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Page 71
"Elizabeth!" he said, and came forward to grasp her hand. "I have found
you again. How came you here?"
But she had no opportunity to answer, for the ladies entered almost at
once, and there stood the two smiling at each other.
"Why, you have met before!" exclaimed the hostess. "How delighted I am! I
knew you two would enjoy meeting. Elizabeth, child, you never told me you
knew George."
George Benedict kept looking around for Miss Bailey to enter the room; but
to his relief she did not come, and, when they went out to the
dining-room, there was no place set for her. She must have preferred to
remain at home. He forgot her, and settled down to the joy of having
Elizabeth by his side. His mother, opposite, watched his face blossom into
the old-time joy as he handed this new girl the olives, and had eyes for
no one else.
It was to Elizabeth a blessed evening. They held sweet converse one with
another as children of the King. For a little time under the old influence
of the restful, helpful talk she forgot "the lady," and all the perplexing
questions that had vexed her soul. She knew only that she had entered into
an atmosphere of peace and love and joy.
It was not until the evening was over, and the guests were about to leave,
that Mrs. Benedict addressed Elizabeth as Miss Bailey. Up to that moment
it had not entered her son's mind that Miss Bailey was present at all. He
turned with a start, and looked into Elizabeth's eyes; and she smiled back
to him as if to acknowledge the name. Could she read his thoughts? he
wondered.
It was only a few steps across the Square, and Mrs. Benedict and her son
walked to Elizabeth's door with her. He had no opportunity to speak to
Elizabeth alone, but he said as he bade her good-night, "I shall see you
to-morrow, then, in the morning?"
The inflection was almost a question; but Elizabeth only said, "Good
night," and vanished into the house.
"Then you have met her before, George?" asked his mother wonderingly.
"Yes," he answered hurriedly, as if to stop her further question. "Yes, I
have met her before. She is very beautiful, mother."
And because the mother was afraid she might say too much she assented, and
held her peace. It was the first time in years that George had called a
girl beautiful.
Meantime Elizabeth had gone to her own room and locked the door. She
hardly knew what to think, her heart was so happy. Yet beneath it all was
the troubled thought of the lady, the haunting lady for whom they had
prayed together on the prairie. And as if to add to the thought she found
a bit of newspaper lying on the floor beside her dressing-table. Marie
must have dropped it as she came in to turn up the lights. It was nothing
but the corner torn from a newspaper, and should be consigned to the
waste-basket; yet her eye caught the words in large head-lines as she
picked it up idly, "Miss Geraldine Loring's Wedding to Be an Elaborate
Affair." There was nothing more readable. The paper was torn in a zigzag
line just beneath. Yet that was enough. It reminded her of her duty.
Down beside the bed she knelt, and prayed: "O my Father, hide me now; hide
me! I am in trouble; hide me!" Over and over she prayed till her heart
grew calm and she could think.
Then she sat down quietly, and put the matter before her.
This man whom she loved with her whole soul was to be married in a few
days. The world of society would be at the wedding. He was pledged to
another, and he was not hers. Yet he was her old friend, and was coming to
see her. If he came and looked into her face with those clear eyes of his,
he might read in hers that she loved him. How dreadful that would be!
Yes, she must search yet deeper. She had heard the glad ring in his voice
when he met her, and said, "Elizabeth!" She had seen his eyes. He was in
danger himself. She knew it; she might not hide it from herself. She must
help him to be true to the woman to whom he was pledged, whom now he would
have to marry.
She must go away from it all. She would run away, now at once. It seemed
that she was always running away from some one. She would go back to the
mountains where she had started. She was not afraid now of the man from
whom she had fled. Culture and education had done their work. Religion had
set her upon a rock. She could go back with the protection that her money
would put about her, with the companionship of some good, elderly woman,
and be safe from harm in that way; but she could not stay here and meet
George Benedict in the morning, nor face Geraldine Loring on her
wedding-day. It would be all the same the facing whether she were in the
wedding-party or not. Her days of mourning for her grandmother would of
course protect her from this public facing. It was the thought she could
not bear. She must get away from it all forever.
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