October 13, 2025 • 20 mins
10 - 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.
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter ten of the Best Man. This LibriVox recording is
in the public domain recording by Gale Mattern The Best
Man by Grace livingstone Hill, chapter ten. But to go
back to the pursuer in his berth. Baffled and frantic
and raging, with hands that fumbled because of their very eagerness,
(00:22):
he sought to get into his garments and find his
shoes from the melee of blankets and other articles in
the berth, all the time keeping one eye out of
the window, for he must not let his prey get
away from him. Now he must watch and see what
they were going to do. How fortunate that he had
wakened in time, for that at least he would have
a clue. Where was this a station? He stopped operations
(00:47):
once more to gaze off at the landscape, a desolate
country scene to his city hardened eyes, not a house
in sight, nor a station. The spires of the distant
village seemed like a mirage to him. This couldn't be
a station. What were those two doing down there? Anyway?
Dared he risk calling the conductor and having him hold them? No,
(01:10):
this affair must be kept absolutely quiet. Mister Holman had
said that if a breath of the matter came out,
it was worse than death for all concerned. He must
just get off this train as fast as he could
and follow them. If they were getting away, it might
be he could get the man in a lonely place.
It would be easy enough to watch his chance and
(01:31):
gag the lady. He had done such things before. He
felt far more at home in such an affair than
he had the night before at the Holeman dinner table.
What a pity one of the others had not come along.
It would be mere child's play for two to handle
those two, who looked as if they would turn frightened
at the first threat. However, he felt confident that he
(01:53):
could manage the affair alone. He panted with haste, and
succeeded in getting the wrong legs into his trousers and
having to begin all over again, his efforts greatly hampered
by the necessity for watching out the window. Then came
the distant rumble of an oncoming train and an answering
scream from his own engine. The two on the ground
(02:14):
had crossed quickly over the second track and were looking
down the steep embankment. Were they going down there? What
fate that he was not ready to follow them. At once,
the train that was coming would pass, their own would start,
and he could not get out. His opportunity was going
from him, and he could not find his shoes. Well,
(02:35):
what of it he would go without? What were shoes
in a time like this? Surely he could get along
barefoot and beg a pair at some farmhouse, or buy
a pair at a country's store. He must get out
at any cost, shoes or no shoes. Grasping his coat,
which contained his money and valuables, he sprang from his
berth straight into the arms of the porter, who was
(02:58):
hurrying back to his car after having been out to
gossip with a brakeman over the delay. What's the matter, sir,
asked the astonished porter, rallying quickly from the shock and
assuming his habitual courtesy. My shoes, roared the irate traveler.
What have you done with my shoes? Quiet sah, Please, sir,
(03:18):
you wake the whole car, said the porter. I put
your shoes under the berth, sir, right where I always
put them. After blacken, Sir, the porter stooped and extracted
the shoes from beneath the curtain, and the traveler, whose
experience in pullments was small, grabbed them furiously and made
for the door, shoes in hand, for with a snort
(03:38):
and a lurch and a preliminary jar, the train had
taken up its motion, and a loud rushing outside proclaimed
that the other train was passing. The porter, feeling that
he had been treated with injustice, stood gazing reproachfully after
the man for a full minute before he followed him
to tell him that the washroom was at the other
(03:58):
end of the car, not down past the drawing room,
as he evidently supposed. He found his man standing in
stalking feet on the cold iron platform, his head out
of the opening left in the vestibuled train, for when
the porter came in, he had drawn shut the outer
door and slammed down the movable platform, making it impossible
(04:20):
for anyone to get out. There was only the little
opening the size of a window above the grating guard,
and the man clung to it as if he would
jump over it if only he dared. He was looking
back over the track, and his face was not good
to see. He turned wildly upon the porter. I want
you to stop this train and let me off, he shouted,
(04:41):
I've lost something valuable back there on the track. Stop
the train quick, I tell you, or I'll sue the railroad.
What was it you lost, asked the porter respectfully. He
wasn't sure, but the man was half asleep. Yet it
was a mu why it? It was a very valuable paper,
means a fortune to me and several other people. And
(05:02):
I must go back and get it. Stop the train,
I tell you at once, or I'll jump out. I
can't stop the train, sir. You'll have to see the conductor,
sir about that. But I suspects this mighty little prospector
gettin this train stop foe gets to its destinations, sir.
We's one hour ahind time now, sir, and he's got
(05:23):
a make up foe. He gets to Buffalo. The excited
passenger railed and stormed until several sleepers were awakened and
stuck curious sleepy countenances out from the curtains of their berths.
But the porter was obdurate and would not take any
measures to stop the train, nor even call the conductor,
until the passenger promised to return quietly to his berth.
(05:46):
The thick set man was not used to obeying, but
he saw he was only hindering himself, and finally hurried
back to his berth, where he hastily parted the curtains,
craning his neck to see back along the track and
over the green valley, growing smaller and smaller. Now in
the distance, he could just make out two moving specks
on the white, winding ribbon of the road. He felt
(06:09):
sure he knew the direction they were taking. If he
only could get off that train, he could easily catch them,
for they would have no idea he was coming and
would take no precautions. If he had only wakened a
few seconds sooner, he would have been following them even
now fully ten minutes. He argued with the conductor, showing
(06:29):
a wide incongruity between his language and his gentlemanly attire,
But the conductor would do nothing, but promised to set
him down at a water tower ten miles ahead, where
they had to slow up for water. He said, sue
or no sue. He had his orders, and the thickset
man did not inspire him, either to sympathy or confidence.
(06:51):
The conductor had been many years on the road and
generally knew when to stop his train and when to
let it go on sullenly, the thicks Man accepted the
conductor's decision and prepared to leave the train at the
water tower, his eye out for the landmarks along the
way as he completed his hasty toilet. He was in
no pleasant frame of mind, having missed a goodly amount
(07:13):
of his accustomed stimulants the night before, and seeing little
prospect of either stimulants or breakfast before him. He was
not built for a ten mile walk over the cinders,
and his flabby muscles already ached at the prospect. But then,
of course he would not have to go far before
he found an automobile or some kind of conveyance to
(07:33):
help him on his way. He looked eagerly from the
window for indications of garages or stables, but the river
wound its silver way among the gray green willow fringes
and the new grass, shone a placid emerald plane, with
nothing more human than a few cows grazing here and there,
not even a horse that might be borrowed without his
(07:55):
owners and knowledge. It was a strange, forsaken spot, ten
whole miles and no sign of any public livery. Off
to the right and left he could see villages, but
they were, most of them too far away from the
track to help him any It began to look as
if he must just foot it all the way now.
And then a small shanty or tiny dwelling whizzed by
(08:16):
near at hand, but nothing that would relieve his situation.
It occurred to him to go into the dining car
for breakfast, but even as he thought of it, the
conductor told him that the train would stop in two minutes,
and he must be ready to get off, for they
did not stop long. He certainly looked a harmless creature,
that thick set man as he stood alone upon the
(08:39):
cinder elevation and surveyed the landscape ore ten miles from
his quarry, alone on a stretch of endless ties and rails,
with a gleaming river mocking him down in the valley
and a laughing sky jeering overhead. He started down the
shining track, his temper erec his mind, and chaos his
(08:59):
soul at war with the world. The worst of it
all was that the whole fault was his own for
going to sleep. He began to fear that he had
lost his chance. Then he set his ugly jar and
strode ahead. The morning sun poured down upon the thickset
man on his pilgrimage, and waxed hotter until noon. Trains
(09:20):
whizzed mercilessly by and gave him no silcar Weary, faint,
and fiercely thirsty, he came at last to the spot
where he was satisfied his quarry had escaped. He could
see the marks of their rough descent in the steep
cinder bank, and, essaying the same himself, came upon a
shred of purple silk, caught on a bramble at the foot.
(09:43):
Puffing and panting, bruised and footsore, he sat down at
the very place where Celia had stopped to have her
shoes fastened, and mopped his purple brow. But there was
triumph in his ugly eye, and after a few moments rest,
he trudged onward. That town over there ought to yield
both conveyance and food, as well as information concerning those
(10:05):
he sought. He would catch them. They could never get
away from him. He was on their track again, though
hours behind. He would get them yet, and no man
should take his reward from him. Almost spent, he came
at last to the village and ate a surprisingly large
dish of beef and vegetable stew at the quaint little
(10:26):
house where Celia and Gordon had breakfasted, But the old
lady who served it to them was shy about talking,
and though admitting that a couple of people had been
there that morning, she was noncommittal about their appearance. They
might have been young and good looking and worn feathers
in their hats, and they might not. She wasn't one
for noticing people's appearance. If they treated her civilly and
(10:49):
paid their bills, would he have another cup of coffee?
He would, and also two more pieces of pie, But
he got very little further information. It was over at
the corner store where he finally went in search of
something stronger than coffee, that he further pursued his investigations.
The loungers were still there. It was their only business
(11:12):
in life, and they were most diligent in it. They
eyed the newcomer with a relish and settled back on
their various barrels and boxes to enjoy whatever entertainment the
gods were about to provide to relieve their monotonous existence.
A house divided against itself cannot stand this man's elegant
garments assumed for the nonce did not fit the rest
(11:34):
of his general appearance, which had been accentuated by his long, hot,
dusty tramp. The high evening hat was jammed on the
back of his head and bore a decided dent where
it had rolled down the cinder embankment. His collar was
wilted and lifeless, his white launder tie at half mast,
his coat awry, and his fine patent leather shoes, which
(11:55):
pinched were covered with dust and had caused a limp
like the artists tramp upon the road. Moreover, the speech
of the man betrayed him, and the keen minded old
gossips who were watching him suspiciously sized him up at once.
The minute he opened his mouth saw anything of a
couple of young folks walking down this way, he inquired, casually,
(12:18):
pausing to light a cigar with which he was reinforcing
himself for further travel. One man allowed that there might
have passed such people that day. He hardly seemed willing
to commit himself, but another vow shaped the information that
Joe he had drove two parties of that description to Milton.
This mornin' Jess got back maybe he could answer Firham.
(12:40):
Joe frowned. He did not like the looks of the
thickset man. He still remembered to forget me not eyes.
But the stranger made instant request to be driven to Milton,
offering ten dollars for the same. When he found that
his driver was reluctant and that Milton was a railroad center,
a few keen questions had made him sure that his
(13:00):
man had gone to Milton. Joe haggled aloud, his horse
was tired and he didn't care about the trip twice
in one day, but finally agreed to take the man
for fifteen dollars and sauntered off to get a fresh horse.
He had no mind to be in a hurry. He
had his own opinion about letting those two parties get
out of the way before the third put in an appearance,
(13:22):
but he had no mind to lose the fifteen dollars.
It would help to buy the ring he coveted for
his girl. In due time. Joe rode leisurely up, and
the impatient traveler climbed into the high spring wagon and
was driven away from the apathetic gaze of the country
loungers who unblinkingly took in the fact that Joe was
headed toward Ashville and evidently intended taking his fear to
(13:46):
Milton by way of that village, a thirty mile drive.
At least the man would get the worth of his
money and ride. A grim twinkle sat near several eyes
as the spring wagon turned the curve in the road
and was lost to sight, And after doe silence, an
old stager spoke, Do you reckon that that was their chauffeur?
He requested languidly, Nah, replied a farmer's son, vigorously. He
(14:12):
wouldn't try to chouf all dulled up like that. He's
the rich dad comin after the runaways. Joe don't intend
he shall get em awhile yet, I reckon the ceremony'll
be over before he steps in to interfere. This lad
went twice a month to Milton to the movies, and
was regarded as an authority on matters of romance. A
(14:33):
pause showed that his theory had taken root in the
minds of his auditors. Well, I reckon, Joe thinks the
longest way round is the shortest way home, declared the
old stager. Joe never did like them codfish swells. But
how do you count for the style of that gal.
She won't like her dad one little bit. Oh she's
(14:55):
been to college, I suppose, declared the youth. They get
all that offen college, sirs the old man, right for
sending his gal to a fool college when she ought
to a been home learnin' to housekeep. I hope she
gets off with her young man, all right, said a
grim old lounger, and a cackle of laughter went round
the group, which presently broke up, for this had been
(15:18):
a strenuous day and all felt their need of rest. Besides,
they wanted to get home and tell the news before
some neighbor got ahead of them. All this time, Celia
and Gordon were touring Milton, serenely, unconscious of danger near
or Guardian Angel of the name Joe Investigation disclosed the
fact that there was a train for Pittsburgh. About three
(15:40):
in the afternoon, Gordon sent a code telegram to his chief,
assuring him of the safety of the message and of
his own intention to proceed to Washington as fast as
steam could carry him. Then he took the girl to
a restaurant where they mounted two high stools and partook
with an unusually ravenous appetite of nearly everything on the
(16:01):
menu corn soup, roast, beef, baked trout, stewed tomatoes, coalslaw, custard, apple,
and mince pies, with a cup of good country coffee
and real cream, all for twenty five cents apiece. It
was a very merry meal. Celia felt somehow, as if
for the time all memory of the past had been
(16:23):
taken from her, and she were free to think and
act happily in the present, without any great problems to
solve or decisions to make. Just two young people off
having a good time. They were, at least until that
afternoon train came. After their dinner, they took a short
walk to a tiny park where two white ducks disported
(16:44):
themselves on a seven x nine pond spanned by a
rustic bridge where lovers had cut their initials. Gordon took
out his knife and idly cut c h in the
rough bark of the upper rail, while his companion sat
on the little board seat and watched him him. She
was pondering over the fact that he had cut her
initials and not his own. It would have been like
(17:06):
the George of old to cut his own and never
once think of hers. And he had put but one H.
Probably thought of her now as Celia Hayne, without the
Hathaway or else. He was so used to writing her
name Celia Hathaway, that he was not thinking at all.
Those letters, how they haunted her and clouded every bright
(17:28):
experience that she fain would have grasped and held. For
a little hour. They were silent now while he worked,
and she thought he had finished the C H and
was cutting another sea. But instead of making another H,
he carefully carved out the letter G. What was that for?
C G? Who was c G? Oh? How stupid George.
(17:51):
Of course he had started to see by mistake, but
he did not add the expected H. Instead, he snapped
his neck shut, laid his hand over the carving, and
leaned over the rail. Sometime, perhaps we'll come here again
and remember, he said, And then bethought him that he
had no right to hope for any such anniversary. Oh,
(18:16):
she looked up into his eyes, startled, troubled the haunting
of her fears in the shadows of the blue. He
looked down into them and read her trouble, read and understood,
and looked back his great desire to comfort her. His
look carried further than he meant it should. For the
third time that day, a thrill of wonder and delight
(18:38):
passed over her and left her fearful with the strange
joy that she felt she should put from her. It
was only an instant, that look, but it brought the
bright color to both faces and made Gordon feel the
immediate necessity of changing the subject. See those little fishes
down there, he said, pointing to the tiny lake below them,
(18:58):
through a blur of tears. The girl looked down and
saw the tiny, sharp finned creatures darting here and there
in a beam of sun, like a small searchlight. Set
to show them off, she moved her hand on the
rail to lean further over, and her soft fingers touched
his hand for a moment. She would not draw them
away quickly, lest she hurt him. Why she did not know,
(19:22):
but she could not. Would not hurt him, not Now
The two hands lay side by side for a full minute,
and the touch to Gordon was as if a rose
leaf had kissed his soul. He had never felt anything sweeter.
He longed to gather the little hand into his clasp
and feel its pulses trembling there as he had felt
(19:42):
it in the church the night before. But she was
not his. He would not touch her till she had
had her choice of what to do, and she would
never choose him, never when she knew how he had
deceived her. That one supreme moment they had of perfect consciousness,
consciousness of the drawing of soul to soul, of the
(20:03):
sweetness of that hovering touch of hands, of the longing
to know and understand each other. Then a sharp whistle sounded,
and a farmer's boy with a new rake and a
sack of corn on his shoulder, came sauntering briskly down
the road to the bridge. Instantly they drew apart, and
Celia felt that she had been on the verge of
disloyalty to her true self. They walked silently back to
(20:27):
the station, each busy with his own thoughts, each conscious
of that one moment when the other had come so
near end of Chapter ten
Chapter ten of the Best Man. This LibriVox recording is
in the public domain recording by Gale Mattern The Best
Man by Grace livingstone Hill, chapter ten. But to go
back to the pursuer in his berth. Baffled and frantic
and raging, with hands that fumbled because of their very eagerness,
(00:22):
he sought to get into his garments and find his
shoes from the melee of blankets and other articles in
the berth, all the time keeping one eye out of
the window, for he must not let his prey get
away from him. Now he must watch and see what
they were going to do. How fortunate that he had
wakened in time, for that at least he would have
a clue. Where was this a station? He stopped operations
(00:47):
once more to gaze off at the landscape, a desolate
country scene to his city hardened eyes, not a house
in sight, nor a station. The spires of the distant
village seemed like a mirage to him. This couldn't be
a station. What were those two doing down there? Anyway?
Dared he risk calling the conductor and having him hold them? No,
(01:10):
this affair must be kept absolutely quiet. Mister Holman had
said that if a breath of the matter came out,
it was worse than death for all concerned. He must
just get off this train as fast as he could
and follow them. If they were getting away, it might
be he could get the man in a lonely place.
It would be easy enough to watch his chance and
(01:31):
gag the lady. He had done such things before. He
felt far more at home in such an affair than
he had the night before at the Holeman dinner table.
What a pity one of the others had not come along.
It would be mere child's play for two to handle
those two, who looked as if they would turn frightened
at the first threat. However, he felt confident that he
(01:53):
could manage the affair alone. He panted with haste, and
succeeded in getting the wrong legs into his trousers and
having to begin all over again, his efforts greatly hampered
by the necessity for watching out the window. Then came
the distant rumble of an oncoming train and an answering
scream from his own engine. The two on the ground
(02:14):
had crossed quickly over the second track and were looking
down the steep embankment. Were they going down there? What
fate that he was not ready to follow them. At once,
the train that was coming would pass, their own would start,
and he could not get out. His opportunity was going
from him, and he could not find his shoes. Well,
(02:35):
what of it he would go without? What were shoes
in a time like this? Surely he could get along
barefoot and beg a pair at some farmhouse, or buy
a pair at a country's store. He must get out
at any cost, shoes or no shoes. Grasping his coat,
which contained his money and valuables, he sprang from his
berth straight into the arms of the porter, who was
(02:58):
hurrying back to his car after having been out to
gossip with a brakeman over the delay. What's the matter, sir,
asked the astonished porter, rallying quickly from the shock and
assuming his habitual courtesy. My shoes, roared the irate traveler.
What have you done with my shoes? Quiet sah, Please, sir,
(03:18):
you wake the whole car, said the porter. I put
your shoes under the berth, sir, right where I always
put them. After blacken, Sir, the porter stooped and extracted
the shoes from beneath the curtain, and the traveler, whose
experience in pullments was small, grabbed them furiously and made
for the door, shoes in hand, for with a snort
(03:38):
and a lurch and a preliminary jar, the train had
taken up its motion, and a loud rushing outside proclaimed
that the other train was passing. The porter, feeling that
he had been treated with injustice, stood gazing reproachfully after
the man for a full minute before he followed him
to tell him that the washroom was at the other
(03:58):
end of the car, not down past the drawing room,
as he evidently supposed. He found his man standing in
stalking feet on the cold iron platform, his head out
of the opening left in the vestibuled train, for when
the porter came in, he had drawn shut the outer
door and slammed down the movable platform, making it impossible
(04:20):
for anyone to get out. There was only the little
opening the size of a window above the grating guard,
and the man clung to it as if he would
jump over it if only he dared. He was looking
back over the track, and his face was not good
to see. He turned wildly upon the porter. I want
you to stop this train and let me off, he shouted,
(04:41):
I've lost something valuable back there on the track. Stop
the train quick, I tell you, or I'll sue the railroad.
What was it you lost, asked the porter respectfully. He
wasn't sure, but the man was half asleep. Yet it
was a mu why it? It was a very valuable paper,
means a fortune to me and several other people. And
(05:02):
I must go back and get it. Stop the train,
I tell you at once, or I'll jump out. I
can't stop the train, sir. You'll have to see the conductor,
sir about that. But I suspects this mighty little prospector
gettin this train stop foe gets to its destinations, sir.
We's one hour ahind time now, sir, and he's got
(05:23):
a make up foe. He gets to Buffalo. The excited
passenger railed and stormed until several sleepers were awakened and
stuck curious sleepy countenances out from the curtains of their berths.
But the porter was obdurate and would not take any
measures to stop the train, nor even call the conductor,
until the passenger promised to return quietly to his berth.
(05:46):
The thick set man was not used to obeying, but
he saw he was only hindering himself, and finally hurried
back to his berth, where he hastily parted the curtains,
craning his neck to see back along the track and
over the green valley, growing smaller and smaller. Now in
the distance, he could just make out two moving specks
on the white, winding ribbon of the road. He felt
(06:09):
sure he knew the direction they were taking. If he
only could get off that train, he could easily catch them,
for they would have no idea he was coming and
would take no precautions. If he had only wakened a
few seconds sooner, he would have been following them even
now fully ten minutes. He argued with the conductor, showing
(06:29):
a wide incongruity between his language and his gentlemanly attire,
But the conductor would do nothing, but promised to set
him down at a water tower ten miles ahead, where
they had to slow up for water. He said, sue
or no sue. He had his orders, and the thickset
man did not inspire him, either to sympathy or confidence.
(06:51):
The conductor had been many years on the road and
generally knew when to stop his train and when to
let it go on sullenly, the thicks Man accepted the
conductor's decision and prepared to leave the train at the
water tower, his eye out for the landmarks along the
way as he completed his hasty toilet. He was in
no pleasant frame of mind, having missed a goodly amount
(07:13):
of his accustomed stimulants the night before, and seeing little
prospect of either stimulants or breakfast before him. He was
not built for a ten mile walk over the cinders,
and his flabby muscles already ached at the prospect. But then,
of course he would not have to go far before
he found an automobile or some kind of conveyance to
(07:33):
help him on his way. He looked eagerly from the
window for indications of garages or stables, but the river
wound its silver way among the gray green willow fringes
and the new grass, shone a placid emerald plane, with
nothing more human than a few cows grazing here and there,
not even a horse that might be borrowed without his
(07:55):
owners and knowledge. It was a strange, forsaken spot, ten
whole miles and no sign of any public livery. Off
to the right and left he could see villages, but
they were, most of them too far away from the
track to help him any It began to look as
if he must just foot it all the way now.
And then a small shanty or tiny dwelling whizzed by
(08:16):
near at hand, but nothing that would relieve his situation.
It occurred to him to go into the dining car
for breakfast, but even as he thought of it, the
conductor told him that the train would stop in two minutes,
and he must be ready to get off, for they
did not stop long. He certainly looked a harmless creature,
that thick set man as he stood alone upon the
(08:39):
cinder elevation and surveyed the landscape ore ten miles from
his quarry, alone on a stretch of endless ties and rails,
with a gleaming river mocking him down in the valley
and a laughing sky jeering overhead. He started down the
shining track, his temper erec his mind, and chaos his
(08:59):
soul at war with the world. The worst of it
all was that the whole fault was his own for
going to sleep. He began to fear that he had
lost his chance. Then he set his ugly jar and
strode ahead. The morning sun poured down upon the thickset
man on his pilgrimage, and waxed hotter until noon. Trains
(09:20):
whizzed mercilessly by and gave him no silcar Weary, faint,
and fiercely thirsty, he came at last to the spot
where he was satisfied his quarry had escaped. He could
see the marks of their rough descent in the steep
cinder bank, and, essaying the same himself, came upon a
shred of purple silk, caught on a bramble at the foot.
(09:43):
Puffing and panting, bruised and footsore, he sat down at
the very place where Celia had stopped to have her
shoes fastened, and mopped his purple brow. But there was
triumph in his ugly eye, and after a few moments rest,
he trudged onward. That town over there ought to yield
both conveyance and food, as well as information concerning those
(10:05):
he sought. He would catch them. They could never get
away from him. He was on their track again, though
hours behind. He would get them yet, and no man
should take his reward from him. Almost spent, he came
at last to the village and ate a surprisingly large
dish of beef and vegetable stew at the quaint little
(10:26):
house where Celia and Gordon had breakfasted, But the old
lady who served it to them was shy about talking,
and though admitting that a couple of people had been
there that morning, she was noncommittal about their appearance. They
might have been young and good looking and worn feathers
in their hats, and they might not. She wasn't one
for noticing people's appearance. If they treated her civilly and
(10:49):
paid their bills, would he have another cup of coffee?
He would, and also two more pieces of pie, But
he got very little further information. It was over at
the corner store where he finally went in search of
something stronger than coffee, that he further pursued his investigations.
The loungers were still there. It was their only business
(11:12):
in life, and they were most diligent in it. They
eyed the newcomer with a relish and settled back on
their various barrels and boxes to enjoy whatever entertainment the
gods were about to provide to relieve their monotonous existence.
A house divided against itself cannot stand this man's elegant
garments assumed for the nonce did not fit the rest
(11:34):
of his general appearance, which had been accentuated by his long, hot,
dusty tramp. The high evening hat was jammed on the
back of his head and bore a decided dent where
it had rolled down the cinder embankment. His collar was
wilted and lifeless, his white launder tie at half mast,
his coat awry, and his fine patent leather shoes, which
(11:55):
pinched were covered with dust and had caused a limp
like the artists tramp upon the road. Moreover, the speech
of the man betrayed him, and the keen minded old
gossips who were watching him suspiciously sized him up at once.
The minute he opened his mouth saw anything of a
couple of young folks walking down this way, he inquired, casually,
(12:18):
pausing to light a cigar with which he was reinforcing
himself for further travel. One man allowed that there might
have passed such people that day. He hardly seemed willing
to commit himself, but another vow shaped the information that
Joe he had drove two parties of that description to Milton.
This mornin' Jess got back maybe he could answer Firham.
(12:40):
Joe frowned. He did not like the looks of the
thickset man. He still remembered to forget me not eyes.
But the stranger made instant request to be driven to Milton,
offering ten dollars for the same. When he found that
his driver was reluctant and that Milton was a railroad center,
a few keen questions had made him sure that his
(13:00):
man had gone to Milton. Joe haggled aloud, his horse
was tired and he didn't care about the trip twice
in one day, but finally agreed to take the man
for fifteen dollars and sauntered off to get a fresh horse.
He had no mind to be in a hurry. He
had his own opinion about letting those two parties get
out of the way before the third put in an appearance,
(13:22):
but he had no mind to lose the fifteen dollars.
It would help to buy the ring he coveted for
his girl. In due time. Joe rode leisurely up, and
the impatient traveler climbed into the high spring wagon and
was driven away from the apathetic gaze of the country
loungers who unblinkingly took in the fact that Joe was
headed toward Ashville and evidently intended taking his fear to
(13:46):
Milton by way of that village, a thirty mile drive.
At least the man would get the worth of his
money and ride. A grim twinkle sat near several eyes
as the spring wagon turned the curve in the road
and was lost to sight, And after doe silence, an
old stager spoke, Do you reckon that that was their chauffeur?
He requested languidly, Nah, replied a farmer's son, vigorously. He
(14:12):
wouldn't try to chouf all dulled up like that. He's
the rich dad comin after the runaways. Joe don't intend
he shall get em awhile yet, I reckon the ceremony'll
be over before he steps in to interfere. This lad
went twice a month to Milton to the movies, and
was regarded as an authority on matters of romance. A
(14:33):
pause showed that his theory had taken root in the
minds of his auditors. Well, I reckon, Joe thinks the
longest way round is the shortest way home, declared the
old stager. Joe never did like them codfish swells. But
how do you count for the style of that gal.
She won't like her dad one little bit. Oh she's
(14:55):
been to college, I suppose, declared the youth. They get
all that offen college, sirs the old man, right for
sending his gal to a fool college when she ought
to a been home learnin' to housekeep. I hope she
gets off with her young man, all right, said a
grim old lounger, and a cackle of laughter went round
the group, which presently broke up, for this had been
(15:18):
a strenuous day and all felt their need of rest. Besides,
they wanted to get home and tell the news before
some neighbor got ahead of them. All this time, Celia
and Gordon were touring Milton, serenely, unconscious of danger near
or Guardian Angel of the name Joe Investigation disclosed the
fact that there was a train for Pittsburgh. About three
(15:40):
in the afternoon, Gordon sent a code telegram to his chief,
assuring him of the safety of the message and of
his own intention to proceed to Washington as fast as
steam could carry him. Then he took the girl to
a restaurant where they mounted two high stools and partook
with an unusually ravenous appetite of nearly everything on the
(16:01):
menu corn soup, roast, beef, baked trout, stewed tomatoes, coalslaw, custard, apple,
and mince pies, with a cup of good country coffee
and real cream, all for twenty five cents apiece. It
was a very merry meal. Celia felt somehow, as if
for the time all memory of the past had been
(16:23):
taken from her, and she were free to think and
act happily in the present, without any great problems to
solve or decisions to make. Just two young people off
having a good time. They were, at least until that
afternoon train came. After their dinner, they took a short
walk to a tiny park where two white ducks disported
(16:44):
themselves on a seven x nine pond spanned by a
rustic bridge where lovers had cut their initials. Gordon took
out his knife and idly cut c h in the
rough bark of the upper rail, while his companion sat
on the little board seat and watched him him. She
was pondering over the fact that he had cut her
initials and not his own. It would have been like
(17:06):
the George of old to cut his own and never
once think of hers. And he had put but one H.
Probably thought of her now as Celia Hayne, without the
Hathaway or else. He was so used to writing her
name Celia Hathaway, that he was not thinking at all.
Those letters, how they haunted her and clouded every bright
(17:28):
experience that she fain would have grasped and held. For
a little hour. They were silent now while he worked,
and she thought he had finished the C H and
was cutting another sea. But instead of making another H,
he carefully carved out the letter G. What was that for?
C G? Who was c G? Oh? How stupid George.
(17:51):
Of course he had started to see by mistake, but
he did not add the expected H. Instead, he snapped
his neck shut, laid his hand over the carving, and
leaned over the rail. Sometime, perhaps we'll come here again
and remember, he said, And then bethought him that he
had no right to hope for any such anniversary. Oh,
(18:16):
she looked up into his eyes, startled, troubled the haunting
of her fears in the shadows of the blue. He
looked down into them and read her trouble, read and understood,
and looked back his great desire to comfort her. His
look carried further than he meant it should. For the
third time that day, a thrill of wonder and delight
(18:38):
passed over her and left her fearful with the strange
joy that she felt she should put from her. It
was only an instant, that look, but it brought the
bright color to both faces and made Gordon feel the
immediate necessity of changing the subject. See those little fishes
down there, he said, pointing to the tiny lake below them,
(18:58):
through a blur of tears. The girl looked down and
saw the tiny, sharp finned creatures darting here and there
in a beam of sun, like a small searchlight. Set
to show them off, she moved her hand on the
rail to lean further over, and her soft fingers touched
his hand for a moment. She would not draw them
away quickly, lest she hurt him. Why she did not know,
(19:22):
but she could not. Would not hurt him, not Now
The two hands lay side by side for a full minute,
and the touch to Gordon was as if a rose
leaf had kissed his soul. He had never felt anything sweeter.
He longed to gather the little hand into his clasp
and feel its pulses trembling there as he had felt
(19:42):
it in the church the night before. But she was
not his. He would not touch her till she had
had her choice of what to do, and she would
never choose him, never when she knew how he had
deceived her. That one supreme moment they had of perfect consciousness,
consciousness of the drawing of soul to soul, of the
(20:03):
sweetness of that hovering touch of hands, of the longing
to know and understand each other. Then a sharp whistle sounded,
and a farmer's boy with a new rake and a
sack of corn on his shoulder, came sauntering briskly down
the road to the bridge. Instantly they drew apart, and
Celia felt that she had been on the verge of
disloyalty to her true self. They walked silently back to
(20:27):
the station, each busy with his own thoughts, each conscious
of that one moment when the other had come so
near end of Chapter ten
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