October 13, 2025 • 25 mins
09 - The Best Man by Grace Livingston Hill.
Cyril Gordon, a young and handsome secret service agent is running from pursuers who desperately want the information he holds. He hides out from them in a church, and then finds himself married to a woman he’s never seen before. A sweet and sometimes, funny, romance, with several exciting chases.
Cyril Gordon, a young and handsome secret service agent is running from pursuers who desperately want the information he holds. He hides out from them in a church, and then finds himself married to a woman he’s never seen before. A sweet and sometimes, funny, romance, with several exciting chases.
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter nine of the Best Man. This LibriVox recording is
in the public domain. Recording by Gale Mattern. The Best
Man by Grace livingstone Hill, chapter nine. It was just
at that instant that the thick set man in his
berth not ten feet away, became broadly conscious of the
(00:21):
unwonted stillness of the train and the cessation of motion
that had lulled him to such sound repose. So does
a tiny, sharp sound strike upon our senses and bring
them into life again from sleep, making us aware of
a state of things that has been going on for
some time, perhaps without our realization. The sound that roused
(00:42):
him may have been the click of the stateroom latch
as Gordon opened the door. The shades were down in
the man's berth and the curtains drawn close. The daylight
had not as yet penetrated through the thickness, but once awake,
his senses were immediately on the alert. He yawned, stretched,
and suddenly arrested another yawn to analyze the utter stillness
(01:06):
all about him. A sonorous snore suddenly emphasized the quiet
of the car and made him aware of all the occupants,
of all those curtained apartments. His mind went over a
quick resumee of the night before and detailed him at
once to duty. Another soft clicking of the latch set
him to listening, and his briskly shocked head was stuck
(01:28):
instantly out between the curtains into the aisle, eyes toward
the stateroom door, just in time to see that a
man was stealing quietly down the passageway out of the
end door, carrying two suit cases and an umbrella. It
was his man, he was sure instantly, and his mind
grew frantic with the thought. Almost he had outdone himself
(01:50):
through foolish sleep. He half sprang from his berth, then
remembered that he was but partly dressed, and jerked back
quickly to grab his clothes, stopping in the operation of
putting them on, to yank up his window shade with
an impatient click and flatten his face against the window pane. Yes,
they were down on the ground outside the train, both
(02:11):
of them, man, woman, baggage, and all slipping away from
him while he slept peacefully and let them go. The
language of his mind at that point was hot with invectives.
Gordon had made his way back to the girl's side,
without meeting any porters or wakeful fellow passengers, but a
distant rumbling greeted his ears. The waited for express was coming.
(02:34):
If they were to get away, it must be done
at once, or their flight would be discovered and perhaps
even prevented. It certainly was better not to have it
known where they got off. He had taken the precaution
to close the stateroom door behind him, and so it
might be some time before their absence would be discovered.
Perhaps there would be other stops before the train reached Buffalo,
(02:56):
in which case the track would not easily be followed.
He had no eye idea that the evil eye of
his pursuer was even then upon him. Celia was already
on the ground, looking off toward the little village, wistfully.
Just how it was to make her lot any brighter
to get out of the train and run away to
a strange little village. She did not quite explain to herself,
(03:18):
but it seemed to be a relief to her pent
up feelings. She was half afraid that George might raise
some new objection when he returned. Gordon swung himself down
on the cinder path, scanning the track either way. The
conductor and brakemen were not in sight. Far in the distance,
a black speck was rushing down upon them. Gordon could
hear the vibration of the rail of the second track,
(03:40):
upon which he placed his foot as he helped Celia across.
In a moment more the train would pass. It was
important that they should be down the embankment out of sight.
Would the delicate girl not be afraid of the steep incline?
She hesitated for just an instant at the top, for
it was very steep, then look looking up at him,
(04:01):
she saw that he expected her to go down with him.
She gave a little frightened gasp, set her lips, and started.
He held her as well as he could with two
suit cases and an umbrella clutched in his other hand,
And finally, as the gray grew steeper, he let go
the baggage altogether, and it slid briskly down by itself,
while he devoted himself to steadying the girl's now inevitable
(04:23):
and swift descent. It certainly was not an ideal way
of traveling this new style of gravity road, but it
landed them without delay, though much shaken and scratched and
divested of every vestige of dignity, it was impossible not
to laugh, and Celia's voice rang out merrily, showing that
she had not always wept and looked sorrowful. Are you
(04:45):
much hurt? Asked Gordon, anxiously, holding her hands and looking
down at her tenderly. Before she could reply, the express
train roared above them, drowning their voices in laughter, and
when it was past, they saw their own train take
up its interrupted way, grumblingly and rapidly move off. If
the passengers on those two trains had not been deeply
(05:05):
wrapped in slumber, they might have been surprised to see
two fashionably attired young persons with hats awry and clasped
hands laughing in a country road at five o'clock of
a May morning. But only one was awake, and by
the time the two in the road below remembered to
look up and take notice, the trains were rapidly disappearing.
(05:27):
The girl had been deeply impressed with good and solicitude
for her. It was so out of keeping with his letters.
He had never seemed to care whether she suffered or not.
In all the arrangements he had said what he wanted,
indeed what he would have with an implied threat in
the framing of his sentence in case she did demure.
Never had there been the least expression of desire for
(05:49):
her happiness. Therefore, it was something of a surprise to
find him so gentle and thoughtful of her. Perhaps, after all,
he would not prove so terrible to live with as
she had feared. And yet, how could any one who
wrote those letters have any alleviating qualities? It could not be.
She must harden herself against him. Still, if he would
(06:11):
be outwardly decent to her, it would make her lot easier,
of course, But her course of mental reasoning was broken
in upon by his stout denunciations of himself. I ought
not to have allowed you to slide down there, he declared.
It was terrible after what you went through last night.
I didn't realize how steep and rough it was. Indeed
I didn't. I don't see how you can ever forgive me.
(06:34):
Why I'm not hurt, she said gently, Astonished at his solicitation.
There was a strange lump in her throat, brought by
his kindness, which threatened tears. Just why should kindness from
an unexpected quarter bring tears. I'm only a little shaken up,
she went on, as she saw a real anxiety in
his brown eyes. And I don't mind it in the least.
(06:56):
I think it was rather fun, don't you A thing?
Glimmer of a smile wavered over the corners of her mouth,
and Gordon experienced a sudden desire to take her in
his arms and kiss her. It was a strange new feeling.
He had never had any such thought about Julia Bentley.
Why I Why, yes, I guess so if you assure
(07:18):
you're not her, not a bit, she said, and then
for some unexplained reason, they both began to laugh. After
that they felt better. If your shoes are as full
of these miserable cinders as mine are, they need emptying,
declared Gordon, shaking first one well shod foot and then
the other, and looking ruefully at the little velvet boots
(07:38):
of the lady. Suppose you sit down? He looked about
for a seat, but the dewy grass was the only
resting place visible. He pitched upon the suitcases and improvised
a chair. Now sit down and let me take them
off for you. He knelt in the road at her feet,
as she obeyed, protesting that she could do it for herself.
(07:59):
But he overruled and began clumsily to unbutton the tiny buttons.
Holding the timid little foot firmly, almost reverently, against his knee,
he drew the velvet shoe softly off, and, turning it
upside down, shook out the intruding cinders, put a clumsy
finger in to make sure they were all gone, then shyly,
(08:20):
tenderly passed his hand over the sole of the fine
silk stocking foot that rested so lightly on his knee,
to make sure no cinders clung to it. The sight
and touch of that little foot stirred him deeply. He
had never before been called upon to render service so
intimate to any woman, and he did it now with
half averted gaze and the utmost respect in his manner.
(08:44):
As he did it, he tried to speak about the morning,
the departing train, the annoying cinders, anything to make the
unusual position seem natural and unstrained. He felt deeply embarrassed,
the more so because of his own double part in
this queer masquerade. Celia sat watching him strangely, stirred her
(09:04):
wonder over his kindness grew with each moment, and her
prejudices almost dissolved. She could not understand it. There must
be something more he wanted of her, For George Hayne
had never been kind in the past. Unless he wanted
something of her, she dreaded, lest she should soon find
it out. Yet he did not look like a man
(09:24):
who was deceiving her. She drew a deep sigh. If
only it were true, and he were good and kind
and had never written those awful letters, how good and
dear it would be to be tenderly cared for this way.
Her lips drooped at the corners, and her eyelids drooped
in company with a sigh. Then Gordon looked up in
great distress. You are tired, he declared, pausing in his
(09:47):
attempt to fasten the little pearl buttons. I have been
cruel to let you get off the train. Indeed, I'm not,
said the girl, brightening with a sudden effort. At least
she would not spoil the kindness while it lasted. It
was surely better than what she had feared. You can
never button those shoes with your fingers, she laughed, as
he redoubled his efforts to capture a tiny disc of
(10:08):
pearl and set it into its small velvet socket. Here,
I have a button hook in my handbag. Try this.
She produced a small silver instrument from a gold link
bag on her arm and handed it to him. He
took it helplessly, trying first one end and then the other,
and succeeding with neither. Here let me show you, she laughed,
(10:30):
Pulling off one glove. Her white fingers grasped the silver
button hook and flashed in and out of the velvet holes,
knitting the little shoe to the foot in no time.
He watched the process in humble wonder, and she would
not have been a human girl not to have been
flattered with his interest in admiration. For the minute she
forgot who and what he was, and let her laugh
(10:51):
ring out merrily. And so with shy audacity he essayed
to take off the other shoe. They really felt quite
well acquainted, and as if they were gone going on
a day's picnic. When they finally gathered up their belongings
and started down the road, Gordon summoned all his ready
wit and intellect to brighten a walk for her. Though
he found himself again and again on the brink of
(11:13):
referring to his Washington life or some other personal matter
that would have brought a wondering question to her lips.
He had decided that he must not tell her who
he was until he could put her in an independent
position where she could get away from him at once
if she chose. He was bound to look after her
until he could place her in good hands, or at
least where she could look after herself, and it was
(11:36):
better to carry it out, leaving her to think what
she pleased, until he could tell her everything. If all
went well, they might be able to catch at Pittsburgh
train that night and be in Washington the next day. Then,
his message delivered, he would tell her the whole story.
Until then he must hold his peace. They went gaily
down the road, the girl's pale cheeks beginning to flush
(11:58):
with the morning and the exercise. She was not naturally delicate,
and her faint the night before had been the result
of a series of heavy strains on a heart burdened
with terrible fear. The morning and his kindness had made
her forget for the time that she was supposed to
be walking into a world of dread and sacrifice. The
years at the spring. The days at the morn, quoted
(12:21):
Gordon gaily, mornings at seven, the hillsides dew pearled. He
waved an umbrella off to where a hill flashed back
a thousand lights from its jeweled grass blades thickly set.
The larks on the wing, the snails on the thorn
went on, Celia, suddenly catching his spirit and pointing to
a lark that darted up into the blue. With the
(12:42):
trill of the morning in his throat, Gordon turned appreciative
eyes upon her. It was good to have her take
up his favorite poet in that tone of voice, a
tone that showed she too knew and loved Browning. God's
in his heaven, All's right with the world, finished Gordon
in a quiet a voice, looking straight into her eyes.
That seems very true to day, doesn't it. The blue
(13:05):
eyes waved with a hint of shadow in them as
they looked back into the brown ones. Almost perhaps, she
faltered wistfully. The young man wished he dared go behind
that almost perhaps and find out what she meant, but
concluded it were better to bring back the smile and
help her to forget for a little while, at least
(13:25):
down by the brook. They paused to rest under a
weeping willow whose green tinged plumes were dabbling in the brook.
Gordon arranged the suitcases for her to sit upon, then
climbed down to the brook side and gathered a great
bunch of forget me nots, blue as her eyes, and
brought them to her. She looked at them in wonder
to think they grew out here wild, untended. She had
(13:47):
never seen them before, except in pots in the flooris windows.
She touched them delicately with the tips of her fingers,
as if they were too ethereal for earth, then fastened
them in the breast of her gown. They exactly match
your eyes, he exclaimed involuntarily, and then wished he had
not spoken, for she flushed and paled under his glance,
(14:09):
until he felt he had been unduly bold. He wondered
why he had said that. He never had been in
the habit of saying pretty things to girls, but this
girl somehow called it from him. It was genuine. He
sat a moment, abashed, not knowing what to say next,
as if he were a shy boy, and she did
not help him, for her eyelashes drooped in a long
(14:30):
becoming sweep over her cheeks, and she seemed, for the
moment not to be able to carry off the situation.
He was not sure if she were displeased or not.
Her heart had thrilled strangely as he spoke, and she
was vexed with herself that it should be so. A
man who bullied and threatened her for three terrible months
(14:50):
and forced her to marry him had no right to
a thrill of her heart, nor a look from her eyes,
be he ever so kind for the moment, he certainly
was nice and pleasant when he chose to be. She
must watch herself, for never, never must she yield weakly
to his smooth overtures. Well did she know him? He
(15:10):
had some reason for all this pleasantness. It would surely
be revealed soon. She stiffened her lips and tried to
look away from him to the purply green hills. But
the echo of his words came upon her again and
again her heart thrilled at them. What if, oh, what
if he were all right and she might accept the
admiration in his voice? And yet how could that be possible?
(15:35):
The sweet color came into her cheeks again, and the
tears flew quickly to her eyes till they looked all
sky and dew, and she dared not turn back to him.
The silence remained unbroken until a lark in the willow
copse behind them burst forth into song and broke the
spell that was upon them. Are you offended at what
(15:55):
I said? He asked earnestly. I am sorry if you
did not like it. The word said themselves, without my
stopping to think whether you might not like it. Will
you forgive me? Oh, she said, lifting her forget me
not eyes to his. I am not offended. There is
nothing to forgive. It was beautiful. Then his eyes spoke
the compliment over again, and the thrill started anew in
(16:18):
her heart, till her cheeks grew quite rosy, and she
buried her face in the coolness of the tiny flowers
to hide her confusion. It was very true, he said,
in a low, loverlike voice that sounded like a caress.
Oughtn't we to hurry on to catch our train? Said Celia,
suddenly springing to her feet. I'm quite rested now, she felt.
(16:40):
If she stayed there another moment, she would yield to
the spell he had cast upon her. With a dull thought,
of consciousness. The man got himself to his feet and
reminded himself that this was another man's promised wife, to
whom he had been letting his soul go out. Don't
let anything hinder you. Don't let anything hinder you, suddenly
(17:02):
babbled out the little brook, and he gathered up his
suit cases and started on. I am going to carry
my suit case, declared a very decided voice behind him,
and a small hand seized hold of its handle. I
beg your pardon, you are not, declared Gordon, in a
much more determined voice. But they are too heavy for you,
both of them, and the umbrella too. She protested, give
(17:24):
me the umbrella then, but he would not give her
even the umbrella, rejoicing in his strength to shield her
and bear her burdens. As she walked beside him, she
remembered vividly a morning when George Hayne had made her
carry two heavy baskets that his hands might be free
to shoot birds. Could this be the same George Hayne? Altogether,
(17:46):
it was a happy walk, and far shorter than either
had expected it to be, though Gordon worried not a
little about his frail companion before they came to the
outskirts of the village and kept begging her to sit
down and rest again, but she would not. She was
quite eager and excited about the strange village to which
they were coming. Its outlying farmhouses were all so clean
(18:06):
and white, with green blinds folded placidly over their front
windows and only their back doors astir. The cows all
looked peaceful, and the dogs all seemed friendly. They walked
up the village street, shaded in patches with flecks of
sunshine through the young leaves. If any one had told
Celia Hathaway the night before that she would have walked
(18:27):
and talked thus to day with her bridegroom, she would
have laughed him to scorn. But now, all unconsciously, she
had drifted into an attitude of friendliness with the man
whom she had thought to hate all the rest of
her life. One long, straight, maple lined street, running parallel
to the stream, comprised the village. They walked to the
(18:47):
center of it and still saw no signs of a restaurant.
A post office, a couple of stores, and a bakery
made up the business portion of the town, and upon
enquiry it appeared that there was no public eating house,
the one hotel of the place having been sold at
auction the week before on account of the death of
the owner. The early village loungers stared disinterestedly at the
(19:10):
phenomenal appearance in their midst of a couple of city
folks with their luggage and no apparent means of transit
except there too delicately shod feet. It presented a problem
too grave to be solved unassisted, and there were solemn
shakings of the head over them. At last, one who
had discouragingly stated the village lack of a public inn,
(19:30):
asked casually he had a runaway. Oh no, laughed Gordon, pleasantly.
We didn't travel with horses. He had a puncture, then
announced the village wise acre, shifting from one foot to
the other. Well, you've come the wrong direction to get help,
said another languid listener. There ain't no garage here. The
(19:52):
feller WoT use it to keep it skipped out with
Samgald's wife a month ago. You'd ought to have turned
back to Ashville. The they got a good blacksmith. There
can tinky you'r up? Is that so? Said Gordon interestedly.
Well now that's too bad, But perhaps as it can't
be helped, we'll have to forget it. What's the next
town on ahead? And how far sugar Groves? Two miles
(20:15):
further on? In Milton's five they've got a garage in
a restaurant to Milton. But that's only since the railroad
built a junction. There has any one here a conveyance
I could hire to take us to Milton, questioned Gordon,
looking anxiously about the indolent group. I wouldn't want to
drive to Milton for less than five dollars, declared a
(20:37):
lazy youth. After a suitable pause, Very well, said Gordon.
How soon can you be ready? And what sort of
a rig have you? Will it be comfortable for the lady?
The youth eyed the graceful woman in her dainty city
dress scornfully. His own country lass was dressed far prettier
to his mind, But the eyes of her, so blue
like the little weed flowers at her breast, went to
(20:59):
his head. His tongue was suddenly tied. It's all right,
it's as good as you'll get, volunteered a sullen faced man,
half sitting on a sugar barrel. He was of a
type who preferred to see fashionable ladies uncomfortable. The youth
departed for his team, and after some enquiries, Gordon found
that he might be able to persuade the owner of
(21:19):
the tiny white colonial cottage across the street to prepare
a snack for himself and his companion. So they went
across the street and waited fifteen minutes in a dank,
little haircloth parlor adorned in funeral wreaths and knit tidies,
for a delicious breakfast of poached eggs, coffee, home made bread,
butter like roses, and a comb of the amber honey.
(21:42):
To each The experience was a new one, and they
enjoyed it together, like two children, letting their eyes speak
volumes of comments in the midst of the old lady's volubility.
Unconsciously by their experiences, they were being brought into sympathy
with each other. The rig, when it arrived at the door,
driven by the blushing youth, proved to be a high
(22:02):
spring wagon with two seats in the front. One the
youth lounged without a thought of assisting his passengers. Gordon
swung the baggage up and then lifted the girl into
the back seat, himself, taking the place beside her, and
planting a firm hand and arm behind the backless seat
that she might feel more secure. That ride with his
(22:22):
arm behind her was just one more link in the
pretty chain of sympathy that was being welded about these
two unconsciously. More and more she began to droop, until
when she grew very tired, he seemed to know at once,
just lean against my arm, he said, you must be
very tired, and it will help you bear the jolting.
He spoke as if his arm were made of wood
(22:44):
or iron and was merely one of his belongings, like
an umbrella or a suit case. He made it seem
quite the natural thing for her to lean against him.
If he had claimed it as her right and privilege
as wife, she would have recoiled from him for recalling
to her the hated relation, and would have sat straight
as a bean pole the rest of the way. But
as it was, she sank back a trifle deprecatingly, and
(23:08):
realized that it was a great help in her heart.
She thanked him for making it possible for her to
rest without entirely compromising her attitude toward him. There was
nothing about it that suggested anything loverlike. It seemed just
a calm and courtesy. Yet the strong arm almost trembled
as he felt the precious weight against it, and he
(23:29):
wished that the way were ten miles instead of five. Once,
as Celia leaned forward to point to a particularly lovely
bit of view that opened up. As they wound around
a curve in the road, they ran over a stone,
and the wagon gave an unexpected jolt. Gordon reached his
hand out to steady her, and she settled back to
his arm with a sense of safety and being cared
(23:50):
for that was very pleasant. Looking up shyly, she saw
his eyes upon her with that deep look of admiration
and something more, and again, that strange thrill of joy
that had come when he gave her the forget me
nots swept through her. She felt almost as if she
were horboring a sinful thought when she remembered the letters
(24:10):
he had written. But the joy of the day and
the sweetness of happiness for even a moment when she
had been for so long a time sad, was so
pleasant that she let herself enjoy it and drift, refusing
to think evil of him now here in this bright day. Thus,
like children on a picnic, they passed through Sugar Grove
(24:31):
and came to the town of Milton, and there they
bade their driver good bye, rewarding him with a crisp
five dollar bill. He drove home with a vision of
smiles and forget me not eyes, and a marked inability
to tell anything about his wonderful passengers, who had filled
the little village with awe and amazement, and had given
no clue to any one as to who or what
(24:54):
they were. End of Chapter nine.
Chapter nine of the Best Man. This LibriVox recording is
in the public domain. Recording by Gale Mattern. The Best
Man by Grace livingstone Hill, chapter nine. It was just
at that instant that the thick set man in his
berth not ten feet away, became broadly conscious of the
(00:21):
unwonted stillness of the train and the cessation of motion
that had lulled him to such sound repose. So does
a tiny, sharp sound strike upon our senses and bring
them into life again from sleep, making us aware of
a state of things that has been going on for
some time, perhaps without our realization. The sound that roused
(00:42):
him may have been the click of the stateroom latch
as Gordon opened the door. The shades were down in
the man's berth and the curtains drawn close. The daylight
had not as yet penetrated through the thickness, but once awake,
his senses were immediately on the alert. He yawned, stretched,
and suddenly arrested another yawn to analyze the utter stillness
(01:06):
all about him. A sonorous snore suddenly emphasized the quiet
of the car and made him aware of all the occupants,
of all those curtained apartments. His mind went over a
quick resumee of the night before and detailed him at
once to duty. Another soft clicking of the latch set
him to listening, and his briskly shocked head was stuck
(01:28):
instantly out between the curtains into the aisle, eyes toward
the stateroom door, just in time to see that a
man was stealing quietly down the passageway out of the
end door, carrying two suit cases and an umbrella. It
was his man, he was sure instantly, and his mind
grew frantic with the thought. Almost he had outdone himself
(01:50):
through foolish sleep. He half sprang from his berth, then
remembered that he was but partly dressed, and jerked back
quickly to grab his clothes, stopping in the operation of
putting them on, to yank up his window shade with
an impatient click and flatten his face against the window pane. Yes,
they were down on the ground outside the train, both
(02:11):
of them, man, woman, baggage, and all slipping away from
him while he slept peacefully and let them go. The
language of his mind at that point was hot with invectives.
Gordon had made his way back to the girl's side,
without meeting any porters or wakeful fellow passengers, but a
distant rumbling greeted his ears. The waited for express was coming.
(02:34):
If they were to get away, it must be done
at once, or their flight would be discovered and perhaps
even prevented. It certainly was better not to have it
known where they got off. He had taken the precaution
to close the stateroom door behind him, and so it
might be some time before their absence would be discovered.
Perhaps there would be other stops before the train reached Buffalo,
(02:56):
in which case the track would not easily be followed.
He had no eye idea that the evil eye of
his pursuer was even then upon him. Celia was already
on the ground, looking off toward the little village, wistfully.
Just how it was to make her lot any brighter
to get out of the train and run away to
a strange little village. She did not quite explain to herself,
(03:18):
but it seemed to be a relief to her pent
up feelings. She was half afraid that George might raise
some new objection when he returned. Gordon swung himself down
on the cinder path, scanning the track either way. The
conductor and brakemen were not in sight. Far in the distance,
a black speck was rushing down upon them. Gordon could
hear the vibration of the rail of the second track,
(03:40):
upon which he placed his foot as he helped Celia across.
In a moment more the train would pass. It was
important that they should be down the embankment out of sight.
Would the delicate girl not be afraid of the steep incline?
She hesitated for just an instant at the top, for
it was very steep, then look looking up at him,
(04:01):
she saw that he expected her to go down with him.
She gave a little frightened gasp, set her lips, and started.
He held her as well as he could with two
suit cases and an umbrella clutched in his other hand,
And finally, as the gray grew steeper, he let go
the baggage altogether, and it slid briskly down by itself,
while he devoted himself to steadying the girl's now inevitable
(04:23):
and swift descent. It certainly was not an ideal way
of traveling this new style of gravity road, but it
landed them without delay, though much shaken and scratched and
divested of every vestige of dignity, it was impossible not
to laugh, and Celia's voice rang out merrily, showing that
she had not always wept and looked sorrowful. Are you
(04:45):
much hurt? Asked Gordon, anxiously, holding her hands and looking
down at her tenderly. Before she could reply, the express
train roared above them, drowning their voices in laughter, and
when it was past, they saw their own train take
up its interrupted way, grumblingly and rapidly move off. If
the passengers on those two trains had not been deeply
(05:05):
wrapped in slumber, they might have been surprised to see
two fashionably attired young persons with hats awry and clasped
hands laughing in a country road at five o'clock of
a May morning. But only one was awake, and by
the time the two in the road below remembered to
look up and take notice, the trains were rapidly disappearing.
(05:27):
The girl had been deeply impressed with good and solicitude
for her. It was so out of keeping with his letters.
He had never seemed to care whether she suffered or not.
In all the arrangements he had said what he wanted,
indeed what he would have with an implied threat in
the framing of his sentence in case she did demure.
Never had there been the least expression of desire for
(05:49):
her happiness. Therefore, it was something of a surprise to
find him so gentle and thoughtful of her. Perhaps, after all,
he would not prove so terrible to live with as
she had feared. And yet, how could any one who
wrote those letters have any alleviating qualities? It could not be.
She must harden herself against him. Still, if he would
(06:11):
be outwardly decent to her, it would make her lot easier,
of course, But her course of mental reasoning was broken
in upon by his stout denunciations of himself. I ought
not to have allowed you to slide down there, he declared.
It was terrible after what you went through last night.
I didn't realize how steep and rough it was. Indeed
I didn't. I don't see how you can ever forgive me.
(06:34):
Why I'm not hurt, she said gently, Astonished at his solicitation.
There was a strange lump in her throat, brought by
his kindness, which threatened tears. Just why should kindness from
an unexpected quarter bring tears. I'm only a little shaken up,
she went on, as she saw a real anxiety in
his brown eyes. And I don't mind it in the least.
(06:56):
I think it was rather fun, don't you A thing?
Glimmer of a smile wavered over the corners of her mouth,
and Gordon experienced a sudden desire to take her in
his arms and kiss her. It was a strange new feeling.
He had never had any such thought about Julia Bentley.
Why I Why, yes, I guess so if you assure
(07:18):
you're not her, not a bit, she said, and then
for some unexplained reason, they both began to laugh. After
that they felt better. If your shoes are as full
of these miserable cinders as mine are, they need emptying,
declared Gordon, shaking first one well shod foot and then
the other, and looking ruefully at the little velvet boots
(07:38):
of the lady. Suppose you sit down? He looked about
for a seat, but the dewy grass was the only
resting place visible. He pitched upon the suitcases and improvised
a chair. Now sit down and let me take them
off for you. He knelt in the road at her feet,
as she obeyed, protesting that she could do it for herself.
(07:59):
But he overruled and began clumsily to unbutton the tiny buttons.
Holding the timid little foot firmly, almost reverently, against his knee,
he drew the velvet shoe softly off, and, turning it
upside down, shook out the intruding cinders, put a clumsy
finger in to make sure they were all gone, then shyly,
(08:20):
tenderly passed his hand over the sole of the fine
silk stocking foot that rested so lightly on his knee,
to make sure no cinders clung to it. The sight
and touch of that little foot stirred him deeply. He
had never before been called upon to render service so
intimate to any woman, and he did it now with
half averted gaze and the utmost respect in his manner.
(08:44):
As he did it, he tried to speak about the morning,
the departing train, the annoying cinders, anything to make the
unusual position seem natural and unstrained. He felt deeply embarrassed,
the more so because of his own double part in
this queer masquerade. Celia sat watching him strangely, stirred her
(09:04):
wonder over his kindness grew with each moment, and her
prejudices almost dissolved. She could not understand it. There must
be something more he wanted of her, For George Hayne
had never been kind in the past. Unless he wanted
something of her, she dreaded, lest she should soon find
it out. Yet he did not look like a man
(09:24):
who was deceiving her. She drew a deep sigh. If
only it were true, and he were good and kind
and had never written those awful letters, how good and
dear it would be to be tenderly cared for this way.
Her lips drooped at the corners, and her eyelids drooped
in company with a sigh. Then Gordon looked up in
great distress. You are tired, he declared, pausing in his
(09:47):
attempt to fasten the little pearl buttons. I have been
cruel to let you get off the train. Indeed, I'm not,
said the girl, brightening with a sudden effort. At least
she would not spoil the kindness while it lasted. It
was surely better than what she had feared. You can
never button those shoes with your fingers, she laughed, as
he redoubled his efforts to capture a tiny disc of
(10:08):
pearl and set it into its small velvet socket. Here,
I have a button hook in my handbag. Try this.
She produced a small silver instrument from a gold link
bag on her arm and handed it to him. He
took it helplessly, trying first one end and then the other,
and succeeding with neither. Here let me show you, she laughed,
(10:30):
Pulling off one glove. Her white fingers grasped the silver
button hook and flashed in and out of the velvet holes,
knitting the little shoe to the foot in no time.
He watched the process in humble wonder, and she would
not have been a human girl not to have been
flattered with his interest in admiration. For the minute she
forgot who and what he was, and let her laugh
(10:51):
ring out merrily. And so with shy audacity he essayed
to take off the other shoe. They really felt quite
well acquainted, and as if they were gone going on
a day's picnic. When they finally gathered up their belongings
and started down the road, Gordon summoned all his ready
wit and intellect to brighten a walk for her. Though
he found himself again and again on the brink of
(11:13):
referring to his Washington life or some other personal matter
that would have brought a wondering question to her lips.
He had decided that he must not tell her who
he was until he could put her in an independent
position where she could get away from him at once
if she chose. He was bound to look after her
until he could place her in good hands, or at
least where she could look after herself, and it was
(11:36):
better to carry it out, leaving her to think what
she pleased, until he could tell her everything. If all
went well, they might be able to catch at Pittsburgh
train that night and be in Washington the next day. Then,
his message delivered, he would tell her the whole story.
Until then he must hold his peace. They went gaily
down the road, the girl's pale cheeks beginning to flush
(11:58):
with the morning and the exercise. She was not naturally delicate,
and her faint the night before had been the result
of a series of heavy strains on a heart burdened
with terrible fear. The morning and his kindness had made
her forget for the time that she was supposed to
be walking into a world of dread and sacrifice. The
years at the spring. The days at the morn, quoted
(12:21):
Gordon gaily, mornings at seven, the hillsides dew pearled. He
waved an umbrella off to where a hill flashed back
a thousand lights from its jeweled grass blades thickly set.
The larks on the wing, the snails on the thorn
went on, Celia, suddenly catching his spirit and pointing to
a lark that darted up into the blue. With the
(12:42):
trill of the morning in his throat, Gordon turned appreciative
eyes upon her. It was good to have her take
up his favorite poet in that tone of voice, a
tone that showed she too knew and loved Browning. God's
in his heaven, All's right with the world, finished Gordon
in a quiet a voice, looking straight into her eyes.
That seems very true to day, doesn't it. The blue
(13:05):
eyes waved with a hint of shadow in them as
they looked back into the brown ones. Almost perhaps, she
faltered wistfully. The young man wished he dared go behind
that almost perhaps and find out what she meant, but
concluded it were better to bring back the smile and
help her to forget for a little while, at least
(13:25):
down by the brook. They paused to rest under a
weeping willow whose green tinged plumes were dabbling in the brook.
Gordon arranged the suitcases for her to sit upon, then
climbed down to the brook side and gathered a great
bunch of forget me nots, blue as her eyes, and
brought them to her. She looked at them in wonder
to think they grew out here wild, untended. She had
(13:47):
never seen them before, except in pots in the flooris windows.
She touched them delicately with the tips of her fingers,
as if they were too ethereal for earth, then fastened
them in the breast of her gown. They exactly match
your eyes, he exclaimed involuntarily, and then wished he had
not spoken, for she flushed and paled under his glance,
(14:09):
until he felt he had been unduly bold. He wondered
why he had said that. He never had been in
the habit of saying pretty things to girls, but this
girl somehow called it from him. It was genuine. He
sat a moment, abashed, not knowing what to say next,
as if he were a shy boy, and she did
not help him, for her eyelashes drooped in a long
(14:30):
becoming sweep over her cheeks, and she seemed, for the
moment not to be able to carry off the situation.
He was not sure if she were displeased or not.
Her heart had thrilled strangely as he spoke, and she
was vexed with herself that it should be so. A
man who bullied and threatened her for three terrible months
(14:50):
and forced her to marry him had no right to
a thrill of her heart, nor a look from her eyes,
be he ever so kind for the moment, he certainly
was nice and pleasant when he chose to be. She
must watch herself, for never, never must she yield weakly
to his smooth overtures. Well did she know him? He
(15:10):
had some reason for all this pleasantness. It would surely
be revealed soon. She stiffened her lips and tried to
look away from him to the purply green hills. But
the echo of his words came upon her again and
again her heart thrilled at them. What if, oh, what
if he were all right and she might accept the
admiration in his voice? And yet how could that be possible?
(15:35):
The sweet color came into her cheeks again, and the
tears flew quickly to her eyes till they looked all
sky and dew, and she dared not turn back to him.
The silence remained unbroken until a lark in the willow
copse behind them burst forth into song and broke the
spell that was upon them. Are you offended at what
(15:55):
I said? He asked earnestly. I am sorry if you
did not like it. The word said themselves, without my
stopping to think whether you might not like it. Will
you forgive me? Oh, she said, lifting her forget me
not eyes to his. I am not offended. There is
nothing to forgive. It was beautiful. Then his eyes spoke
the compliment over again, and the thrill started anew in
(16:18):
her heart, till her cheeks grew quite rosy, and she
buried her face in the coolness of the tiny flowers
to hide her confusion. It was very true, he said,
in a low, loverlike voice that sounded like a caress.
Oughtn't we to hurry on to catch our train? Said Celia,
suddenly springing to her feet. I'm quite rested now, she felt.
(16:40):
If she stayed there another moment, she would yield to
the spell he had cast upon her. With a dull thought,
of consciousness. The man got himself to his feet and
reminded himself that this was another man's promised wife, to
whom he had been letting his soul go out. Don't
let anything hinder you. Don't let anything hinder you, suddenly
(17:02):
babbled out the little brook, and he gathered up his
suit cases and started on. I am going to carry
my suit case, declared a very decided voice behind him,
and a small hand seized hold of its handle. I
beg your pardon, you are not, declared Gordon, in a
much more determined voice. But they are too heavy for you,
both of them, and the umbrella too. She protested, give
(17:24):
me the umbrella then, but he would not give her
even the umbrella, rejoicing in his strength to shield her
and bear her burdens. As she walked beside him, she
remembered vividly a morning when George Hayne had made her
carry two heavy baskets that his hands might be free
to shoot birds. Could this be the same George Hayne? Altogether,
(17:46):
it was a happy walk, and far shorter than either
had expected it to be, though Gordon worried not a
little about his frail companion before they came to the
outskirts of the village and kept begging her to sit
down and rest again, but she would not. She was
quite eager and excited about the strange village to which
they were coming. Its outlying farmhouses were all so clean
(18:06):
and white, with green blinds folded placidly over their front
windows and only their back doors astir. The cows all
looked peaceful, and the dogs all seemed friendly. They walked
up the village street, shaded in patches with flecks of
sunshine through the young leaves. If any one had told
Celia Hathaway the night before that she would have walked
(18:27):
and talked thus to day with her bridegroom, she would
have laughed him to scorn. But now, all unconsciously, she
had drifted into an attitude of friendliness with the man
whom she had thought to hate all the rest of
her life. One long, straight, maple lined street, running parallel
to the stream, comprised the village. They walked to the
(18:47):
center of it and still saw no signs of a restaurant.
A post office, a couple of stores, and a bakery
made up the business portion of the town, and upon
enquiry it appeared that there was no public eating house,
the one hotel of the place having been sold at
auction the week before on account of the death of
the owner. The early village loungers stared disinterestedly at the
(19:10):
phenomenal appearance in their midst of a couple of city
folks with their luggage and no apparent means of transit
except there too delicately shod feet. It presented a problem
too grave to be solved unassisted, and there were solemn
shakings of the head over them. At last, one who
had discouragingly stated the village lack of a public inn,
(19:30):
asked casually he had a runaway. Oh no, laughed Gordon, pleasantly.
We didn't travel with horses. He had a puncture, then
announced the village wise acre, shifting from one foot to
the other. Well, you've come the wrong direction to get help,
said another languid listener. There ain't no garage here. The
(19:52):
feller WoT use it to keep it skipped out with
Samgald's wife a month ago. You'd ought to have turned
back to Ashville. The they got a good blacksmith. There
can tinky you'r up? Is that so? Said Gordon interestedly.
Well now that's too bad, But perhaps as it can't
be helped, we'll have to forget it. What's the next
town on ahead? And how far sugar Groves? Two miles
(20:15):
further on? In Milton's five they've got a garage in
a restaurant to Milton. But that's only since the railroad
built a junction. There has any one here a conveyance
I could hire to take us to Milton, questioned Gordon,
looking anxiously about the indolent group. I wouldn't want to
drive to Milton for less than five dollars, declared a
(20:37):
lazy youth. After a suitable pause, Very well, said Gordon.
How soon can you be ready? And what sort of
a rig have you? Will it be comfortable for the lady?
The youth eyed the graceful woman in her dainty city
dress scornfully. His own country lass was dressed far prettier
to his mind, But the eyes of her, so blue
like the little weed flowers at her breast, went to
(20:59):
his head. His tongue was suddenly tied. It's all right,
it's as good as you'll get, volunteered a sullen faced man,
half sitting on a sugar barrel. He was of a
type who preferred to see fashionable ladies uncomfortable. The youth
departed for his team, and after some enquiries, Gordon found
that he might be able to persuade the owner of
(21:19):
the tiny white colonial cottage across the street to prepare
a snack for himself and his companion. So they went
across the street and waited fifteen minutes in a dank,
little haircloth parlor adorned in funeral wreaths and knit tidies,
for a delicious breakfast of poached eggs, coffee, home made bread,
butter like roses, and a comb of the amber honey.
(21:42):
To each The experience was a new one, and they
enjoyed it together, like two children, letting their eyes speak
volumes of comments in the midst of the old lady's volubility.
Unconsciously by their experiences, they were being brought into sympathy
with each other. The rig, when it arrived at the door,
driven by the blushing youth, proved to be a high
(22:02):
spring wagon with two seats in the front. One the
youth lounged without a thought of assisting his passengers. Gordon
swung the baggage up and then lifted the girl into
the back seat, himself, taking the place beside her, and
planting a firm hand and arm behind the backless seat
that she might feel more secure. That ride with his
(22:22):
arm behind her was just one more link in the
pretty chain of sympathy that was being welded about these
two unconsciously. More and more she began to droop, until
when she grew very tired, he seemed to know at once,
just lean against my arm, he said, you must be
very tired, and it will help you bear the jolting.
He spoke as if his arm were made of wood
(22:44):
or iron and was merely one of his belongings, like
an umbrella or a suit case. He made it seem
quite the natural thing for her to lean against him.
If he had claimed it as her right and privilege
as wife, she would have recoiled from him for recalling
to her the hated relation, and would have sat straight
as a bean pole the rest of the way. But
as it was, she sank back a trifle deprecatingly, and
(23:08):
realized that it was a great help in her heart.
She thanked him for making it possible for her to
rest without entirely compromising her attitude toward him. There was
nothing about it that suggested anything loverlike. It seemed just
a calm and courtesy. Yet the strong arm almost trembled
as he felt the precious weight against it, and he
(23:29):
wished that the way were ten miles instead of five. Once,
as Celia leaned forward to point to a particularly lovely
bit of view that opened up. As they wound around
a curve in the road, they ran over a stone,
and the wagon gave an unexpected jolt. Gordon reached his
hand out to steady her, and she settled back to
his arm with a sense of safety and being cared
(23:50):
for that was very pleasant. Looking up shyly, she saw
his eyes upon her with that deep look of admiration
and something more, and again, that strange thrill of joy
that had come when he gave her the forget me
nots swept through her. She felt almost as if she
were horboring a sinful thought when she remembered the letters
(24:10):
he had written. But the joy of the day and
the sweetness of happiness for even a moment when she
had been for so long a time sad, was so
pleasant that she let herself enjoy it and drift, refusing
to think evil of him now here in this bright day. Thus,
like children on a picnic, they passed through Sugar Grove
(24:31):
and came to the town of Milton, and there they
bade their driver good bye, rewarding him with a crisp
five dollar bill. He drove home with a vision of
smiles and forget me not eyes, and a marked inability
to tell anything about his wonderful passengers, who had filled
the little village with awe and amazement, and had given
no clue to any one as to who or what
(24:54):
they were. End of Chapter nine.
Popular Podcasts
Spooky Podcasts from iHeartRadio
Whether you’re a scaredy-cat or a brave bat, this collection of episodes from iHeartPodcasts will put you in the Halloween spirit. Binge stories, frights, and more that may keep you up at night!
Dateline NBC
Current and classic episodes, featuring compelling true-crime mysteries, powerful documentaries and in-depth investigations. Follow now to get the latest episodes of Dateline NBC completely free, or subscribe to Dateline Premium for ad-free listening and exclusive bonus content: DatelinePremium.com
Stuff You Should Know
If you've ever wanted to know about champagne, satanism, the Stonewall Uprising, chaos theory, LSD, El Nino, true crime and Rosa Parks, then look no further. Josh and Chuck have you covered.