CHAPTER XI
A MEETING AND AN EXPLANATION
"I--I was running," explained Miss O'Neill as soon as she had sufficientbreath to speak.
Which was such an absurdly unnecessary statement of an apparent factthat her rescuer smiled against his will.
He was not pleased at this meeting with Miss Polly O'Neill. It was truethat he had been walking out to her hotel to make inquiries concerningher health, but he had no thought or desire to see her. Indeed, deepdown in his heart he believed that few women had ever treated a man muchworse than she had treated him and he had never even tried to forgiveher. For several years they had been engaged to be married, onlypostponing the wedding because of Polly's youth and because she wantedto go on with her acting for a few years longer without interruption.Then when Richard Hunt had insisted that he was not young and could notwait forever, with characteristic coolness Polly had broken herengagement. She had written him of her change of mind and heart and hehad accepted her letter as final. Never once since had they met face toface until this minute.
Yet now Richard Hunt found himself holding the same young woman in hisarms, rather against his will, of course, but not knowing what else todo with her since she scarcely looked strong enough to stand alone.
"I think I would like to sit down for a moment," Polly volunteeredfinally and managed to cross over to the opposite side of the road,where she established herself very comfortably on a carefully cultivatedmound of grass.
Her rescuer stood over her. "May I do anything for you, Miss O'Neill?"he inquired formally. "I think it might be well for me to find yourmaid."
He was about to move off when Polly with her usual lack of dignityfairly clutched the back of his overcoat.
"Oh, please don't go, Mr. Hunt--Richard," she ended after a slighthesitation. "Really, I don't understand why you have treated me sounkindly all these years. I don't see the least reason why we should nothave continued to be friends. Still, you were going to my hotel to callon me. There isn't any other possible reason why you were marching outthis particular road, which does not lead anywhere else." And at thisMiss O'Neill smiled with open and annoying satisfaction.
"I hadn't the faintest idea of asking to see you," Richard Huntannounced firmly, although a little surprised by Polly's friendlymanner. If they had been parted for a matter of five weeks instead offive years, and if the cause of their separation had been only someslight disagreement rather than something affecting their whole lives,she could not have appeared more nonchalant and at the same time morecordial. But then there never had been any way of accounting for PollyO'Neill's actions and probably never would be. However, Richard Hunt hadno desire again to subject himself to her moods. He wished very much towalk on, and yet he could not make up his mind to remove her handforcibly from his coat. Moreover, she looked too pale and exhausted tobe left alone. Yet this had always been a well-known method by whichPolly had succeeded in gaining her own point, he remembered.
"Then what were you going to my hotel for? Didn't you even know I wasstaying there?" she demanded, finding breath enough to ask questions, inspite of her exhaustion of a few moments before.
If only he had been a less truthful man! For a moment Richard Huntcontemplated making up some entirely fanciful story, then he put thetemptation aside.
Notwithstanding, his manner and answer were far more crushing to MissPolly O'Neill than if he had told her a lie which she would probablyhave seen through at once.
Always he had commanded more respect from her than any man she had everknown in her life, which was secretly mingled with a little wholesomeawe. Polly had always put it down to the fact that he was so much olderthan she was. But she had had other acquaintances among older men.
"You misunderstood me, Miss O'Neill, when I said that I was coming toyour hotel without any intention of seeing you. That was true, but I wascoming with the idea of inquiring how you were. You see, I also havebeen staying in this part of the country, and not long ago I read in oneof the papers that you were here and seriously ill. Afterwards I learnedthat you were alone. Your family and friends have always been so kind tome that it appeared to me my duty to find out your true condition. I ofcourse guessed that you had not told them the truth."
Richard Hunt gazed severely down at the crumpled young woman at hisfeet, ending his speech as cruelly as possible.
"Well, I like that!" Polly returned weakly, falling into slang withentire unconsciousness. "Here I have been suffering perfect agonies ofloneliness and crying my eyes out every day because I so wanted motherand Mollie and Betty to come to me. And I only did not let them know Iwas ill, to keep them from worrying. Yet you make it sound just as if Iwere keeping my tiresome old breakdown a secret from the pure love offibbing inherent in my wicked nature. I do think you are--mean!"
Was there ever such another grown-up woman as Polly O'Neill? Actuallythere were tears in her eyes as she ended her speech, relinquishing herhold on her companion in order to fish about in her pocket for ahandkerchief, which she failed to find.
With entire gravity Mr. Hunt presented his, and Polly, wiping her eyesand perspiring forehead, coolly retained the handkerchief.
"Don't you think you are strong enough now to permit me to take you backto your hotel, if I may not look for your maid?" the man suggested,wondering if his companion had any idea of how absurd their positionwas, nor of how much he desired to get away from her.
However, she only sighed comfortably. "Oh, thank you very much, butdon't trouble. I am perfectly all right now. I was only out of breathbecause I was running after a little girl who is as fleet as a deer. ButI don't want to go back to my hotel unless you were coming to see me. Iwas much too lonely there. I'll just walk along with you and after awhile, if I am tired again, perhaps we may find a bench and you'll sitdown with me. Of course I know you are too dignified to sit on the grasslike I am doing."
Without the least assistance Polly rose up and stood beside hercompanion, smiling at him somewhat wistfully.
What else could any man do except agree to her wishes? Besides, she hadhim cornered either way. For now if he continued his journey toward herhotel she would assuredly accompany him, and she had also volunteered towalk the other way.
Moreover, it would seem too surly and disgruntled to refuse so simple acourtesy to an old acquaintance.
So Polly and her former friend walked slowly along in the brilliantColorado sunshine in air so clear that it seemed almost dazzling. Beyondthey could see the tops of snow-covered mountains tinted azure by thesky. It would have been humanly impossible to have felt unfriendlytoward any human being in such circumstances and on such a day.
Every now and then Polly would glance surreptitiously toward hercompanion's face. Gracious, he did look older! His hair was almostentirely gray and his expression certainly less kind. Polly wondered ifhe had really minded their broken engagement. Surely he had never caredseriously for so unreliable a person! She must have seemed only afoolish school girl to him, incapable of knowing her own mind. For ofcourse if he had not felt in this way he would have made some effort topersuade her to change her decision. How often she used to lie awakewondering why he did not write or come to her? Well, he was probablygrateful enough for his escape by this time.
Then without in the least knowing what she was going to say nor why shesaid it, Polly inquired suddenly:
"Richard, do you think Margaret Adams is happy in her marriage? I haveso often wondered. Of course she writes me she is."
Several years before, Miss Adams had married one of the richest men inNew York City and since then had retired permanently from the stage.Indeed, many persons considered that Polly had succeeded to her fame andposition.
Richard Hunt shook his head. "Really, I don't know any more than you do,Miss Polly," he returned. "But she has a fine son and certainly looks tome to be happy."
Polly smiled. At least she had succeeded in persuading her companion tocall her "Miss Polly." That was a step in the right direction, for inspite
of her own boldness in using his first name as she had done yearsbefore, up to this moment she had been addressed as Miss O'Neill.
But there were so many things to say that she quite forgot in what wayshe should say them and talked on every minute of the time.
She had been so lonely, so depressed until now, that life had seemed tohave lost almost all its former interest.
When she was plainly too tired to go further Richard Hunt sat down withher on a wayside bench for ten minutes. Then he resolutely rose and saidgood-bye.
"I am ever so glad to find that you are so much better," he concludedfinally. "I see there is no cause for anxiety." Yet even as he spoke theman wondered how any human being could manage to be as delicate lookingas Polly O'Neill and yet do all the things she was able to accomplish?Just now, of course, she did look rather worse than usual for her run;and then the walk afterwards had used up her strength. Besides, she hadbeen trying so hard to persuade her old friend again to cherish a littleliking for her and at this moment was convinced of her failure.
She shook her head. "Thank you," she answered quietly. "It has done megood to have seen some one of whom I am fond. It hasn't been altogethercheerful being out here ill and alone. It was kind of you to have caredenough to inquire about me. I suppose you will soon be going back towork. Good luck and farewell."
Polly reached out her slender hand, which was white and small with blueveins upon it. In her haste on leaving her apartment she had, of course,forgotten gloves.
However, instead of shaking her hand quietly, as both of them expected,Richard Hunt raised her fingers to his lips.
"I am not going away from Colorado immediately. May I come and see yousoon again?" he inquired. A few minutes before he had not the slightestintention of ever deliberately trying to see Polly O'Neill alone as longas they lived. But she did look so forlorn and as lonely as a forsakenlittle girl. No one could ever have guessed that this was the celebratedMiss O'Neill whose acting had charmed many thousands of people duringthe last eight or ten years.
Polly bit her lips. "Then you will come? I was afraid to ask you," shereplied. "I want so much to tell you about a queer little girl whom Ihave come across out in these wilds. Her name is Bobbin and she seems tobe deaf and dumb. I feel that I ought to do something for her and don'tknow exactly what to do. Perhaps I'll adopt her, although I'm afraid thefamily and Betty Graham won't approve. But anyhow, Sylvia, thewell-known Doctor Sylvia Wharton, who is a children's specialist, may beable to do something for her."
Naturally this idea of adopting Bobbin had not dawned upon Polly untilthe instant of announcing it. But the more she thought of taking thegirl to Sylvia's care the more the idea appealed to her. Besides,Bobbin perhaps might awaken Mr. Hunt's interest if he could see thechild and hear her tragic story. The little girl might be madeattractive with her queer eyes and sunburned hair, if she were cleanerand more civilized.
"You will come some day and help me decide what to do, won't you?" Pollyurged. "One's chief difficulty is not alone that Bobbin won't beadopted, she won't even let herself be discovered. She is such a queer,wild little thing."
Then she watched her companion until he was entirely out of sight andafterwards got up and strolled slowly home.
The Camp Fire Girls in After Years Page 11