?"

"I didn't say that, Mother, " answered Cornelia, with her head in the air. "You've got your rain-coat back, but you'd better watch the rest of yourwardrobe. I don't intend to let Norah have free range in my room anymore. "

[Illustration]

VIII

Meantime, the girl in Chicago was walking in a new and hard way. Shebrought to her task a disciplined mind, a fine artistic taste, a delicatebut healthy body, and a pair of willing, if unskilled, hands. To hersurprise, she discovered that the work for which she had so often lightlygiven orders was beyond her strength. Try as she would, she could notaccomplish the task of washing and ironing table napkins and delicateembroidered linen pieces in the way she knew they should be done. Willpower can accomplish a good deal, but it cannot always make up forignorance, and the girl who had mastered difficult subjects in college, and astonished music masters in the old world with her talent, found thatshe could not wash a window even to her own satisfaction, much less tothat of her new mistress. That these tasks were expected of her was asurprise. Yet with her ready adaptability and her strong good sense, shesaw that if she was to be a success in this new field she had chosen, shemust be ready for any emergency. Nevertheless, as the weary days succeededeach other into weeks, she found that while her skill in table-setting andwaiting was much prized, it was more than offset by her discrepancies inother lines, and so it came about that with mutual consent she and Mrs. Rhinehart parted company. 

This time, with her reference, she did not find it so hard to get anotherplace, and, after trying several, she learned to demand certain things, which put her finally into a home where her ability was appreciated, andwhere she was not required to do things in which she was unskilled. 

She was growing more secure in her new life now, and less afraid toventure into the streets lest some one should be on the watch for her. Butnight after night, as she climbed to her cheerless room and crept to herscantily-covered, uncomfortable couch, she shrank from all that life couldnow hold out to her. Imprisoned she was, to a narrow round of toil, withno escape, and no one to know or care. 

And who knew but that any day an enemy might trace her?

Then the son of the house came home from college in disgrace, and began tomake violent love to her, until her case seemed almost desperate. Shedreaded inexpressibly to make another change, for in some ways her workwas not so hard as it had been in other places, and her wages were better;but from day to day she felt she could scarcely bear the hourlyannoyances. The other servants, too, were not only utterlyuncompanionable, but deeply jealous of her, resenting her gentle breeding, her careful speech, her dainty personal ways, her room to herself, herloyalty to her mistress. 

Sometimes in the cold and darkness of the night-vigils she would rememberthe man who had helped her, who had promised to be her friend, and hadbegged her to let him know if she ever needed help. Her hungry heart criedout for sympathy and counsel. In her dreams she saw him coming to heracross interminable plains, hastening with his kindly sympathy, but shealways awoke before he reached her. 

[Illustration]

IX

It was about this time that the firm of Blackwell, Hanover & Dunham had adifficult case to work out which involved the gathering of evidence fromChicago and thereabouts, and it was with pleasure that Judge Blackwellaccepted the eager proposal from the junior member of the firm that heshould go out and attend to it. 

As Tryon Dunham entered the sleeper, and placed his suit-case beside himon the seat, he was reminded of the night when he had taken this trainwith the girl who had come to occupy a great part of his thoughts in thesedays. He had begun to feel that if he could ever hope to shake off hisanxiety and get back to his normal state of mind, he must find her andunravel the mystery about her. If she were safe and had friends, so thathe was not needed, perhaps he would be able to put her out of histhoughts, but if she were not safe----He did not quite finish thesentence even in his thoughts, but his heart beat quicker always, and heknew that if she needed him he was ready to help her, even at thesacrifice of his life. 

All during the journey he planned a campaign for finding her, until hecame to know in his heart that this was the real mission for which he hadcome to Chicago, although he intended to perform the other businessthoroughly and conscientiously. 

Upon his arrival in Chicago, he inserted a number of advertisements in thedaily papers, having laid various plans by which she might safelycommunicate with him without running the risk of detection by her enemy. 

 If M. R. Is in Chicago, will she kindly communicate with T. Dunham, General Delivery? Important. 

 Mrs. Bowman's friend has something of importance to say to the lady who dined with her October 8th. Kindly send address to T. D. , Box 7 _Inter-Ocean_ office. 

 "Mary, " let me know where and when I can speak with you about a matter of importance. Tryon D. , _Record-Herald_ L. 

These and others appeared in the different papers, but when he began toget communications from all sorts of poor creatures, every one demandingmoney, and when he found himself running wild-goose chases after differentMarys and M. R. S, he abandoned all hope of personal columns in thenewspapers. Then he began a systematic search for music teachers andmusicians, for it seemed to him that this would be her natural way ofearning her living, if she were so hard pressed that this was necessary. 

In the course of his experiments he came upon many objects of pity, andhis heart was stirred with the sorrow and the misery of the human race asit had never been stirred in all his happy, well-groomed life. Many a poorsoul was helped and strengthened and put into the way of doing betterbecause of this brief contact with him. But always as he saw new miserieshe was troubled over what might have become of her--"Mary. " It came topass that whenever he looked upon the face of a young woman, no matter howpinched and worn with poverty, he dreaded lest _she_ might have come tothis pass, and be in actual need. As these thoughts went on day by day, hecame to feel that she was his by a God-given right, his to find, his tocare for. If she was in peril, he must save her. If she had donewrong--but this he could never believe. Her face was too pure and lovelyfor that. So the burden of her weighed upon his heart all the days whilehe went about the difficult business of gathering evidence link by link inthe important law case that had brought him to Chicago. 

Dunham had set apart working hours, and he seemed to labor with doublevigor then because of the other task he had set himself. When at last hefinished the legal business he had come for, and might go home, helingered yet a day, and then another, devoting himself with almostfeverish activity to the search for his unknown friend. 

It was the evening of the third day after his law work was finished thatwith a sad heart he went toward the hotel where he had been stopping. Hewas obliged at last to face the fact that his search had been in vain. 

He had almost reached the hotel when he met a business acquaintance, whowelcomed him warmly, for far and wide among legal men the firm of whichJudge Blackwell was the senior member commanded respect. 

"Well, well!" said the older man. "Is this you, Dunham? I thought you werebooked for home two days ago. Suppose you come home to dinner with me. I've a matter I'd like to talk over with you before you leave. I shallcount this a most fortunate meeting if you will. "

Just because he caught at any straw to keep him longer in Chicago, Dunhamaccepted the invitation. Just as the cab door was flung open in front ofthe handsome house where he was to be a guest, two men passed slowly by, like shadows out of place, and there floated to his ears one sentencevoiced in broadest Irish: "She goes by th' name of Mary, ye says? Allroight, sorr. I'll keep a sharp lookout. "

Tryon Dunham turned and caught a glimpse of silver changing hands. One manwas slight and fashionably dressed, and the light that was cast from theneighboring window showed his face to be dark and handsome. The other wasshort and stout, and clad in a faded Prince Albert coat that bagged atshoulders and elbows. He wore rubbers over his shoes, and his footstepssounded like those of a heavy dog. The two passed around the corner, andDunham and his host entered the house. 

They were presently seated at a well appointed table, where an elaboratedinner was served. The talk was of pleasant things that go to make up theworld of refinement; but the mind of the guest was troubled, andconstantly kept hearing that sentence, "She goes by the name of Mary. "

Then, suddenly, he looked up and met her eyes!

She was standing just back of her mistress's chair, with quiet, watchfulattitude, but her eyes had been unconsciously upon the guest, until helooked up and caught her glance. 

She turned away, but the color rose in her cheeks, and she knew that hewas watching her. 

Her look had startled him. He had never thought of looking for her in amenial position, and at first he had noticed only the likeness to her forwhom he was searching. But he watched her furtively, until he became moreand more startled with the resemblance. 

She did not look at him again, but he noticed that her cheeks werescarlet, and that the long lashes drooped as if she were trying to hideher eyes. She went now and again from the room on her silent, defterrands, bringing and taking dishes, filling the glasses with ice water, seeming to know at a glance just what was needed. Whenever she went fromthe room he tried to persuade himself that it was not she, and then becamefeverishly impatient for her return that he might anew convince himselfthat it _was_. He felt a helpless rage at the son of the house for thefamiliar way in which he said: "Mary, fill my glass, " and could not keepfrom frowning. Then he was startled at the similarity of names. Mary! Themen on the street had used the name, too! Could it be that her enemy hadtracked her? Perhaps he, Dunham, had appeared just in time to help her!

His busy brain scarcely heard the questions with which his host was plyinghim, and his replies were distraught and monosyllabic. At last he broke inupon the conversation:

"Excuse me, but I wonder if I may interrupt you for a moment. I havethought of something that I ought to attend to at once. I wonder if thewaitress would be kind enough to send a 'phone message for me. I am afraidit will be too late if I wait. "

"Why, certainly, " said the host, all anxiety. "Would you like to go to the'phone yourself, or can I attend to it for you? Just feel perfectly athome. "

Already the young man was hastily writing a line or two on a card he hadtaken from his pocket, and he handed it to the waitress, who at hisquestion had moved silently behind his chair to do his bidding. 

"Just call up that number, please, and give the message below. They willunderstand, and then you will write down their answer?"

He handed her the pencil and turned again to his dessert, saying with arelieved air:

"Thank you. I am sorry for the interruption. Now will you finish thatstory?" Apparently his entire attention was devoted to his host and hisice, but in reality he was listening to the click of the telephone and thelow, gentle voice in an adjoining room. It came after only a moment'spause, and he wondered at the calmness with which the usual formula of thetelephone was carried on. He could not hear what she said, but his earswere alert to the pause, just long enough for a few words to be written, and then to her footsteps coming quietly back. 

His heart was beating wildly. It seemed to him that his host must see thestrained look in his face, but he tried to fasten his interest upon theconversation and keep calm. 

He had applied the test. There was no number upon the card, and he knewthat if the girl were not the one of whom he was in search, she wouldreturn for an explanation. 

 If you are "Mary Remington, " tell me where and when I can talk with you. Immediately important to us both!

This was what he had written on the card. His fingers trembled as he tookit from the silver tray which she presented to him demurely. He picked itup and eagerly read the delicate writing--hers--the same that hadexpressed her thanks and told of her safe arrival in Chicago. He couldscarcely refrain from leaping from his chair and shouting aloud in hisgladness. 

The message she had written was simple. No stranger reading it would havethought twice about it. If the guest had read it aloud, it would havearoused no suspicion. 

 Y. W. C. A. Building, small parlor, three to-morrow. 

He knew the massive building, for he had passed it many times, but neverhad he supposed it could have any interest for him. Now suddenly his heartwarmed to the great organization of Christian women who had establishedthese havens for homeless ones in the heart of the great cities. 

He looked up at the girl as she was passing the coffee on the other sideof the table, but not a flicker of an eyelash showed she recognized him. She went through her duties and withdrew from the room, but though theylingered long over the coffee, she did not return. When they went intothe other room, his interest in the family grew less and less. Thedaughter of the house sat down at the piano, after leading him up to askher to sing, and chirped through several sentimental songs, tinkling out ashallow accompaniment with her plump, manicured fingers. His soul revoltedat the thought that she should be here entertaining the company, whilethat other one whose music would have thrilled them all stayed humbly inthe kitchen, doing some menial task. 

He took his leave early in the evening and hurried back to his hotel. Ashe crossed the street to hail a cab, he thought he saw a short, baggyfigure shambling along in the shadow on the other side, looking up at thehouse. 

He had professed to have business to attend to, but when he reached hisroom he could do nothing but sit down and think. That he had found her forwhom he had so long sought filled him with a deeper joy than any he hadever known before. That he had found her in such a position deepened themystery and filled him with a nameless dread. Then out of the shadow ofhis thoughts shambled the baggy man in the rubbers, and he could not rest, but took his hat and walked out again into the great rumbling whirl of thecity night, walking on and on, until he again reached the house where hehad dined. 

He passed in front of the building, and found lights still burningeverywhere. Down the side street, he saw the windows were brightly lightedin the servants' quarters, and loud laughter was sounding. Was she inthere enduring such company? No, for there high in the fourth storygleamed a little light, and a shadow moved about across the curtain. Something told him that it was her room. He paced back and forth until thelight went out, and then reverently, with lifted hat, turned and found hisway back to the main avenue and a car line. As he passed the area gate abright light shot out from the back door, there was a peal of laughter, anIrish goodnight, and a short man in baggy coat and rubbers shambled outand scuttled noiselessly down to the back street. 

[Illustration]

X

Dunham slept very little that night. His soul was hovering between joy andanxiety. Almost he was inclined to find some way to send her word aboutthe man he had seen lingering about the place, and yet perhaps it wasfoolish. He had doubtless been to call on the cook, and there might be noconnection whatever between what Dunham had heard and seen and the lonelygirl. 

Next day, with careful hands, the girl made herself neat and trim with thefew materials she had at hand. Her own fine garments that had laincarefully wrapped and hidden ever since she had gone into service werebrought forth, and the coarse ones with which she had provided herselfagainst suspicion were laid aside. If any one came into her room while shewas gone, he would find no fine French embroidery to tell tales. Also, shewished to feel as much like herself as possible, and she never could feelquite that in her cheap outfit. True, she had no finer outer garmentsthan a cheap black flannel skirt and coat which she had bought with thefirst money she could spare, but they were warm, and answered for what shehad needed. She had not bought a hat, and had nothing now to wear upon herhead but the black felt that belonged to the man she was going to meet. She looked at herself pityingly in the tiny mirror, and wondered if theyoung man would understand and forgive? It was all she had, any way, andthere would be no time to go to the store and buy another before theappointed hour, for the family had brought unexpected company to a latelunch and kept her far beyond her hour for going out. 

She looked down dubiously at her shabby shoes, their delicate kid nowcracked and worn. Her hands were covered by a pair of cheap black silkgloves. It was the first time that she had noticed these things so keenly, but now it seemed to her most embarrassing to go thus to meet the man whohad helped her. 

She gathered her little hoard of money to take with her, and cast onelook back over the cheerless room, with a great longing to bid it farewellforever, and go back to the world where she belonged; yet she realizedthat it was a quiet refuge for her from the world that she must hereafterface. Then she closed her door, went down the stairs and out into thestreet, like any other servant on her afternoon out, walking away to meetwhatever crisis might arise. She had not dared to speculate much about thesubject of the coming interview. It was likely he wanted to inquire abouther comfort, and perhaps offer material aid. She would not accept it, ofcourse, but it would be a comfort to know that some one cared. She longedinexpressibly for this interview, just because he had been kind, andbecause he belonged to that world from which she had come. He would keepher secret. He had true eyes. She did not notice soft, padded feet thatcame wobbling down the street after her, and she only drew a littlefurther out toward the curbing when a blear-eyed, red face peered intohers as she stood waiting for the car. She did not notice the shabby manwho boarded the car after she was seated. 

Tryon Dunham stood in the great stone doorway, watching keenly the passingthrong. He saw the girl at once as she got out of the car, but he did notnotice the man in the baggy coat, who lumbered after her and watched withwondering scrutiny as Dunham came forward, lifted his hat, and took herhand respectfully. Here was an element he did not understand. He stoodstaring, puzzled, as they disappeared into the great building; thenplanted himself in a convenient place to watch until his charge shouldcome out again. This was perhaps a gentleman who had come to engage her towork for him. She might be thinking of changing her place. He must be onthe alert. 

Dunham placed two chairs in the far corner of the inner parlor, where theywere practically alone, save for an occasional passer through the hall. Heput the girl into the most comfortable one, and then went to draw down theshade, to shut a sharp ray of afternoon sunlight from her eyes. She satthere and looked down upon her shabby shoes, her cheap gloves, her coarsegarments, and honored him for the honor he was giving her in this attire. She had learned by sharp experience that such respect to one in herstation was not common. As he came back, he stood a moment looking downupon her. She saw his eye rest with recognition upon the hat she wore, andher pale cheeks turned pink. 

"I don't know what you will think of my keeping this, " she said shyly, putting her hand to the hat, "but it seemed really necessary at the time, and I haven't dared spend the money for a new one yet. I thought perhapsyou would forgive me, and let me pay you for it some time later. "

"Don't speak of it, " he broke in, in a low voice. "I am so glad you coulduse it at all. It would have been a comfort to me if I had known where itwas. I had not even missed it, because at this time of year I have verylittle use for it. It is my travelling hat. "

He looked at her again as though the sight of her was good to him, and hisgaze made her quite forget the words she had planned to say. 

"I am so glad I have found you!" he went on. "You have not been out of mythoughts since I left you that night on the train. I have blamed myselfover and over again for having gone then. I should have found some way tostand by you. I have not had one easy moment since I saw you last. "

His tone was so intense that she could not interrupt him; she could onlysit and listen in wonder, half trembling, to the low-spoken torrent offeeling that he expressed. She tried to protest, but the look in his facestopped her. He went on with an earnestness that would not be turned asidefrom its purpose. 

"I came to Chicago that I might search for you. I could not stand thesuspense any longer. I have been looking for you in every way I couldthink of, without openly searching, for that I dared not do lest I mightjeopardize your safety. I was almost in despair when I went to dine withMr. Phillips last evening. I felt I could not go home without knowing atleast that you were safe, and now that I have found you, I cannot leaveyou until I know at least that you have no further need for help. "

She summoned her courage now, and spoke in a voice full of feeling:

"Oh, you must not feel that way. You helped me just when I did not knowwhat to do, and put me in the way of helping myself. I shall never ceaseto thank you for your kindness to an utter stranger. And now I am doingvery well. " She tried to smile, but the tears came unbidden instead. 

"You poor child!" His tone was full of something deeper than compassion, and his eyes spoke volumes. "Do you suppose I think you are doing wellwhen I see you wearing the garb of a menial and working for people to whomyou are far superior--people who by all the rights of education andrefinement ought to be in the kitchen serving you?"

"It was the safest thing I could do, and really the only thing I could getto do at once, " she tried to explain. "I'm doing it better every day. "

"I have no doubt. You can be an artist at serving as well as anythingelse, if you try. But now that is all over. I am going to take care ofyou. There is no use in protesting. If I may not do it in one way, I willin another. There is one question I must ask first, and I hope you willtrust me enough to answer it. Is there any other--any other man who hasthe right to care for you, and is unable or unwilling to do it?"

She looked up at him, her large eyes still shining with tears, andshuddered slightly. 

"Oh, no!" she said. "Oh, no, I thank God there is not! My dear uncle hasbeen dead for four years, and there has never been any one else who caredsince Father died. "

He looked at her, a great light beginning to come into his face; but shedid not understand and turned her head to hide the tears. 

"Then I am going to tell you something, " he said, his tone growing lower, yet clear enough for her to hear every word distinctly. 

A tall, oldish girl with a discontented upper lip stalked through thehall, glanced in at the door, and sniffed significantly, but they did notsee her. A short, baggy-coated man outside hovered anxiously around thebuilding and passed the very window of that room, but the shade oppositethem was down, and they did not know. The low, pleasant voice went on:

"I have come to care a great deal for you since I first saw you, and Iwant you to give me the right to care for you always and protect youagainst the whole world. "

She looked up, wondering. 

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I love you, and I want to make you my wife. Then I can defythe whole world if need be, and put you where you ought to be. "

"Oh!" she breathed softly. 

"Wait, please, " he pleaded, laying his hand gently on her little, trembling one. "Don't say anything until I have finished. I know of coursethat this will be startling to you. You have been brought up to feel thatsuch things must be more carefully and deliberately done. I do not wantyou to feel that this is the only way I can help you, either. If you arenot willing to be my wife, I will find some other plan. But this is thebest way, if it isn't too hard on you, for I love you as I never dreamedthat I could love a woman. The only question is, whether you can put upwith me until I can teach you to love me a little. "

She lifted eloquent eyes to his face. 

"Oh, it is not that, " she stammered, a rosy light flooding cheek and brow. "It is not that at all. But you know nothing about me. If you knew, youwould very likely think as others do, and----"

"Then do not tell me anything about yourself, if it will trouble you. I donot care what others think. If you have poisoned a husband, I should knowthat he needed poisoning, and any way I should love you and stand by you. "

"I have not done anything wrong, " she said gravely. 

"Then if you have done nothing wrong, we will prove it to the world, or, if we cannot prove it, we will fly to some desert island and live there inpeace and love. That is the way I feel about you. I know that you are goodand true and lovely! Any one might as well try to prove to me that youwere crazy as that you had done wrong in any way. "

Her face grew strangely white. 

"Well, suppose I was crazy?"

"Then I would take you and cherish you and try to cure you, and if thatcould not be done, I should help you to bear it. "

"Oh, you are wonderful!" she breathed, the light of a great love growingin her eyes. 

The bare, prosaic walls stood stolidly about them, indifferent to romanceor tragedy that was being wrought out within its walls. The whirl and humof the city without, the grime and soil of the city within, were alikeforgotten by these two as their hearts throbbed in the harmony of a greatpassion. 

"Do you think you could learn to love me?" said the man's voice, with thesweetness of the love song of the ages in its tone. 

"I love you now, " said the girl's low voice. "I think I have loved youfrom the beginning, though I never dared to think of it in that way. Butit would not be right for me to become your wife when you know practicallynothing about me. "

"Have you forgotten that you know nothing of me?"

"Oh, I do know something about you, " she said shyly. "Remember that I havedined with your friends. I could not help seeing that they were goodpeople, especially that delightful old man, the Judge. He lookedstartlingly like my dear father. I saw how they all honored and loved you. And then what you have done for me, and the way that you treated anutterly defenceless stranger, were equal to years of mere acquaintance. Ifeel that I know a great deal about you. "

He smiled. "Thank you, " he said, "but I have not forgotten that somethingmore is due you than that slight knowledge of me, and before I came outhere I went to the pastor of the church of which my mother is a member, and which I have always attended and asked him to write me a letter. He isso widely known that I felt it would be an introduction for me. "

He laid an open letter in her lap, and, glancing down, she saw that it wassigned by the name of one of the best known pulpit orators in the land, and that it spoke in highest terms of the young man whom it named as "mywell-loved friend. "

"It is also your right to know that I have always tried to live a pure andhonorable life. I have never told any woman but you that I lovedher--except an elderly cousin with whom I thought I was in love when I wasnineteen. She cured me of it by laughing at me, and I have beenheart-whole ever since. "

She raised her eyes from reading the letter. 

"You have all these, and I have nothing. " She spread out her handshelplessly. "It must seem strange to you that I am in this situation. Itdoes to me. It is awful. "

She put her hands over her eyes and shuddered. 

"It is to save you from it all that I have come. " He leaned over and spoketenderly, "Darling!"

"Oh, wait!" She caught her breath as if it hurt her, and put out her handto stop him, "Wait! You must not say any more until I have told you allabout it. Perhaps when I have told you, you will think about me as othersdo, and I shall have to run from you. "

"Can you not trust me?" he reproached her. 

"Oh, yes, I can trust you, but you may no longer trust me, and that Icannot bear. "

"I promise you solemnly that I will believe every word you say. "

"Ah, but you will think I do not know, and that it is your duty to give meinto the hands of my enemies. "

"That I most solemnly vow I will never do, " he said earnestly. "You neednot fear to tell me anything. But listen, tell me this one thing: in theeyes of God, is there any reason, physical, mental, or spiritual, why youshould not become my wife?"

She looked him clearly in the eyes. 

"None at all. "

"Then I am satisfied to take you without hearing your story untilafterwards. "

"But I am not satisfied. If I am to see distrust come into your eyes, itmust be now, not afterwards. "

"Then tell it quickly. "

He put out his hand and took hers firmly into his own, as if to help herin her story. 

[Illustration]

XI

"My father died when I was only a young girl. We had not much money, andmy mother's older brother took us to his home to live. My mother was hisyoungest sister, and he loved her more than any one else living. There wasanother sister, a half-sister, much older than my mother, and she had oneson. He was a sulky, handsome boy, with a selfish, cruel nature. He seemedto be happy only when he was tormenting some one. He used to come toUncle's to visit when I was there, and he delighted in annoying me. Hestretched barbed wire where he knew I was going to pass in the dark, tothrow me down and tear my clothes. He threw a quantity of burrs in myhair, and once he led me into a hornet's nest. After we went to live at myuncle's, Richard was not there so much. He had displeased my uncle, and hesent him away to school; but at vacation times he came again, and kept thehouse in discomfort. He seemed always to have a special spite against me. Once he broke a rare Dresden vase that Uncle prized, and told him I haddone it. 

"Mother did not live long after Father died, and after she was gone, I hadno one to stand between me and Richard. Sometimes I had to tell my uncle, but oftener I tried to bear it, because I knew Richard was already a greatdistress to him. 

"At last Richard was expelled from college, and Uncle was so angry withhim that he told him he would do nothing more for him. He must go to work. Richard's father and mother had not much money, and there were otherchildren to support. Richard threatened me with all sorts of awful thingsif I did not coax Uncle to take him back into his good graces again. Itold him I would not say a word to Uncle. He was very angry and swore atme. When I tried to leave the room he locked the door and would not let mego until I screamed for help. Then he almost choked me, but when he heardUncle coming he jumped out of the window. The next day he forged a checkin my uncle's name, and tried to throw suspicion on me, but he wasdiscovered, and my uncle disinherited him. Uncle had intended to educateRichard and start him well in life, but now he would have nothing furtherto do with him. It seemed to work upon my uncle's health, all the disgraceto the family name, although no one ever thought of my uncle in connectionwith blame. As he paid Richard's debts, it was not known what the boy haddone, except by the banker, who was a personal friend. 

"We went abroad then, and everywhere Uncle amused himself by putting meunder the best music masters, and giving me all possible advantages inlanguages, literature, and art. Three years ago he died at Carlsbad, andafter his death I went back to my music studies, following his wishes inthe matter, and staying with a dear old lady in Vienna, who had been kindto us when we were there before. 

"As soon as my uncle's death was known at home, Richard wrote the mostpathetic letter to me, professing deep contrition, and saying he couldnever forgive himself for having quarrelled with his dear uncle. He had asad tale of how the business that he had started had failed and left himwith debts. If he had only a few hundred dollars, he could go on with itand pay off everything. He said I had inherited all that would have beenhis if he had done right, and he recognized the justice of it, but beggedthat I would lend him a small sum until he could get on his feet, when hewould repay me. 

"I had little faith in his reformation, but felt as if I could not refusehim when I was enjoying what might have been his, so I sent him all themoney I had at hand. As I was not yet of age, I could not control all theproperty, but my allowance was liberal. Richard continued to send mevoluminous letters, telling of his changed life, and finally asked me tomarry him. I declined emphatically, but he continued to write for money, always ending with a statement of his undying affection. In disgust, I atlast offered to send him a certain sum of money regularly if he would stopwriting to me on this subject, and finally succeeded in reducing ourcorrespondence to a check account. This has been going on for threeyears, except that he has been constantly asking for larger sums, andwhenever I would say that I could not spare more just then he would begintelling me how much he cared for me, and how hard it was for him to beseparated from me. I began to feel desperate about him, and made up mymind that when I received the inheritance I should ask the lawyers to makesome arrangement with him by which I should no longer be annoyed. 

"It was necessary for me to return to America when I came of age, in orderto sign certain papers and take full charge of the property. Richard knewthis. He seems to have had some way of finding out everything my uncledid. 

"He wrote telling me of a dear friend of his mother, who was soon to passthrough Vienna, and who by some misfortune had been deprived of a positionas companion and chaperon to a young girl who was travelling. He said ithad occurred to him that perhaps he could serve us both by suggesting tome that she be my travelling companion on the voyage. He knew I would notwant to travel alone, and he sent her address and all sorts ofcredentials, with a message from his mother that she would feel perfectlysafe about me if I went in this woman's guardianship. 

"I really did need a travelling companion, of course, having failed to getmy dear old lady to undertake the voyage, so I thought it could do noharm. I went to see her, and found her pretty and frail and sad. She madea piteous appeal to me, and though I was not greatly taken with her, Idecided she would do as well as any one for a companion. 

"She did not bother me during the voyage, but fluttered about and wasquite popular on board, especially with a tall, disagreeable man with acruel jaw and small eyes, who always made me feel as if he would gloatover any one in his power. I found out that he was a physician, aspecialist in mental diseases, so Mrs. Chambray told me, and she talked agreat deal about his skill and insight into such maladies. 

"At New York my cousin Richard met us and literally took possession of us. Without my knowledge, the cruel-looking doctor was included in the party. I did not discover it until we were on the train, bound, as I supposed, for my old home just beyond Buffalo. It was some time since I had been inNew York, and I naturally did not notice much which way we were going. Thefact was, every plan was anticipated, and I was told that all arrangementshad been made. Mrs. Chambray began to treat me like a little child andsay: 'You see we are going to take good care of you, dear, so don't worryabout a thing. '

"I had taken the drawing-room compartment, not so much because I had aheadache, as I told them, as because I wanted to get away from theirsociety. My cousin's marked devotion became painful to me. Then, too, theattentions and constant watchfulness of the disagreeable doctor becamemost distasteful. 

"We had been sitting on the observation platform, and it was late in theafternoon, when I said I was going to lie down, and the two men got up togo into the smoker. In spite of my protests, Mrs. Chambray insisted uponfollowing me in, to see that I was perfectly comfortable. She fussedaround me, covering me up and offering smelling salts and eau de colognefor my head. I let her fuss, thinking that was the quickest way to get ridof her. I closed my eyes, and she said she would go out to the observationplatform. I lay still for awhile, thinking about her and how much I wantedto get rid of her. She acted as if she had been engaged to stay with meforever, and it suddenly became very plain to me that I ought to have atalk with her and tell her that I should need her services no longer afterthis journey was over. It might make a difference to her if she knew it atonce, and perhaps now would be as good a time to talk as any, for she wasprobably alone out on the platform. I got up and made a few little changesin my dress, for it would soon be time to go into the dining-car. Then Iwent out to the observation platform, but she was not there. The chairswere all empty, so I chose the one next to the railing, away from the cardoor, and sat down to wait for her, thinking she would soon be back. 

"We were going very fast, through a pretty bit of country. It was duskyand restful out there, so I leaned back and closed my eyes. Presently Iheard voices approaching, above the rumble of the train, and, peepingaround the doorway, I saw Mrs. Chambray, Richard, and the doctor comingfrom the other car. I kept quiet, hoping they would not come out, and theydid not. They settled down near the door, and ordered the porter to put upa table for them to play cards. 

"The train began to slow down, and finally came to a halt for a longertime on a sidetrack, waiting for another train to pass. I heard Richardask where I was. Mrs. Chambray said laughingly that I was safely asleep. Then, before I realized it, they began to talk about me. It happened therewere no other passengers in the car. Richard asked Mrs. Chambray if shethought I had any suspicion that I was not on the right train, and shesaid, 'Not the slightest, ' and then by degrees there floated to me throughthe open door the most diabolical plot I had ever heard of. I gatheredfrom it that we were on the way to Philadelphia, would reach there in alittle while, and would then proceed to a place near Washington, where thedoctor had a private insane asylum, and where I was to be shut up. Theywere going to administer some drug that would make me unconscious when Iwas taken off the train. If they could not get me to take it for theheadache I had talked about, Mrs. Chambray was to manage to get it into myfood or give it to me when asleep. Mrs. Chambray, it seems, had not knownthe entire plot before leaving Europe, and this was their first chance oftelling her. They thought I was safely in my compartment, asleep, and shehad gone into the other car to give the signal as soon as she thought shehad me where I would not get up again for a while. 

"They had arranged every detail. Richard had been using as models theletters I had written him for the last three years, and had constructed aset of love letters from me to him, in perfect imitation of myhandwriting. They compared the letters and read snatches of the sentencesaloud. The letters referred constantly to our being married as soon as Ishould return from abroad, and some of them spoke of the money asbelonging to us both, and that now it would come to its own without anyfurther trouble. 

"They even exhibited a marriage certificate, which, from what they said, must have been made out with our names, and Mrs. Chambray and the doctorsigned their names as witnesses. As nearly as I could make out, they weregoing to use this as evidence that Richard was my husband, and that he hadthe right to administer my estate during the time that I was incapable. They had even arranged that a young woman who was hopelessly insane shouldtake my place when the executors of the estate came to see me, if theytook the trouble to do that. As it was some years since either of them hadseen me, they could easily have been deceived. And for their help Mrs. Chambray and the doctor were to receive a handsome sum. 

"I could scarcely believe my ears at first. It seemed to me that I must bemistaken, that they could not be talking about me. But my name wasmentioned again and again, and as each link in the horrible plot was madeplain to me, my terror grew so great that I was on the verge of rushinginto the car and calling for the conductor and porter to help me. Butsomething held me still, and I heard Richard say that he had just informedthe trainmen that I was insane, and that they need not be surprised if Ihad to be restrained. He had told them that I was comparatively harmless, but he had no doubt that the conductor had whispered it to ourfellow-passengers in the car, which explained their prolonged absence inthe smoker. Then they all laughed, and it seemed to me that the cover tothe bottomless pit was open and that I was falling in. 

"I sat still, hardly daring to breathe. Then I began to go over the storybit by bit, and to put together little things that had happened since welanded, and even before I had left Vienna; and I saw that I was caught ina trap. It would be no use to appeal to any one, for no one would believeme. I looked wildly out at the ground and had desperate thoughts ofclimbing over the rail and jumping from the train. Death would be betterthan what I should soon have to face. My persecutors had even told howthey had deceived my friends at home by sending telegrams of my mentalcondition, and of the necessity for putting me into an asylum. There wouldbe no hope of appealing to them for help. The only witnesses to my sanitywere far away in Vienna, and how could I reach them if I were in Richard'spower?

"I watched the names of the stations as they flew by, but it graduallygrew dark, and I could hardly make them out. I thought one looked like thename of a Philadelphia suburb, but I could not be sure. 

"I was freezing with horror and with cold, but did not dare to move, lestI attract their attention. 

"We began to rush past rows of houses, and I knew we were approaching acity. Then, suddenly, the train slowed down and stopped, with very littlewarning, as if it intended to halt only a second and then hurry on. 

"There was a platform on one side of the train, but we were out beyond thecar-shed, for our train was long. I could not climb over the rail to theplatform, for I was sitting on the side away from the station, and wouldhave had to pass the car door in order to do so. I should be sure to beseen. 

"On the other side were a great many tracks separated by strong picketfences as high as the car platform and close to the trains, and theyreached as far as I could see in either direction. I had no time to think, and there was nothing I could do but climb over the rail and get acrossthose tracks and fences somehow. 

"My hands were so cold and trembling that I could scarcely hold on to therail as I jumped over. 

"I cannot remember how I got across. Twice I had to cling to a fence whilean express train rushed by, and the shock and noise almost stunned me. Itwas a miracle that I was not killed, but I did not think of that untilafterwards. I was conscious only of the train I had left standing by thestation. I glanced back once, and thought I saw Richard come to the doorof the car. Then I stumbled on blindly. I don't remember any more until Ifound myself hurrying along that dark passage under the bridge and saw youjust ahead. I was afraid to speak to you, but I did not know what else todo, and you were so good to me----!" Her voice broke in a little sob. 

All the time she had been talking, he had held her hand firmly. She hadforgotten that any one might be watching; he did not care. 

The tall girl with the discontented upper lip went to the matron and toldher that she thought the man and the woman in the parlor ought to be madeto go. She believed the man was trying to coax the girl to do somethingshe didn't want to do. The matron started on a voyage of discovery up thehall and down again, with penetrating glances into the room, but the twodid not see her. 

"Oh, my poor dear little girl!" breathed the man. "And you have passedthrough all this awful experience alone! Why did you not tell me aboutit? I could have helped you. I am a lawyer. "

"I thought you would be on your guard at once and watch for evidences ofmy insanity. I thought perhaps you would believe it true, and would feelit necessary to return me to my friends. I think I should have beentempted to do that, perhaps, if any one had come to me with such a story. "

"One could not do that after seeing and talking with you. I never couldhave believed it. Surely no reputable physician would lend his influenceto put you in an asylum, yet I know such things have been done. Yourcousin must be a desperate character. I shall not feel safe until youbelong to me. I saw two men hanging about Mr. Phillips's house lastevening as I went in. They were looking up at the windows and talkingabout keeping a close watch on some one named Mary. One of the men wastall and slight and handsome, with dark hair and eyes; the other wasIrish, and wore a coat too large for him, and rubbers. I went back laterin the evening, and the Irishman was hovering about the house. "

The girl looked up with frightened eyes and grasped the arms of her chairexcitedly. 

"Will you go with me now to a church not far away, where a friend of mineis the pastor, and be married? Then we can defy all the cousins increation. Can't you trust me?" he pleaded. 

"Oh, yes, but----"

"Is it that you do not love me?"

"No, " she said, and her eyes drooped shyly. "It seems strange that I dareto say it to you when I have known you so little. " She lifted her eyes, full of a wonderful love light, and she was glorified to him, all meanlydressed though she was. The smooth Madonna braids around the shapely head, covered by the soft felt hat, seemed more beautiful to him than all theelaborate head-dresses of modern times. 

"Where is the 'but' then, dear? Shall we go now?"

"How can I go in this dress?" She looked down at her shabby shoes, roughblack gown, and cheap gloves in dismay, and a soft pink stole into herface. 

"You need not. Your own gown is out in the office in my suit-case. Ibrought it with me, thinking you might need it--_hoping_ you might, Imean;" and he smiled. "I have kept it always near me; partly because Iwanted the comfort of it, partly because I was afraid some one else mightfind it, and desecrate our secret with their common-place wondering. "

It was at this moment that the matron of the building stepped up to theabsorbed couple, resolved to do her duty. Her lips were pursed to theirthinnest, and displeasure was in her face. 

The young man arose and asked in a grave tone:

"Excuse me, but can you tell me whether this lady can get a room here torest for a short time, while I go out and attend to a matter of business?"

The matron noticed his refined face and true eyes, and she accepted with agood grace the ten-dollar bill he handed to her. 

"We charge only fifty cents a night for a room, " she said, glancing at thehumble garments of the man's companion. She thought the girl must be apoor dependent or a country relative. 

"That's all right, " said the young man. "Just let the change help the goodwork along. "

That made a distinct change in the atmosphere. The matron smiled, andretired to snub the girl with the discontented upper lip. Then she sentthe elevator boy to carry the girl's suit-case. As the matron came back tothe office, a baggy man with cushioned tires hustled out of the open doorinto the street, having first cast back a keen, furtive glance thatsearched every corner of the place. 

"Now, " said Dunham reassuringly, as the matron disappeared, "you can go upto your room and get ready, and I will look after a few little matters. Icalled on my friend, the minister, this morning, and I have looked up thelegal part of this affair. I can see that everything is all right in a fewminutes. Is there anything you would like me to do for you?"

"No, " she answered, looking up half frightened; "but I am afraid I oughtnot to let you do this. You scarcely know me. "

"Now, dear, no more of that. We have no time to lose. How long will ittake you to get dressed? Will half an hour do? It is getting late. "

"Oh, it will not take long. " She caught her breath with gladness. Hercompanion's voice was so strong and comforting, his face so filled with awonderful love, that she felt dazed with the sudden joy of it all. 

The elevator boy appeared in the doorway with the familiar suit-case. 

"Don't be afraid, dear heart, " whispered the young man, as he attended herto the elevator. "I'll soon be back again, and then, _then_, we shall betogether!"

It was a large front room to which the boy took her. The ten-dollar billhad proven effective. It was not a "fifty-cents-a-night" room. Someone--some guest or kindly patron--had put a small illuminated text uponthe wall in a neat frame. It met her eye as she entered--"Rejoice and beglad. " Just a common little picture card, it was, with a phrase that hasbecome trite to many, yet it seemed a message to her, and her heart leapedto obey. She went to the window to catch a glimpse of the man who wouldsoon be her husband, but he was not there, and the hurrying peoplereminded her that she must hasten. Across the street a slouching figure ina baggy coat looked fixedly up and caught her glance. She trembled anddrew back out of the sunshine, remembering what Dunham had told her aboutthe Irishman of the night before. With a quick instinct, she drew down theshade, and locked her door. 

[Illustration]

XII

The rubbered feet across the way hurried their owner into the cigar-storein front of which he had been standing, and where he had a good view ofthe Y. W. C. A. Building. He flung down some change and demanded the use ofthe telephone. Then, with one eye on the opposite doorway, he called up anumber and delivered his message. 

"Oi've treed me bird. She's in a room all roight at the Y. W. C. A. Place, fer I seed her at the winder. She come with a foine gintlemin, but he'sgahn now, an' she's loike to stay a spell. You'd best come at once.... Allroight. Hurry up!" He hung up the telephone-receiver and hurried back tohis post in front of the big entrance. Meanwhile the bride-elect upstairs, with happy heart and trembling fingers, was putting on her own beautifulgarments once more, and arranging the waves of lovely hair in their oldaccustomed way. 

Tryon Dunham's plans were well laid. He first called up his friend theminister and told him to be ready; then a florist not far from the church;then a large department store where he had spent some time that morning. "Is that Mr. Hunter, head of the fur department? Mr. Hunter, this is Mr. Dunham. You remember our conversation this morning? Kindly send the coatand hat I selected to the Y. W. C. A. Building at once. Yes, just send themto the office. You remember it was to be C. O. D. , and I showed you mycertified check this morning. It's all right, is it? How long will it takeyou to get it there?... All right. Have the boy wait if I'm not there. Good-by. "

His next move was to order a carriage, and have it stop at the florist'son the way. That done, he consulted his watch. Seventeen minutes of hisprecious half-hour were gone. With nervous haste he went into a telephonebooth and called up his own home on the long-distance. 

To his relief, his mother answered. 

"Is that you, Mother? This is Tryon. Are you all well? That's good. Yes, I'm in Chicago, but will soon be home. Mother, I've something to tell youthat may startle you, though there is nothing to make you sad. You haveknown that there was something on my mind for some time. " He paused forthe murmur of assent. 

He knew how his mother was looking, even though he could not see her--thatset look of being ready for anything. He wanted to spare her as much aspossible, so he hastened on:

"You remember speaking to me about the ring I wore?"

"Tryon! Are you engaged?" There was a sharp anxiety in the tone as it camethrough the hundreds of miles of space. 

"One better, Mother. I'm just about to be married!"

"My son! What have you done? Don't forget the honorable name you bear!"

"No, Mother, I don't forget. She's fine and beautiful and sweet. You willlove her, and our world will fall at her feet!"

"But who is she? You must remember that love is very blind. Tryon, youmust come home at once. I shall die if you disgrace us all. Don't doanything to spoil our lives. I know it is something dreadful, or you wouldnot do it in such haste. "

"Nothing of the kind, Mother. Can't you trust me? Let me explain. She isalone, and legal circumstances which it would take too long for me toexplain over the 'phone have made it desirable for her to have myimmediate protection. We are going at once to Edwin Twinell's church, andhe will marry us. It is all arranged, but I felt that you ought to be toldbeforehand. We shall probably take the night express for home. TellCornelia that I shall expect congratulations telegraphed to the hotel hereinside of two hours. "

"But, Tryon, what will our friends think? It is most extraordinary! Howcan you manage about announcements?"

"Bother the red tape, Mother! What difference does that make? Put it inthe society column if you want to. "

"But, Tryon, we do not want to be conspicuous!"

"Well, Mother, I'm not going to put off my wedding at the last minute fora matter of some bits of pasteboard. I'll do any reasonable thing toplease you, but not that. "

"Couldn't you get a chaperon for her, and bring her on to me? Then wecould plan the wedding at our leisure. "

"Impossible, Mother! In the first place, she never would consent. Really, I cannot talk any more about it. I must go at once, or I shall be late. Tell me you will love her for my sake, until you love her for her own. "

"Tryon, you always were unreasonable. Suppose you have the cards engravedat once, and I will telegraph our list to the engraver if you will give mehis address. If you prefer, you can get them engraved and sent out fromthere. That will keep tongues still. "

"All right, I'll do it. I'll have the engraver telegraph his address toyou within two hours. Have your list ready. And, Mother, don't worry. She's all right. You couldn't have chosen better yourself. Say you willlove her, Mother dear. "

"Oh, I suppose I'll try, " sighed the wires disconsolately; "but I neverthought you would be married in such a way. Why, you haven't even told mewho she is. "

"She's all right, Mother--good family and all. I really must hurry----"

"But what is her name, Tryon?"

"Say, Mother, I really must go. Ask Mrs. Parker Bowman what she thinks ofher. Good-by! Cheer up, it'll be all right. "

"But, Tryon, her name----"

The receiver was hung up with a click, and Dunham looked at his watchnervously. In two minutes his half-hour would be up, yet he must let JudgeBlackwell know. Perhaps he could still catch him at the office. Hesometimes stayed down-town late. Dunham rang up the office. The Judge wasstill there, and in a moment his cheery voice was heard ringing out, "Hello!"

"Hello, Judge! Is that you?... This is Dunham.... Chicago. Yes, thebusiness is all done, and I'm ready to come home, but I want to give you abit of news. Do you remember the young woman who dined with us at Mrs. Bowman's and played the piano so well?... Yes, the night I met you.... Well, you half guessed that night how it was with us, I think. And now sheis here, and we are to be married at once, before I return. I am justabout to go to the church, but I wanted your blessing first. "

"Blessings and congratulations on you both!" came in a hearty voice overthe phone. "Tell her she shall be at once taken into the firm as chiefconsultant on condition that she plays for me whenever I ask her. "

A great gladness entered the young man's heart as he again hung up thereceiver, at this glimpse into the bright vista of future possibilities. He hurried into the street, forgetful of engravers. The half-hour was upand one minute over. 

In the meantime, the girl had slipped into her own garments once more witha relief and joy she could scarcely believe were her own. Had it all beenan ugly dream, this life she had been living for the past few months, andwas she going back now to rest and peace and real life? Nay, not goingback, but going forward. The sweet color came into her beautiful face atthought of the one who, though not knowing her, yet had loved her enoughto take her as she was, and lift her out of her trouble. It was like themost romantic of fairy tales, this unexpected lover and the joy that hadcome to her. How had it happened to her quiet, conventional life? Ah, itwas good and dear, whatever it was! She pressed her happy eyes with herfluttering, nervous fingers, to keep the glad tears back, and laughed outto herself a joyful ripple such as she had not uttered since her uncle'sdeath. 

A knock at the door brought her back to realities again. Her heartthrobbed wildly. Had he come back to her already? Or had her enemy foundher out at last?

Tryon Dunham hurried up the steps of the Y. W. C. A. Building, nearlyknocking over a baggy individual in rubbers, who was lurking in theentrance. The young man had seen a boy in uniform, laden with two enormousboxes, run up the steps as he turned the last corner. Hastily writing afew lines on one of his cards and slipping it into the largest box, hesent them both up to the girl's room. Then he sauntered to the door to seeif the carriage had come. It was there. He glanced inside to see if hisorders about flowers had been fulfilled, and spoke a few words ofdirection to the driver. Turning back to the door, he found the small, redeyes of the baggy Irishman fixed upon him. Something in the slouch of thefigure reminded Dunham strongly now of the man he had noticed the nightbefore, and as he went back into the building he looked the man over welland determined to watch him. As he sat in the office waiting, twice he sawthe bleary eyes of the baggy man applied to the glass panes in the frontdoor and as suddenly withdrawn. It irritated him, and finally he strode tothe door and asked the man if he were looking for some one. 

"Just waitin' fer me sweetheart, " whined the man, with a cringingattitude. "She has a room in here, an' I saw her go in a while back. "

"Well, you'd better move on. They don't care to have people hanging aroundhere. "

The man slunk away with a vindictive glance, and Tryon Dunham went back tothe office, more perturbed at the little incident than he couldunderstand. 

Upstairs the girl had dared to open her door and had been relieved to findthe elevator boy there with the two boxes. 

"The gentleman's below, an' he says he'll wait, an' he sent these up, "said the boy, depositing his burden and hurrying away. 

She locked her door once more, for somehow a great fear had stolen overher now that she was again dressed in her own garments and could easily berecognized. 

She opened the large box and read the card lying on the top:

 These are my wedding gifts to you, dear. Put them on and come as soon as possible to the one who loves you better than anything else in life. 

 TRYON

Her eyes shone brightly and her cheeks grew rosy red as she lifted outfrom its tissue-paper wrappings a long, rich coat of Alaska seal, withexquisite brocade lining. She put it on and stood a moment looking atherself in the glass. She felt like one who had for a long time lost heridentity, and has suddenly had it restored. Such garments had beenordinary comforts of her former life. She had not been warm enough in thecoarse black coat. 

The other box contained a beautiful hat of fur to match the coat. It wassimply trimmed with one long, beautiful black plume, and in shape andgeneral appearance was like the hat he had borrowed for her use in thefall. She smiled happily as she set it upon her head, and then laughedoutright as she remembered her shabby silk gloves. Never mind. She couldtake them off when she reached the church. 

She packed the little black dress into the suit-case, folded the felt haton the top with a tender pat, and, putting on her gloves, hurried down tothe one who waited for her. 

The matron had gone upstairs to the linen closet and left the girl withthe discontented upper lip in charge in the office. The latter watched theelegant lady in the rich furs come down the hall from the elevator, andwondered who she was and why she had been upstairs. Probably to visitsome poor protégée, she thought. The girl caught the love-light in theeyes of Tryon Dunham as he rose to meet his bride, and she recognized himas the same man who had been in close converse with the cheaply dressedgirl in the parlor an hour before, and sneered as she wondered what thefine lady in furs would think if she knew about the other girl. Then theywent out to the carriage, past the baggy, rubbered man, who shrank backsuddenly behind a stone column and watched them. 

As Dunham shut the door, he looked back just in time to see a slight man, with dark eyes and hair, hurry up and touch the baggy man on the shoulder. The latter pointed toward their carriage. 

"See!" said Dunham. "I believe those are the men who were hovering aroundthe house last night. "

The girl leaned forward to look, and then drew back with an exclamation ofhorror as the carriage started. 

"Oh, that man is my cousin Richard, " she cried. 

"Are you sure?" he asked, and a look of determination settled into hisface. 

"Perfectly, " she answered, looking out again. "Do you suppose he has seenme?"

"I suppose he has, but we'll soon turn the tables. " He leaned out andspoke a word to the driver, who drew up around the next corner in front ofa telephone pay-station. 

"Come with me for just a minute, dear. I'll telephone to a detectivebureau where they know me and have that man watched. He is unsafe to haveat large. " He helped her out and drew her arm firmly within his own. "Don't be afraid any more. I will take care of you. "

He telephoned a careful description of the two men and their whereabouts, and before he had hung up the receiver a man had started post-haste forthe Y. W. C. A. Building. 

Then Tryon Dunham put the girl tenderly into the carriage, and to diverther attention he opened the box of flowers and put a great sheaf of whiteroses and lilies-of-the-valley into the little gloved hands. Then, takingher in his arms for the first time, he kissed her. He noticed the shabbygloves, and, putting his hand in his breast pocket, drew out the whitegloves she had worn before, saying, "See! I have carried them there eversince you sent them back! My sister never asked for them. I kept them foryour sake. "

The color had come back into her cheeks when they reached the church, andhe thought her a beautiful bride as he led her into the dim aisle. Someone up in the choir loft was playing the wedding march, and the minister'swife and young daughter sat waiting to witness the ceremony. 

The minister met them at the door with a welcoming smile and hand-shake, and led them forward. As the music hushed for the words of the ceremony, he leaned forward to the young man and whispered:

"I neglected to ask you her name, Tryon. "

"Oh, yes. " The young man paused in his dilemma and looked for an instantat the sweet face of the girl beside him. But he could not let his friendsee that he did not know the name of his wife-to-be, and with quickthought he answered, "Mary!"

The ceremony proceeded, and the minister's voice sounded out solemnly inthe empty church: "Do you, Tryon, take this woman whom you hold by thehand to be your lawful wedded wife?"

The young man's fingers held the timid hand of the woman firmly as heanswered, "I do. "

"Do you, Mary, take this man?" came the next question, and the girl lookedup with clear eyes and said, "I do. "

Then the minister's wife, who knew and prized Tryon Dunham's friendship, said to herself: "It's all right. She loves him. "

When the solemn words were spoken that bound them together through life, and they had thanked their kind friends and were once more out in thecarriage, Tryon said:

"Do you know you haven't told me your real name yet?"

She laughed happily as the carriage started on its way, and answered, "Why, it is Mary!"

As the carriage rounded the first corner beyond the church, two breathlessindividuals hurried up from the other direction. One was short and baggy, and the sole of one rubber flopped dismally as he struggled to keep upwith the alert strides of the other man, who was slim and angry. They hadbeen detained by an altercation with the matron of the Y. W. C. A. Building, and puzzled by the story of the plainly dressed girl who had taken theroom, and the fine lady who had left the building in company with agentleman, until it was settled by the elevator boy, who declared the twowomen to be one and the same. 

A moment later a man in citizen's clothing, who had keen eyes, and who wasriding a motor-cycle, rounded the corner and puffed placidly along nearthe two. He appeared to be looking at the numbers on the other side of thestreet, but he heard every word that they said as they caught sight of thedisappearing carriage and hurried after it. He had been standing in theentrance of the Y. W. C. A. Building, an apparently careless observer, whilethe elevator boy gave his evidence. 

The motor-cycle shot ahead a few rods, passed the carriage, and discoveredby a keen glance who were the occupants. Then it rounded the block andcame almost up to the two pursuers again. 

When the carriage stopped at the side entrance of a hotel the man on themotor-cycle was ahead of the pursuers and discovered it first, long enoughto see the two get out and go up the marble steps. The carriage wasdriving away when the thin man came in sight, with the baggy manstruggling along half a block behind, his padded feet coming down inheavy, dragging thuds, like a St. Bernard dog in bedroom slippers. 

One glimpse the pursuers had of their prey as the elevator shot upward. They managed to evade the hotel authorities and get up the wide staircasewithout observation. By keeping on the alert, they discovered that theelevator had stopped at the second floor, so the people they were trackingmust have apartments there. Lurking in the shadowy parts of the hall, theywatched, and soon were rewarded by seeing Dunham come out of a room andhurry to the elevator. He had remembered his promise to his mother aboutthe engravers. As soon as he was gone, they presented themselves boldly atthe door. 

Filled with the joy that had come to her and feeling entirely safe now inthe protection of her husband, Mary Dunham opened the door. She supposed, of course, it was the bell-boy with a pitcher of ice-water, for which shehad just rung. 

"Ah, here you are at last, my pretty cousin!" It was the voice of Richardthat menaced her, with all the stored-up wrath of his long-baffled search. 

At that moment the man from the motor-cycle stepped softly up the topstair and slid unseen into the shadows of the hall. 

For an instant it seemed to Mary Dunham that she was going to faint, andin one swift flash of thought she saw herself overpowered and carried intohiding before her husband should return. But with a supreme effort shecontrolled herself, and faced her tormentor with unflinching gaze. Thoughher strength had deserted her at first, every faculty was now keen andcollected. As if nothing unusual were happening, she put out her cold, trembling fingers, and laid them firmly over the electric button on thewall. Then with new strength coming from the certainty that some one wouldsoon come to her aid, she opened her lips to speak. 

"What are you doing here, Richard?"

"I've come after you, my lady. A nice chase you've led me, but you shallpay for it now. "

The cruelty in his face eclipsed any lines of beauty which might have beenthere. The girl's heart froze within her as she looked once more intothose eyes, which had always seemed to her like sword-points. 

"I shall never go anywhere with you, " she answered steadily. 

He seized her delicate wrist roughly, twisting it with the old wrench withwhich he had tormented her in their childhood days. None of them saw thestranger who was quietly walking down the hall toward them. 

"Will you go peaceably, or shall I have to gag and bind you?" saidRichard. "Choose quickly. I'm in no mood to trifle with you any longer. "

Although he hurt her wrist cruelly, she threw herself back from him andwith her other hand pressed still harder against the electric button. Thebell was ringing furiously down in the office, but the walls were thickand the halls lofty. It could not be heard above. 

"Catch that other hand, Mike, " commanded Richard, "and stuff this in hermouth, while I tie her hands behind her back. "

It was then that Mary screamed. The man in the shadow stepped up behindand said in a low voice:

"What does all this mean?"

The two men, startled, dropped the girl's hands for the instant. ThenRichard, white with anger at this interference, answered insolently: "Itmeans that this girl's an escaped lunatic, and we're sent to take herback. She's dangerous, so you'd better keep out of the way. "

Then Mary Dunham's voice, clear and penetrating, rang through the halls:

"Tryon, Tryon! Come quick! Help! Help!"

As if in answer to her call, the elevator shot up to the second floor, andTryon Dunham stepped out in time to see the two men snatch Mary's handsagain and attempt to bind them behind her back. 

In an instant he had seized Richard by the collar and landed him on thehall carpet, while a well directed blow sent the flabby Irishman sprawlingat the feet of the detective, who promptly sat on him and pinioned hisarms behind him. 

"How dare you lay a finger upon this lady?" said Tryon Dunham, as hestepped to the side of his wife and put a strong arm about her, where shestood white and frightened in the doorway. 

No one had noticed that the bell-boy had come to the head of the stairsand received a quiet order from the detective. 

In sudden fear, the discomfited Richard arose and attempted to bluff thestranger who had so unwarrantly interfered just as his fingers were aboutto close over the golden treasure of his cousin's fortune. 

"Indeed, sir, you wholly misunderstand the situation, " he said to Dunham, with an air of injured innocence, "though perhaps you can scarcely beblamed. This girl is an escaped lunatic. We have been searching for herfor days, and have just traced her. It is our business to take her back atonce. Her friends are in great distress about her. Moreover, she isdangerous and a menace to every guest in this house. She has several timesattempted murder----"

"Stop!" roared Dunham, in a thunderous voice of righteous anger. "She ismy wife. And you are her cousin. I know all about your plot to shut her upin an insane asylum and steal her fortune. I have found you sooner than Iexpected, and I intend to see that the law takes its full course withyou. "

Two policemen now arrived on the scene, with a number of eager bell-boysand porters in their wake, ready to take part in the excitement. 

Richard had turned deadly white at the words, "She is my wife!" It was thedeath-knell of his hopes of securing the fortune for which he had nothesitated to sacrifice every particle of moral principle. When he turnedand saw impending retribution in the shape of the two stalwartrepresentatives of the law, a look of cunning came into his face, and withone swift motion he turned to flee up the staircase close at hand. 

"Not much you don't, " said an enterprising bell-boy, flinging himself inthe way and tripping up the scoundrel in his flight. 

The policemen were upon him and had him handcuffed in an instant. TheIrishman now began to protest that he was but an innocent tool, hired tohelp discover the whereabouts of an escaped lunatic, as he supposed. Hewas walked off to the patrol wagon without further ceremony. 

It was all over in a few minutes. The elevator carried off the detective, the policemen, and their two prisoners. The door closed behind Dunham andhis bride, and the curious guests who had peered out, alarmed by theuproar, saw nothing but a few bell-boys standing in the hall, describingto one another the scene as they had witnessed it. 

"He stood here and I stood right there, " said one, "and the policeman, hecome----"

The guests could not find out just what had happened, but supposed therehad been an attempted robbery, and retired behind locked doors to see thattheir jewels were safely hidden. 

Dunham drew the trembling girl into his arms and tried to soothe her. Thetears rained down the white cheeks as her head lay upon his breast, and hekissed them away. 

"Oh!" she sobbed, shuddering. "If you had not come! It was terrible, _terrible_! I believe he would have killed me rather than have let me goagain. "

Gradually his tender ministrations calmed her, but she turned troubledeyes to his face. 

"You do not know yet that I am all I say. You have nothing to prove it. Ofcourse, by and by, when I can get to my guardians, and with your helpperhaps make them understand, you will know, but I don't see how you cantrust me till then. "

For answer he brought his hand up in front of her face and turned theflashing diamond--her diamond--so that its glory caught the single ray ofsetting sun that filtered into the hotel window. 

"See, darling, " he said. "It is your ring. I have worn it ever since as anoutward sign that I trusted you. "

"You are taking me on trust, though, in spite of all you say, and it isbeautiful. "

He laid his lips against hers. "Yes, " he said; "it is beautiful, and it isbest. "

It was very still in the room for a moment while she nestled close to himand his eyes drank in the sweetness of her face. 

"See, " said he, taking a tiny velvet case from his pocket and touching thespring that opened it. "I have amused myself finding a mate to your stone. I thought perhaps you would let me wear your ring always, while you wearmine. "

He lifted the jewel from its white velvet bed and showed her theinscription inside: "Mary, from Tryon. " Then he slipped it on her fingerto guard the wedding ring he had given her at the church. His arm thatencircled her clasped her left wrist, and the two diamonds flashed side byside. The last gleam of the setting sun, ere it vanished behind the tallbuildings on the west, glanced in and blazed the gems into tangled beamsof glory, darting out in many colored prisms to light the vision of thefuture of the man and the woman. He bent and kissed her again, and theireyes met like other jewels, in which gleamed the glory of their love andtrust. 

THE END.