The Beloved Stranger

Chapter 6




Well,” said Aunt Pat with grim satisfaction in her voice, “you never did anything in your life that pleased me so much!”

“Oh, you darling Aunt Pat!” said Sherrill, her face glowing with sudden relief, and quick tears brimming unbidden into her eyes.

“Why, certainly!” said the old lady crisply. “You know I never did like that Carter McArthur. Now, come upstairs to my room and tell me all about it!”

“Oh, but aren’t you too tired tonight, Aunt Pat?” asked Sherrill, struggling under the shock of relief.

“Bosh!” said Aunt Pat. “You know neither you nor I will sleep a wink till we’ve had it out. Run and get your robe on. I suppose you gave the grand new one to that little washed-out piece. Of course she had to have it. But put on your old one with the blue butterflies. I like that one best anyway. Gemmie”—raising her voice to the faithful maid who was never far away—“send up two plates of everything to my room. Everything, I said. We’re hungry as bears. Neither of us ate as much as a bird while that mob was here. No, you needn’t worry, Gemmie; it won’t hurt me this time of night at all. I’m as chipper as a squirrel, and if I’ve stood this evening and all the weeks before it, I certainly can stand one good meal before I sleep. The fact is, Gemmie, things have come out my way tonight, and I don’t think anything could very well hurt me just now.”

“Yes, ma’am!” said Gemmie with a happy glance toward Sherrill.



A general air of good cheer pervaded Aunt Pat’s room when Sherrill, in her old robe of shell pink satin with blue butterflies fluttering over it, and her comfortable old slippers with the lamb’s wool lining and pink feather edges, arrived and was established in a big stuffed chair at one side of the open fire. Aunt Pat, with her silver hair in soft ringlets around her shoulders, sat on the other side of the fire robed in dove-gray quilted silk.

Gemmie brought two little tables and two heaping trays of food, and left them with the lights turned low. The firelight flickered over the two, the young face and the old one.

“Now,” said Aunt Pat, “who is he?” Sherrill looked up, puzzled.

“The other one, I mean. You certainly picked a winner this time if I may be permitted a little slang. He seems to be the key to the whole situation. Begin with him! Where have you been keeping him all this time? And why haven’t I been told about him before? Is he an old schoolmate, to quote Mrs. Battersea, and how long have you known him?”

“I haven’t!” said Sherrill with a sound of panic in her voice.

“You haven’t?” asked her aunt with a forkful of chicken salad paused halfway to her mouth. “What do you mean, you haven’t? You certainly seemed to know him pretty well, and he you.”

“But I don’t, Aunt Pat. I don’t really know him at all.”

“But—where did you meet him?”

“On the street.”

“On the street! When?”

“Tonight.”

“Mercy!” said Aunt Pat with a half grin. “Explain yourself. You’re not the kind of girl that goes around picking up men on the street.”

“No!” said Sherrill with a choke of tears in her voice. “But I did this time. I really did. At least—he says he picked me up. You see, I fell into his arms!”

“Mmmm!” said Aunt Pat, enjoying her supper and scenting romance. “Go on. That sounds interesting.”

“Why, you see, it was this way. I parked my car in a hurry to get up into the gallery, and when I went to get out, I caught my toe in one of those long ruffles, or else I stepped on it; anyway, I fell headlong out on the pavement. Or at least I would have if this man hadn’t been there and caught me. I guess I was so excited I didn’t really realize that I was pretty well shaken up. Perhaps I struck my head; I’m not sure. It felt dizzy and strange afterward. But he stood me up and brushed me off and insisted on going across the road with me. I guess I must have been unsteady on my feet, for when he found I wanted to go upstairs to the gallery, he almost carried me up, and he was very nice and helpful. He took that note down to you and then got me a drink of water.”

“Hmm!” said Aunt Pat with satisfaction. “He’s what I call a real man. Nice face! Makes me think of your father when he was young. I couldn’t make out how you’d take up with that little pretty-face McArthur nincompoop after seeing a man like this one.”

“Why, Aunt Pat!” said Sherrill in astonishment. “I never knew you felt that way about Carter! You never said you did!”

“What was the use of saying? You were determined to have him. But go on. How did this Graham fellow get up here, and how did he get to calling you by your first name, and you him?”

“Well, you see, I slipped out just before the ceremony was over. He said I wasn’t fit to drive; he’d either drive himself or get some friend if I said so. But I was in a hurry so I let him drive. I wasn’t thinking about formalities then. I knew I ought to get back home quickly. Anyhow, he was so respectful I knew he was all right.”

“Hmm! There are respectful crooks sometimes! But never mind; go on.”

“But really, Aunt Pat, I don’t know what you’ll think of me! I haven’t had time before this to think what a dreadful thing it was I did, a total stranger, but it didn’t seem so then. It seemed just a desperate spot in life. You’d let a stranger pull you out of the street when a mad dog was coming or something like that. I’m afraid you’ll be horrified at me. But he was really very kind. He offered to do anything in the world, said he was a stranger in town with the evening to pass, before he met a business appointment in the morning, and if there was any way at all he could help—”

“For mercy’s sake, child, stop apologizing and tell things as they happened. I’m not arraigning you.”

“Well, I let him come home with me. I knew it would be easier if there was someone that everybody didn’t know, and I let him come.”

“Hmm!” said the old lady with a thoughtful smile that the firelight showed off to perfection. “Well, he certainly was clever enough. But how did he get a dress coat?”

“Oh, we stopped at the hotel and got his suitcase. He’d been to a dinner the night before in Cleveland. I let him dress in the little room at the end of the back hall.

We came in up the fire escape just before the first car arrived.”

“Hmm! Clever pair!” commented the old lady as she took delicate bites of her creamed mushrooms. “Well, now, get back to your story. How long have you known about this other girl, Artie—was that her name?”

“Arla.”

“Silly name! But go on. How long has this double business been going on?”

“I don’t know,” said Sherrill wearily. “Always, I guess.”

“I mean, when did you find it out?”

“Just after you left the house for the church,” answered the girl with downcast eyes. Now she was at the beginning of the real story, and it suddenly seemed to her as if she could not possibly tell that part.

The old lady gave her a startled look. She knew that they were now come to the crux of the matter. Sherrill had been so brave up to this point and had carried matters off with such a spirit that she had somehow hoped that Sherrill was not so hard hit. Hoped against hope, perhaps, that the final discovery was but the culmination of long suspicions.

“You don’t say!” said the old lady, her usual seriocomic manner quite shaken. “But how? I don’t see what—How—!”

Sherrill shut her eyes and drew a quick deep breath, then began.

“I was all ready. So I made Gemmie hurry on to the church. I wanted her to be there to see it all, and I wanted to go and see Mary the cook. I’d promised her to come after I got dressed. I knew Gemmie would try to stop me, so I wouldn’t let her wait as she wanted to. As soon as she was gone, I unlocked my door into the next room and went softly through toward the back hall.” Sherrill had to stop for another deep breath. It seemed as though she was about to go through the whole terrible experience again.

“Well?” said the old lady sharply, laying down her fork with a click on the china plate.

“As I stepped into the end room, which was dark,” she began again, trying to steady her voice, “I saw that the door into the middle room was open and the light streaming across the floor. I listened for an instant but heard nothing. I was afraid some of those strange servants would be snooping about. Then I stepped softly forward and saw Carter standing before the long mirror arranging his tie.”

“Yes?” said the old lady breathlessly.

“I watched him just a second. I didn’t want to stir lest he would hear me, and I wanted him to see me first as I came up the aisle—”

Sherrill’s voice trailed away sorrowfully. Then she gathered strength again.

“But while I watched him, I saw the door beside the mirror open noiselessly, and that girl came in!”

“Hmm!” said Aunt Pat, allowing herself another bite of oyster patty but keeping her eyes speculatively on her niece. “She must have come up the fire escape or somebody would have seen her.”

“She did,” said Sherrill wearily, putting her head back and closing her eyes for an instant. Somehow the whole thing suddenly overwhelmed and sickened her again. It seemed she could not go on.

“Well?” said the old lady impatiently. “Did she see you?”

“No.” Sherrill’s voice was almost toneless. “No, but—”

“There, there, child! I know it’s hard, but it’s got to be told once, and then we’ll close it over forever if you say so.”

“Oh, I know,” said Sherrill, sitting up and taking up her tale with a little shudder that seemed to shake her whole slender self.

“No, she didn’t see me. She was looking at him. She went straight to him and began to talk, and I could see by his whole attitude that they were old friends. He was shocked when he saw her, and very angry. He ordered her out and scolded her, but she pled with him. It was really heartbreaking. Just as if he had been nothing to me. I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her, though I thought her—Oh, at first I thought her the lowest of the low. Then I recognized her as his secretary, and of course I guess I thought still less of her, because she would have known that he was engaged.”

“Yes, of course!” said Aunt Pat in a spritely tone. “Well, what else?”

“Well, she began pleading with him to go away with her. She reminded him that he had promised to marry her, and in his answer he acknowledged that he had, but oh, Aunt Pat! It is too dreadful to tell!”

“That’s all right, Sherrill; get it out of your system. No way to do that like telling it all, making a clean sweep of it! Besides, sometime you’ll want to look back on it and remember that you had the assent of someone else that you did the right thing. Even though you’re sure you’re right, there will come times when you will question yourself perhaps.”

“I know!” said Sherrill quickly with that sharp intake of breath that shows some thought has hurt. “I have already!” Her aunt gave her a sharp keen look.

“Poor kiddie!” she said gently.

“Oh, I know I never could have married him,” went on Sherrill heartbrokenly. “Only it is so dreadful to have my life all upset in one awful minute that way! To know in a flash that everything you’ve ever counted on and trusted in a person had no foundation whatever! That he simply wasn’t in the least what I had thought him. Why, Aunt Pat, he had the nerve to tell her that it didn’t matter if he was marrying someone else—that wouldn’t hinder their relation. He reminded her that after he got home from the wedding trip, he would spend far more time with her than with me, and that whenever he wanted to get away for a few days, it would be entirely possible! Oh, Aunt Pat—it was too dreadful! And I standing there not daring to breathe! Oh!” Sherrill put her face down in her hands and shook with suppressed sobs.

“The dirty little puppy!” said Aunt Pat, setting down her plate with a ring on the table. Then she got up from her big chair and came across to Sherrill, laying a frail roseleaf hand on her bowed head.

“You poor dear little girl!” she said tenderly, more tenderly than Sherrill had ever heard her speak before.

For a moment then the tears had full sway, let loose by the unusual gentleness of the old lady’s voice, till they threatened to engulf her. Then suddenly Sherrill lifted her face all wet with tears and drew Aunt Pat’s hand to her lips, kissing it again and again.

“Oh, Aunt Pat! It’s so wonderful of you to take it this way! You’ve done so much to make this a wonderful wedding, spent all this money, and then had it finish in a terrible scandal like this!”

“It’s not a scandal!” protested the old lady. “You carried if off like a thoroughbred, and nobody will ever know what happened. You were the bravest girl I ever knew. You are like your father, Sherrill.” Her tone was very gentle now, and soft. It hardly sounded like herself, and her sharp old eyes were misted with sweet tears. “And why wouldn’t I take it this way, I should like to know, when I was pleased to pieces at what had happened?”

Then suddenly she straightened up, marched back to her seat, and took up her plate again. Her eyes were snapping now, and her tone was far from gentle as she said, “But it was far too good a thing to happen to Carter McArthur. He ought to have been tarred and feathered!

He deserves the scorn of the community! Go on. Tell me the rest! What excuse did he offer?”

“Oh, he said things about his business. He said he couldn’t marry her; he had to marry influence and money! Aunt Pat, he seemed to think I had money, though I’ve told him I was poor and that you were giving me my wedding. Or else, maybe he was just lying to her; I don’t know—”

“Well,” said Aunt Pat, setting her lips wryly, “I suppose I’m to blame for that. I thought the thing was inevitable, and I told him myself that you would be pretty well fixed after I was gone. He likely was figuring to borrow money or something.”

Sherrill’s head dropped again, and she gave a sound like a groan.

“There, there! Stop that, child!” said the old lady briskly. “He isn’t worth it.”

“I know it,” moaned Sherrill, “but I’m so ashamed that I loved a man like that!”

“You didn’t!” said her aunt. “You loved a man you’d made up in your own imagination. Come, tell me the rest, and then eat your supper or you’ll be sick, and then what’ll Mrs. Battersea say?”

Sherrill gave a hysterical little giggle and, lifting her head, wiped away the tears.

“Well, then someone came to the door and told him the car was waiting and it was late, and he got frantic. He told her to go away, and then she threatened to kill herself, and suddenly he took her in his arms and kissed her—just the way he used to kiss me, Aunt Pat! Oh, it was awful. His arms went around her as if he was hungry for her! Oh, there was no doubt about how he felt toward her, not a bit! And then he kissed her again and suddenly threw her from him into the corner, turned out the light in the room, and went away slamming the door hard behind him.”

“The poor fool!” commented Aunt Pat under her breath.

“I stood quite still holding my breath,” went on Sherrill, “till suddenly I heard her move, and then I reached out and turned on both lights in both rooms and she saw me.”

“What happened?” The old lady’s eyes were large with interest.

“I believe I asked her how long she had known him,” said Sherrill wearily, “and she said always, that they had grown up and gone to school together, and then he had sent for her to come here and be his secretary till he could afford to marry her—”

“A beast! That’s what he is!” murmured Aunt Pat. “A sleek little beast!”

“She said it was not until I came that he turned away from her. She said awful things to me. She said it was all my fault, that I had everything and she had nothing but him, and I had ruined her life and there was nothing for her to do but kill herself! And when I told her to hush, that there wasn’t much time and we had to do something, she thought I meant that she was to get away quietly so no one would know. She raved, Aunt Pat! She said it was all right for me, that I was going to marry him. And when I told her that of course I couldn’t marry him now, and asked her if she would marry a man like that, she said she’d marry him if she had to go through hell with him!”

Aunt Pat’s face hardened, though there was a mist across her eyes which she brushed impatiently away.

“Poor little fool!” she commented.

“So I dragged her into my room and made her put on my dress and veil. I guess that is all. She couldn’t believe me at first. She said she couldn’t do that, that he would kill her, but I told her to tell him that if he didn’t treat her right, if he didn’t go through the evening in the conventional way, or if he tried to throw it up to her afterward, then I would tell the whole world what he had done.”

“Great work!” breathed Aunt Pat. “Sherry, you certainly had your head about you! And you certainly seemed to know your man better than I thought you did.”

“Oh, Aunt Pat, it seems so awful for me to be sitting here talking about Carter when just a few hours before I thought he was so wonderful!”

“Yes, I know!” mused Aunt Pat with a faraway look. “I had that experience, too, once, ages ago before you were born.”

“You did?” Sherrill looked up with wonder in her eyes.

“Yes,” said Aunt Pat with a strangely tender look on her face, “I did. I was engaged to a young hypocrite once, and thought he was the angel Gabriel till I got my eyes open. Sometime I’ll tell you about it. There isn’t anybody living now who knows the story but myself. I thought I was heartbroken forever, and when my grandmother told me that he just wasn’t the man God had meant for me, and that He probably had somebody a great deal better waiting somewhere, I got very angry at her. But that turned out to be true, too, and I did have another lover who was a real man later. It wasn’t his fault that we never married. Nor mine either. He died saving a little child’s life. But the memory of him has been better for me all my life than if I’d married that first little selfish whiffet. So don’t let yourself think that the end of the world has come, Sherrill.”

Sherrill sat looking at the old lady and trying to reconstruct her ideas of her, wondering at the mellowing and sharpness that were combined in her dear whimsical old face.

“There, now, child, you’ve told enough!” said the old lady briskly. “Eat your supper and go to bed. Tomorrow you may tell me about everything else. We’ve had enough for tonight. I’ll talk while you eat now. What do you want to do next? Go to Europe?”

“Oh, not Europe!” Sherrill shrank visibly.

“Of course not!” snapped the old lady with triumph in her eyes. “We’ll go someplace a great deal more interesting.”

“I don’t think I want to go anywhere,” said Sherrill sadly. “I guess I had better just stay here and let people see I’m not moping. That is, if I can get away with it.”

“Of course you can!” lilted the old lady. “We’ll have the time of our lives. They’ll see!”

“The only place I’d want to go anyway would be out west by and by, back to my teaching. I’d like to earn money enough to pay you for this awful wedding, Aunt Pat!”

“Stuff and nonsense!” fumed the old lady. “If you mention that again, I’ll disinherit you! You hurt me, Sherrill!”

“Oh, forgive me, Aunt Pat! But you’ve been so wonderful!”

“Well, that’s no way to reward me. Go away when I’m just congratulating myself that I’ve got you all to myself for a while. Of course I don’t fool myself into thinking I can keep you always. You’re too good looking for that. And there are a few real men left in the world even in this age. They are not all Carter McArthurs. But at least let me have the comfort of your companionship until one comes along!”

“You dear Aunt Pat!”

“There’s another thing we’ve got to consider tomorrow,” said the old lady meditatively. “What are you going to do with those wedding presents?”

Sherrill lifted her face, aghast at the thought.

“Oh, mercy! I never thought about them. How terrible! What could one do?”

“Oh, send most of them back. Send Carter those his friends sent. Don’t bother about it tonight. We’ll work it out. You run along to bed now, and don’t think another thing about it.”



Ten minutes later Sherrill was back in her own room.

Gemmie had been there and removed every trace and suggestion of wedding from the place. Sherrill’s best old dresses hung in the closet; Sherrill’s old dependable brushes and things were on the bureau. It might have been the night before she ever met Carter McArthur as far as her surroundings suggested.

She cast a quick look of relief about her and went forward to the mirror and stood there, looking into her own eyes, just as she had done when she was ready for her marriage. Looked at her real self and tried to make it seem true that this awful thing had happened to her, Sherrill Cameron! And then suddenly her eyes wandered away from the deep sorrowful thoughts that she found in her mirrored eyes, with an unthinking glance at her slim white neck, and she started. Why! Where was her emerald necklace? She hadn’t taken it off when she put on her robe. She was sure she had not. She would have remembered undoing the intricate old clasp!

Frantically she searched her bureau drawers. Had Gemmie taken it away? Surely not. She went to the little secret drawer where she usually kept her valuable trinkets. Ah! There was the box it had come in! And yes, the ring and bracelets were there! She remembered taking them off. But not the necklace! Where could the necklace be? Perhaps it had come unfastened and dropped in the big chair while she was eating her supper!

She stepped across the hall quickly and tapped at the door of her aunt’s room.

“Aunt Pat, may I come in a minute?” she called, and upon receiving permission she burst into the room excitedly: “Aunt Pat! I’ve lost my emerald necklace! Could I have dropped it in your room?”