The Beloved Stranger

Chapter 5




Sherrill led her white bride through the two middle rooms again, hurriedly, silently, remembering with sharp thrills of pain all that had happened earlier in the evening. She dreaded intensely the moment when they two would be shut in together again. One would have to say something. One could not be absolutely silent, and somehow her tongue felt heavy, and her brain refused to think.

But Gemmie was there! Dear Gemmie! Ah! She had forgotten Gemmie! What a relief! Gemmie with her most professional air of dignity.

The frightened little bride did not feel relief, however, at her presence. She faltered at the doorway and gave Sherrill a pitiful look of protest. Sherrill drew her inside and fastened the door, feeling suddenly an infinite pity for this girl among strangers in a role that belonged to another.

“Oh, here is Gemmie!” she said gently. “She will help you off with the veil and dress. Gemmie knows how to do it without mussing your hair.”

Arla submitted herself to Gemmie’s ministrations, and Sherrill hovered about, looking over the neatly packed suitcase and the great white box that Gemmie had set forth on the bed.

“Oh, you have the box ready for the wedding dress, haven’t you, Gemmie?” said Sherrill, feeling she must break this awful silence that seemed to pervade the room. “That’s all right. Gemmie will fold it for you and get it all ready to be sent to whatever address you say.”

“Oh,” began Arla, with a hesitant glance toward Gemmie and then looking Sherrill almost haughtily in the eye, “I couldn’t think of keeping it. I really couldn’t!”

“Certainly you will take it,” said Sherrill sternly. “It is your wedding dress! You were married in it. I wouldn’t want it, you know.”

Arla answered with a quick-drawn, startled “Oh!” of comprehension. Then she added, “And I’m afraid I wouldn’t either!”

Over Sherrill’s face there passed a swift look of sympathy.

“I see,” she said quietly. “You wouldn’t want it, of course. I’m sorry. You are right. I’ll keep it.”

Arla was silent until she was freed from the white veil and sheathing satin, but when Gemmie brought forth the dark slip and lovely tailored going-away outfit that Sherrill had prepared for herself, she suddenly spoke with determination:

“No,” she said with a little haughty lifting of her pretty chin, “I will wear my own things away. Where are they? Did somebody take them away?”

“They are here,” said Sherrill, a certain new respect in her voice that had not been there before. “But—you are perfectly welcome to the other dress. I think it would fit you. We are about the same size.”

“No,” said Arla determinedly, “I prefer to wear my own dress. It is new and quite all right. Wouldn’t you prefer to wear your own things?” She asked the question almost fiercely.

“I suppose I would,” said Sherrill meekly. “And I remember your dress. It was very pretty. But I just wanted you to feel you were perfectly welcome to wear the other.”

“Thank you,” said Arla in a choking voice, “but there is no need. You have done enough. You really have been rather wonderful, and I want you to know that I appreciate it all.”

Gemmie, skillfully folding the rich satin, managed somehow to give the impression that she was not there, and presently took herself conveniently out of the room.

Sherrill looked up pleasantly.

“That’s all right,” she said with a wan smile, “and now listen! I’ve packed some things for you in this suitcase. I think there will be enough to carry you through the trip.”

“That wouldn’t be necessary either,” said the other girl coldly. “I can get some things somewhere.”

“I’m afraid not,” said Sherrill. “You’ll barely have time to make the train to the boat. The ship sails at midnight. You might be able to stop for a few personal things if you don’t live too far out of the way, but you’d have to hurry awfully. You couldn’t take more than five minutes to get them, and you couldn’t possibly pack for a trip to Europe in that time.”

“Then I can get along without things!” said the bride with a sob in her voice.

“Don’t be silly!” said Sherrill in a friendly voice. “You can’t make the trip into an endurance test. You’ve got to have the right things, of course. You’re on your wedding trip, you know, and there may be people on board that Carter knows. You’ve got to look right.”

She wondered at herself as she said all this coolly to this other girl who was taking the trip in her place. It was just like a terrible dream that she was going through. A wild thought that perhaps it was a dream passed through her weary mind. Perhaps she would presently wake up and find that none of all this nightmare was true. Perhaps there wasn’t any Arla, and Carter had never been untrue!

Idle thoughts, of course! She pushed them frantically from her and tried to talk practically.

“I haven’t put much in, just some casual things and three little evening dresses. Necessary underthings and accessories, of course. Some slippers, too, and there’s a heavy coat for the deck. The bag is fitted with toilet articles. You won’t need to stop for any of your own unless you feel you must.”

“Oh, I feel like a criminal!” the bride said suddenly, and sank into a chair with her golden head bowed and her face in her hands, sobbing.

“Nonsense!” said Sherrill under the same impulse with which she might have dashed cold water in the girl’s face if she had been fainting. “Brace up! You’ve gotten through the worst! For pity’s sake don’t get red eyes and spoil it all. Remember you’ve got to go downstairs and smile at everybody yet. Stop it! Quick!”

She offered a clean handkerchief.

“Now look here! Be sensible! Things aren’t just as either you or I would have had them if we’d had our choice! But we’ve got this thing to go through with now, and we’re not going to pass out just at the last minute. Be a good sport and finish your dressing. There isn’t a whole lot of time, you know. Say, that is a pretty frock! I hadn’t noticed it closely before. It certainly is attractive. Come, get it fastened and I’ll find your shoes and stockings.”

Arla accepted the handkerchief and essayed to repair the damages on her face, but her whole slender body was quivering.

“I’ve—taken your—hus–band—” she began with trembling lips.

“You have not!” said Sherrill with flashing eyes. “He’s not my husband, thank goodness!”

“You’d—have—been—happ–pp–ppy,” sobbed Arla, “if—you—just—hadn’t—found—out! It would have been much b–b–better if I had k–k–k–killed myself!”

“Don’t you suppose I’d have found out eventually that he was that sort? And what good would your killing yourself have been? Haven’t you any sense at all? For pity’s sake stop crying! You’re not to blame.” Sherrill was frantic. The girl seemed to be going all to pieces.

“Yes, I am! I’ve taken your husband!” went on Arla, getting a fresh start on sobs, “and I’ve taken your wedding away from you, and now you want me to take your clothes—and I can’t do it!”

“Fiddlesticks!” said Sherrill earnestly. “I tell you I don’t want your husband, and if anybody wanted a frantic wedding such as this has been, they are welcome to it. As for the clothes, they’re all new and have never become a part of me. I’m glad to have you have them, and anyway you’ve got to, to carry out this thing right! Now stop being a baby and get your shoes on. I tell you the time is going fast. Listen! I want you to have those things. I really do! And I want you to have just as good a time as you can. Don’t you believe it?”

“Oh, you’re wonderful!” said Arla, suddenly jumping up and flinging her slender young arms around Sherrill’s neck. “I just love you! And to think I thought you were so different! Oh, if I’d known you were like this, I wouldn’t have come here! I really wouldn’t!”

“Well, I’m glad you came!” said Sherrill fiercely. “I didn’t know it, but I guess I really am. Of course, I’m not having a particularly heavenly time out of it, but I’m sure in my heart that you’ve probably done me a great favor, and someday when I get over the shock, I’ll thank you for it!”

“Oh, but I wouldn’t have wanted to hurt you,” sighed Arla, her red lips still quivering. “I really wouldn’t. I’ve always been—well—decent!”

“That’s all right!” said Sherrill, blinking her own tears back. “And I wouldn’t have wanted to hurt you either. There! Let’s let it go at that and be friendly. Now, please, powder your nose and hurry up. Smile! That’s it!”

Just then Gemmie came back, a big warm coat over her arm, richly furred on collar and sleeves.

“It’s getting late, Mrs. McArthur!” she suggested officially, and presented Arla’s chic little hat and doeskin gloves with a look of approbation toward them. Gemmie had decided that the substitute bride must be a lady. At least she knew how to buy the right clothes.

Arla paused at the door as Gemmie stepped off down the hall to direct the man who had come to take the suitcase, and whispered to Sherrill: “I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me! Never!” she said huskily.

“That’s all right,” said Sherrill almost tenderly as she looked at the pretty shrinking girl before her. “I’m just sorry you couldn’t have had a regular wedding instead of one all messed up with other things like this.”

“Oh, but I never could have afforded a wedding like this!” sighed Arla wistfully.

“Well, it might at least have been peaceful,” said Sherrill with a tinge of bitterness in her voice. “But never mind. It’s over now, and I hope a good happy life for you has begun. Try not to think much about the past. Try to make yours a happy marriage if it can be done.”

They passed on together down the hall to the head of the stairs where Carter McArthur and his best man stood waiting, and as she saw her bridegroom standing there so handsome and smiling and altogether just what a happy bridegroom ought to look like, there came to Arla new strength. She lost her sorrowful humility and became the radiant bride again. That was her husband standing there waiting for her! Her husband, not another girl’s! Only a short walk down the stairs now, a dash to the car, and she would be out and free from all this awfulness, and into a new life. She might be going into hell, but she was going with him, and it was what she had chosen.

Then suddenly, as Arla’s hand was drawn within the arm of her bridegroom and they walked smilingly down the stairs with measured tread, Sherrill, falling in behind, felt greatly alone and lost. A sinking feeling came over her. Was she going to fall? That would be dreadful, now when it was almost over. Must she walk down those steps alone? Couldn’t she just slip back to her room and stay there till they were all gone?

But just as she faltered at the top step, she felt a hand under her arm, and a pleasant voice said in her ear: “Well, is it all over now but the shouting?” and she looked up to see the cheerful grin of Copeland.

She had forgotten his existence in the last few tense minutes, but he had been waiting, had seen her weakness, and was there just at the right moment.

“Did anybody ever before pick up a friend like you right out of the street in the dark night?” she asked suddenly, lifting grateful eyes to his face.

“Why, I thought it was I who picked you up!” he answered quickly with a warm smile.

“Well, anyway, you have been wonderful!”

“I’m only too glad if I have been able to live up to the specifications,” he said earnestly and finished with his delightful grin again.

The people down in the hall looking up said to one another: “Look at those two! They look as if it were their wedding, don’t they? Who is he, do you suppose, and where has he been all this time?”

Sherrill stood with the rest on the wide front veranda watching the bride and groom dash across to their beribboned car, which awaited them. She even threw a few of the pink rose petals with which the guests were hilariously pelting the bridal couple. Even now at this last moment, when she was watching another girl go away with her bridegroom, she must smile and keep up appearances, although her knees felt weak and the tears were dangerously near.

Mrs. Battersea had stationed herself and her lorgnette in the forefront, and she fixed her eagle eye especially on Sherrill. If there was still any more light on the peculiar happening of the evening to be gleaned from a view of the original bride off her guard, at this last minute, she meant to get it.

Sherrill suddenly saw her, and it had the effect of making her give a little hysterical giggle. Then Copeland’s hand on her arm steadied her again, and she flashed a grateful smile up to meet his pleasant grin.

Mrs. Battersea dropped her lorgnette, deciding that of course this was the other lover appeared just at the last minute; only how did they get that other girl?



They were all gone at last. The last guest had joked to Aunt Pat about her wonderful surprise wedding; the last bridesmaid had taken her little box of wedding cake to sleep on and stolen noisily away. Just Aunt Pat and Sherrill and Copeland left standing alone in the wide front hall as the last car whirled away.

Copeland had stayed to the end, as if he were a part of the household, stayed close by Sherrill, taken the burden of the last conversations upon himself as if he had the right, made every second of those last trying minutes just as easy for her as possible, kept up a light patter of brilliant conversation, filling in all the spots that needed tiding over.

“And now,” said he, turning to the hostess as the last car whirled down the lighted driveway, “I have to thank you, Miss Catherwood, for a most delightful evening. Sherrill, it’s been wonderful to have had this time with you. I must be getting on my way. I think your butler is bringing my things.”

Just then the butler came toward them bearing Graham Copeland’s suitcase and high hat. Sherrill looked up in surprise. With what ease he had arranged everything so that there would be no unpleasant pauses for explanation.

But Aunt Pat swung around upon him with a quick searching look at Sherrill.

“Why, where are you staying?” she asked cordially.

“I’m at the Wiltshire,” he answered quickly. “I hadn’t time to get into proper garb before the ceremony, so I brought my things up here, and Sherrill very kindly gave me a place to dress.”

“Well, then why don’t you just stay here tonight? It’s pretty late, I guess. We’ve plenty of rooms now, you know,” and she gave him a little friendly smile that she gave only to an honored few whom she liked.

“Thank you,” he said with an amused twinkle at Sherrill. “That would be delightful, but I’ve an appointment quite early in the morning, and my briefcase is at the hotel. I think I’d better go back to my room. But I certainly appreciate the invitation.”

“Well, then, you’ll be with us to dinner tomorrow night surely. That is, unless you and Sherry have made other plans.”

“I certainly wish I could,” said the young man wistfully, “but unfortunately I am obliged to take the noon train to Washington to meet another appointment which is quite important.”

Aunt Pat looked disappointed.

“I wonder,” said the young man hesitantly, “I’m not sure how long I shall be obliged to stay in Washington—several days, likely, as I have some important records to look up at the Patent Office—but I shall be passing through the city on my way to New York sometime next week probably. Would I be presuming if I stopped off and called on you both?”

“Presuming?” said Aunt Pat with a keen look at Sherrill. “Well, not so far as I know,” and she gave one of her quaint little chuckles.

“I do hope you can,” said Sherrill earnestly with a look that left no doubt of her wish in the matter.

His eyes searched hers gravely for an instant, and then he said as though he had received a royal command: “Then I shall surely be here if it is at all possible. I’ll call up and find out if it is convenient.”

“Of course it’ll be convenient!” said the old lady. “I’m always at home whether anybody else is or not, and I’ll be glad to see you.”

He bowed a gracious thanks, then turned to Sherrill as if reluctant to relinquish his office of assistant.

“I’ll hope you’ll be—” He hesitated, then finished earnestly, “All right.”

There was something in his eyes that brought a warm little comforted feeling around her heart.

“Oh yes!” she answered fervently. “Thank you! You were—It was wonderful having you here!” she finished with heightened color.

“Oh, but you’re not going that way!” said the old lady. “Gemmie, tell Stanley to bring the car around and take Mr. Copeland—”

A moment more and he was gone, and Sherrill had a sudden feeling of being left alone in a tumultuous world.

Now she must have it out with Aunt Pat!

Slowly she turned away from the door and faced the old lady, all her lovely buoyant spirits gone, just a weary, troubled little girl who looked as if she wanted to cry.