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Page 73
The young man sprang into the seat, and gasped: "West Philadelphia
station, Chicago Limited! Hurry! Train leaves Broad Street station at
nine-fifty. Get me there if you can, Billy. I'll be your friend forever."
By this time they were speeding fast. Neither of the two had time to
consider which station was the easier to make; and, as the machine was
headed toward West Philadelphia, on they went, regardless of laws or
vainly shouting policemen.
George Benedict sprang from the car before it had stopped, and nearly fell
again. His nerves were not steady from his other fall yet. He tore into
the station and out through the passageway past the beckoning hand of the
ticket-man who sat in the booth at the staircase, and strode up three
steps at a time. The guard shouted: "Hurry! You may get it; she's just
starting!" and a friendly hand reached out, and hauled him up on the
platform of the last car.
For an instant after he was safely in the car he was too dazed to think.
It seemed as if he must keep on blindly rushing through that train all the
way to Chicago, or she would get away from him. He sat down in an empty
seat for a minute to get his senses. He was actually on the train! It had
not gone without him!
Now the next question was, Was she on it herself, or had she in some way
slipped from his grasp even yet? The old butler might have caught her by
telephone. He doubted it. He knew her stubborn determination, and all at
once he began to suspect that she was with intention running away from
him, and perhaps had been doing so before! It was an astonishing thought
and a grave one, yet, if it were true, what had meant that welcoming smile
in her eyes that had been like dear sunshine to his heart?
But there was no time to consider such questions now. He had started on
this quest, and he must continue it until he found her. Then she should be
made to explain once and for all most fully. He would live through no more
torturing agonies of separation without a full understanding of the
matter. He got upon his shaking feet, and started to hunt for Elizabeth.
Then all at once he became aware that he was still carrying the box of
flowers. Battered and out of shape it was, but he was holding it as if it
held the very hope of life for him. He smiled grimly as he tottered
shakily down the aisle, grasping his floral offering with determination.
This was not exactly the morning call he had planned, nor the way he had
expected to present his flowers; but it seemed to be the best he could do.
Then, at last, in the very furthest car from the end, in the drawing-room
he found her, sitting gray and sorrowful, looking at the fast-flying
landscape.
"Elizabeth!" He stood in the open door and called to her; and she started
as from a deep sleep, her face blazing into glad sunshine at sight of him.
She put her hand to her heart, and smiled.
"I have brought you some flowers," he said grimly. "I am afraid there
isn't much left of them now; but, such as they are, they are here. I hope
you will accept them."
"Oh!" gasped Elizabeth, reaching out for the poor crushed roses as if they
had been a little child in danger. She drew them from the battered box and
to her arms with a delicious movement of caressing, as if she would make
up to them for all they had come through. He watched her, half pleased,
half savagely. Why should all that tenderness be wasted on mere fading
flowers?
At last he spoke, interrupting her brooding over his roses.
"You are running away from me!" he charged.
"Well, and what if I am?" She looked at him with a loving defiance in her
eyes.
"Don't you know I love you?" he asked, sitting down beside her and talking
low and almost fiercely. "Don't you know I've been torn away from you, or
you from me, twice before now, and that I cannot stand it any more? Say,
don't you know it? Answer, please," The demand was kind, but peremptory.
"I was afraid so," she murmured with drooping eyes, and cheeks from which
all color had fled.
"Well, why do you do it? Why did you run away? Don't you care for me? Tell
me that. If you can't ever love me, you are excusable; but I must know it
all now."
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