An Idyll of All Fools' Day

by Josephine Daskam Bacon

  III.

  THE RETURN

  EVEN as he sank in the river, Antony perceived that he was in thegrip of a terrible current. He struck out with all his strengthagainst it for a moment, instinctively, before he realised that itwas folly to combat it; and as he rose to the surface, staringeagerly along the course of its tugging compulsion, he saw, as hehad hoped to see, a sleek small head several yards in advance ofhim. With a shout of encouragement he made for the small, floatingdot, and swam as he had never swam before, marking its distanceeach second in order to be able to dive when it should disappear.But it did not disappear. To his delight it floated serenely along,and as he caught up with it, still yelling in his excitement, itturned towards him.

  "Don't you think you might as well stop that noise, now?" saidNette calmly. "We seem to be saved. Is it far to the shore?"

  Antony's jaw dropped and he swallowed more of the river water thanwas conducive to his comfort.

  "I--I don't know, really," he gasped, "but it can't be, of course,if this beastly current will only let us land. Shall I hold you alittle? Aren't you tired?"

  "Not yet" she answered briefly. "I'll let you know. Of course myclothes make a dif----"

  She paused abruptly and devoted her breath to keeping up with him.Antony was a strong and rapid swimmer and had had more than oneoccasion to practice the art when fully dressed. Rising on hisstroke, he glanced about him and saw with joy that the current wassweeping them gradually, though not directly, to the left bank ofthe river. He could in fact discern their course in the differenttexture of the water as it sparkled in the sun.

  "Just put your hand on my shoulder," he begged. "There's no usewasting your strength. I think we ought to be there in fiveminutes, at this rate. It must be awfully hard in those skirts."

  Her breath came short and hard now; with a slight motion of herhead she indicated her assent, and placed her hand on his shoulder,and they slid in silence through the water. The bank, which nowloomed clearly over them, was quite high at this point, and Antonydeliberately neglected more than one place where a brief effortwould have got them out of the current, in order to make sure of aneasy slope by which to land. Suddenly his eye lit on what he hadbeen waiting for, a winding, easy path up through the clearedunderbrush, with a rough, three-sided shanty near it.

  "Here we are!" he cried encouragingly. "I think I can get youacross--by Jove, it's taking us there!"

  And this was so: the current, with a distinct twist, urged them intowards shore, and in a moment more Antony touched the bottom ofthe river and towed his companion, now hanging heavily on him, into safety. They dragged themselves wearily up the little path,soggy and dripping, Nette's skirts heavy with water, and sat downwith one accord on a sunny rock in front of the decaying oldbuilding, evidently a deserted boathouse, from the coils of ropeand broken oars that lay there. They looked dully at each other,and as they looked they shivered, for hot as was the sun, theriver, not yet warmed by this specious early spring, had chilledthem to the bone.

  Antony shook himself and tried to overcome the lassitude that hadcrept on him.

  "Well, here we are!" he said tentatively, pressing his teethtogether to hide their chattering. "It is a mighty good thing youswim so well, isn't it? Now we must get out of this as soon aspossible--your lips are blue. I suppose you really ought to runabout a little, oughtn't you?"

  "I suppose so," she assented wearily, "but I shall not do so,nevertheless. Is there no house near here?"

  They gazed about them, but no chimney, no red barn, no whitesteeple, rewarded the inspection. Robinson upon his isle could havefelt himself no more abandoned. Jutting headlands cut off theirview up and down the river; high pasture land broken with woodscovered all they could see on the opposite bank, and the one uponwhich they found themselves appeared to consist entirely of sandpits, gnarled roots, and fallen trees, with what seemed a ratherformidable forest behind.

  "It seems idiotic," Antony began, "and of course we must besomewhere--this is a ridiculous sort of country; one would think wewere in the middle of Africa--but just at the moment I cannot saythat I see any signs of humanity but this old boathouse. I willtake a run up beyond that little promontory and look about. Pleasejump up and down while I am gone, and could you not take that skirtoff and dry it in the sun?"

  She nodded.

  "And by the way," she observed casually, "where is the motor-car, doyou suppose?"

  Antony sat down from sheer force of surprise. He had utterlyforgotten the motor-car. Life to him had begun anew when hestaggered up the bank. He looked piteously over the shining river.

  "Well, we've done it, now!" he exclaimed, and as he sat in huddledmisery a fit of senseless laughter shook him, nor was his drippingcompanionlong in joining him. They laughed till the decayedold boathouse echoed, and when, from very fatigue, they stopped, notrifles such as cold or wet or isolation or the justly meritedterror of the Law could cloud their invincible youth after thatbaptism of mirth.

  "Anyway," Antony began, his voice still shaking, "we are on theother side of the river, and there is no bridge for two miles,certainly, and we came through a pasture to get here and so the oldcar is pretty safe to be under the mud by the time she could betraced. They say the bottom is mostly quicksand all about here--ifwe are here--for heaven's sake, what is that?"

  He pointed to a black rectangular object floating placidly on toshore, not ten feet from them.

  "It is a trunk," Nette replied excitedly, "a black, waterproofmotor trunk! And a suit case behind it! And oh, see, do you seethat hat box?"

  They held their breath as the strange squadron sailed majesticallyalong the guiding current into their tiny port, the trunk floatinghigh, displaying its white stenciled monogram proudly, the suitcase following, the absurd little chimney-pot ducking and bobbingin the rear. Suddenly, as the suit case seemed likely to driftout again, they rushed to the bank, and while Nette dragged thetrunk to shelter Antony strode into the water and gathered in thesmaller craft.

  They were all of wicker, with a lining of oiled silk and a coveringof thick waterproof rubber material, and as Nette pulled at thefastenings of the trunk and flung back the lid it was at onceevident that both these shielding materials had admirably performedtheir office: the contents were uninjured. They looked upon ashallow tray divided into two parts. In one lay what was apparentlya small, fantastically shaped cloud of palest mauve. Upon one sideof this cloud there was fastened with a sort of jewel a long, softfeather of a slightly deeper tint of mauve. This feather curledcaressingly about the cloud and Antony's experience instructed himthat the object was quite terrestrial--was, in fact, a hat. Anindistinguishable, fluffy, shimmering mass of mauve filled theother compartment, and in the cover a cunning artificer had set afair-sized mirror, surrounded by numerous loops of leather whichheld brushes, combs, and other toilet accessories. As Antonyregarded this collection of objects, he was aware of a long, softsigh, and turning to his companion he beheld her bowing as in atrance before them, lost, like the persons in a well-known hymn, inwonder, love and praise.

  "Oh! How perfect!" she breathed, and at the picture of her,dripping and draggled, shivering and ecstasied, he shook his headin thoughtful amazement.

  "Now, Miss Nette," he said abruptly, "do you know what you aregoing to do. This is simply too extraordinary to be anything lessthan providential. You are going to follow me into this little shedand when I have taken the trunk there, you are going to put oneverything you can find in it. If there's anything sensible enoughthere, please give yourself a good rub-down with it. Will you takecold with your hair wet?" he added masterfully.

  Either moisture or the sight of the mauve glories had taught hermeekness, for:

  "Oh, no, my hair will dry in a few minutes--it dries very quickly,"she assured him, adding timidly, "but ought I--they are so lovely--have we any right----"

  "I suppose you have a right to avoid pneumonia," he interrupted herrudely "and as far as the question of rights is concerned, this israther late in the d
ay to go into that, I think!"

  He marched to the little shed, bearing the trunk, as it had beenthe crown regalia, on outstretched arms, and Nette, wringing herhair and murmurmg incoherent abnegations concerning herunworthiness of the mauve mysteries, followed nevertheless.

  Repeating sternly his injunctions as to the value of thoroughrub-downs, he left her, and falling upon the suit case, which heprophetically connected with the comforting masculine hat box, hecarried it behind the shed, and at a chivalrous distance opened itThen in that deserted wood there was a silence, like that whichfell in heaven, for the space of half an hour and, it may be, alittle longer. At the end of this silence there appeared frombehind a large oak a very dignified and handsome young gentlemanattired, perhaps a thought impractically for his surroundings,in a fleckless frock coat with the appurtenances usuallythereto accredited by our leading metropolitan tailors, such asstiffly creased grey trousers, patent-leather shoes, and delicategloves dangled in the hand. Walking somewhat mincingly, thisgentleman, elaborately backing around the shed and apparently notobserving it, sought a rubber-incased hat box lying on the ground,and stooping gingerly, unclasped it, drew from it a glossy, blackhat, and after a few affectionate strokings, which, applied to itssurface, could but recall to any student of literature the paintingof the lily, placed the same upon his sleek head with an absorbedand even slightly terrified expression, which melted slowly intoone of deep satisfaction. After this he coughed politely andprepared to back again around the little hut. In this operation hewas, however, interrupted by a soft tug at one of his almosttoo perfect coat tails.

  "I look very well, too, I think," said a hesitating, sweet voice,and in an instant he was bareheaded before her.

  Charming as Nette had appeared in her simple walking dress, Antonywas utterly unprepared for the picture she now presented. In theabsurd and yet wonderfully effective setting of the brown, buddingtrees, the broken and forbidding rocks, against the dull backgroundof the dingy, decaying hut, her soft, pale tints of hat and gowngleamed like some one of the perfumed daintinesses Watteau tracedupon his tricksy, tempting court fans. The whole costume, from thesweeping cavalier feather to the saucy, buckled slippers, recalledsubtly that delightful pretense at Arcadia, that amusing pastoralfiguring and posturing that broke under a sigh too ardent, apressure too fiery, into the scented powder puff and the satinstays. One looked for a spinet, garlanded with golden cupids, for awhite lamb smelling like Araby the blest, for a wreathed crook witha tiny mirror artfully set in its curve. To gaze upon thatdiabolically contrived simplicity was to produce in the susceptiblebreast, and most particularly in the susceptible masculinebreast, an odd tumult of sensations too conflicting in their naturefor description.

  Nette's hair ran vine-like under the melting, tender-colouredplume; her skin glowed softly rosy, and two faint violet shadowsunder her brilliant eyes toned sweetly with the colours of hermisleading gown. Around her neck on a slender golden chain was hunga singularly perfect fresh-water pearl, large, with shiftingcolours, utterly unadorned by any jeweller's fancies; an odd andvery elegant bauble that caught Antony's eye instantly.

  "Mademoiselle," he began, "you are--you are----" he paused, forgenuine lack of words. "You are absurdly charming," he concluded,not altogether lamely, after all, and she swept him a gracefulcourtesy, her long, pale sash-ends floating out against the roughbark behind her. Nor was Master Antony displeased at thesatisfaction at his appearance which he surprised in her eyes.Intrinsically inartistic indeed is the garb of our modern male, andyet to our accustomed eye there is a fine air of fitness, a graveelegance, in his sombre bifurcation; an ordered poetry in hiscandid vest, his lustrous neck scarf; a twinkling luxuriousnessin his polished and costly footwear. All this appeared toperfection in Antony's dignified figure, just sufficiently abovethe middle height to allow of his being called tall.

  "The sleeves," he informed her, "are a little short and I am notsure that I have not stretched the shoulder seams a little, but theshoes are exactly my own size. The underwear," he added absently,"was silk. Apricot colour----"

  "My shoes," she began hastily, "are too large, but I think I cankeep them on. The skirt is too long, of course, but I can hold itup. The hat," she concluded, with softened eyes, "I should like tobe buried in."

  "I should dislike to have you buried in it," he said briefly, "andnow," he continued briskly, "the next thing is to get away. I haveput all my things into the suit case and I will, with yourpermission, put yours there too. Then we will leave the suit caseand the hat box under a pile of old boughs near where I dressed,and the trunk--is there anything in the trunk?" he broke off.

  "No, I put them all on," she assured him, flushing delightfully."There was just enough--of everything."

  "I see. Well, I think we'll simply leave it here. Perhaps I mighthide it a little," and he tossed a dusty roll of cocoa matting anda coil of rope over the receptacle, which being small became fromthat moment unnoticed.

  "And now," said Antony, when he had conveyed the neat, damp rollshe handed him to its hiding place, "let us get along. We can do nobetter than follow this path, which seems to grow broader, ifanything, and it stands to reason we must come out somewhere. I mayas well confess that I have a very poor idea of location, and Idon't as yet find any landmarks. From the moment that we struck offinto that field track I lost my bearings entirely. I should supposewe were opposite--or almost opposite--Brookdale; perhaps a bitlower down. We can get a rig and drive back probably--unless we dieof hunger," he ended angrily. "I have only a little change with me--forgot it when I changed my clothes, of course, this morning. Isuppose, though, I could get some money on this," and he fingeredthe scarf pin at his throat. It was a horseshoe of small diamondsof the purest water, and as Nette's eyes fastened on it she startedsuddenly.

  "Was that what you had on this morning?" she asked.

  "No," he answered, flushing a little. "I found it in a jeweller'sbox on the top of the things in the suit case, with a letter. Ihave the letter--it says only 'Amory' on it. I put the pin on," atrifle shamefacedly, "more or less to go with the whole rig, youknow!"

  Antony looked very boyish as he made this confession and Nettecould but smile as he fingered the little horseshoe consciously.This smile was not lost upon the youth, and turning, he walked onin silence, advancing steadily if delicately along the path, which,though narrow enough to force them into single file, wassufficiently clear to afford a certain margin of safety toNette's billowy splendours. Antony occasionally held back athreatening bough, and she from time to time moaned apprehensivelyas some projecting stump detained her drapery for a terrifyingsecond; but for this they exchanged no further conversation.

  Antony's faculties, stretched to their utmost since morning,unfortified by food, absolutely refused to rally around him on thisoccasion, and though he cudgelled his brains for a solution of theprobabilities of his conduct when they should emerge from the wood,it was a useless performance. He was capable of walking erectlythrough the trees, of keeping his shoes bright, of shielding hishat from indignity--and of nothing more. Thus oblivious to all butthe sensations of the moment, he plodded steadily on, and it waswith an expression of positive stupor that he burst all at once andwithout the slightest transition of the foliage out of the rudewoods into a trim gravel road flanked by incredibly artificialLombardy poplars. In front of him swept a terraced lawn; far acrossit rose a lordly Elizabethan mansion composed, apparently, ofweathered oak and gay window boxes; a marvellously rolledtennis court swam before his dazzled eyes. As he felt Nette at hisside and opened his lips to speak, a loud, triumphant shout burstupon the air and a carriage and pair stationed at the end of thedrive sprang into rapid motion towards them.

  "'Ere you are, sir! 'Ere! Just in time, sir, jump in! All right,sir--I knew by the lady's dress--could you h'open the dooryourself, sir? Mr. Richard said he knew you'd try the old road--'owever did you get over the old bridge, sir? I doubt we can makeit this late, but we'll try. Excuse me, sir, but there's no timefor talk--in
you go, sir!"

  Under the piercing eye of the garrulous old servant Nette slippedinto the brougham and Antony after her, as one in a dream. The fatbays literally galloped along the crushed stone, whirled through anelaborate iron gateway, and devoured the stretch of country roadwhose scattered houses Antony tried in vain to identify.

  "Where are we going?" Nette asked fearfully, but he could onlyshake his head.

  "Somewhere near a railroad station, I hope," he answered; "wecouldn't very well walk along the road dressed like this.Evidently this old idiot knows your dress--that's veryunfortunate."

  "He cannot know it," she insisted, "for it has never been worn. Iam sure of it."

  "Nonsense," said Antony brutally, and at her incredulousdispleasure he softened only so far as to demand:

  "Then how did he know you?"

  "I don't know," she admitted, and they drew up suddenly among acrowd of carriages and motor-cars gathered around a quaint stonechurch.

  "Now we'll slip out," Antony began, when all at once a slenderyoung man sprang to the door of the brougham, wrenched it open,seized Antony's hand, and burst into a torrent of language.

  "Well, you took your time, didn't you? At last! Ritchie was sickwith rage--till we got the telegram. How's Auguste? Car gaveout, of course. Poor Emily felt dreadfully. Miss---excuse me, butall I can think of is Gertrude, you can just get in--dash over tothe cloister and they've left a place, _So_ glad to have met you--yes, indeed. This is Williamson. Please ask for mother's carriagedirectly the ceremony is over--we're going to form an arch orsomething at the house. Hurry up, old man--I had all your work. Therest are in by this time, but I have to attend to the carriages andyou are to take in the late ones. Family on left of white ribbons--for heaven's sake, Miss Gertrude--_run!_"

  He dragged Nette from the step and raced her toward the church; shelifted her skirts and skimmed like a swallow beside him. Antonystumbled to the puffing old coachman, pulled all the silver out ofhis pocket and handed it to him mechanically.

  "Thank you kindly, sir--I did my best. So many not knowing eitheryou or the young lady, sir, it was 'ard for us, but I did my best.She looks beautiful, they tell me--h'isn't that some one waving foryou, sir?"

  Antony ran wildly towards the church door, whence issued a pompousand familiar peal from the organ; a strongly accented march, towhose measures, he reflected dizzily, no one whom he had yetencountered had ever been able to adapt his steps. He peered up thelittle, crowded aisle. Half-way along it paced a solemn party ofyoung men; four visions of mauve and feathers followed them, andeven as he removed his hat four more hurried past him and enteredthe door. They were in couples, each bearing a great armful ofwhite and purple sweet peas, and the maiden nearest him in the lastcouple, flushed and panting, with one bare arm, was none other thanpoor Uncle Julius's godmother's own daughter's stepdaughter! Shemoved demurely, her eyes downcast, the great pearl rising with herquick breath, and Antony wiped the troubled sweat from his brow. Astir behind him, a murmured, sighing tribute, and the bride waspassing by. White as the lilies in her hands, a frostlike veilfalling over her glistening train, she glided beside her portlyfather, and the crowded little church turned to mark her passage asa hedge of sunflowers seeks the sun.

  Antony sighed and turned to confront a massive lady swathed inrose-coloured satin and variously adorned with precious stones ofall colours. She fixed him with a protruding grey eye and directedtoward him a hissing whisper.

  "I am the bride's Aunt!" she declared. Antony stared vaguely ather.

  "And I hope there is a seat well to the front," she continuedseverely, if hoarsely.

  With a shock of comprehension Antony thrust forward his arm.

  "I am sure that there is, madam," he said politely, "pray come withme."

  And so it happened that he led the massive satin creature up theaisle in the wake of that mystic procession, outwardly a mask ofcourtly solicitude, but within him the premonitions of whirlingmania. He was literally faint with hunger; the strong sweetnessof the lilies and other aromatic plants disposed about the churchfor its decoration affected him almost unpleasantly with theircloying odours, and the menacing fear that with every step he wasinvolving himself further in a list of crimes so confused as to be,perhaps, yet uncatalogued in the annals of the law, shadowed his soul.

  "_I, Emily Hildegarde, take thee, Richard_----"

  the tones of the frost-like bride were as clear and silvery as herveil. Richard would encounter a certain amount of self-possession,it appeared. But perhaps young women were all self-possessed, now.Antony could not recall a bride that had trembled in hisexperience.

  The solemn service hastened to its conclusion. Suppose the marriageshould prove to have been invalid because of a fraudulent andcriminal usher? It might be possible. . . .

  "I am sorry, but the church is filled," he murmured suavely to abeseeching violet-scented pair, marvelling at his own self-command.

  It was over. Mendelssohn announced it and his echoes shook thewindows. Two more hopeful voyagers had launched out upon life,arm in arm down the smiling, tearful aisle; two more combatantswith armour scarcely buckled smiled boastfully on entering thefield, nor noted that it was strewn with the breakage of theirpredecessors!

  Thus cynically did Antony muse as the glowing pair swept by, whenall at once a soft voice murmured close to his ear:

  "Ask for Mrs. Williamson's carriage!"

  She was gone. They were all gone, in a perfumed cloud of mauve, andwith a bound he cleared the three entrance steps and ran to thecrowd of vehicles that began to move about.

  "Is Mrs. Williamson's carriage here?" he called loudly, and, as aone-horse coupe drew up to him, the odour of sweet peas was waftedacross his nostrils and she swept in beside him, jealously guardingher skirts from harmful contacts. Obedient to her imperativegesture, he took his seat beside her, and feeling unable to combineinto any intelligible sentence his emotions and apprehensions,gazed questioningly into her flushed and sparkling countenance. Shepressed the sweet peas to her breast, and as the carriage moved offat a rapid pace she looked deep into his eyes and spoke.

  "Wasn't she lovely?" she said dreamily.

  Antony opened his mouth and closed it, opened it again and againclosed it. For a moment it seemed to him that his mind was reelingfrom its foundations; that perhaps, after all, he was thelegitimate usher of Emily's wedding and that this lustrous-eyedcreature with him was Gertrude . . . and then a wholesome rage cameto his assistance.

  "For heaven's sake," he cried, "talk reasonably! Where are wegoing? What town is this? Do you realise the awful situation we arein? I shall go raving mad if this thing keeps up much longer!"

  She laid a small gloved hand on his knee and spoke calmly to thequivering youth.

  "Listen," she said, "I do not see that we can do better thango on to the house. It is a very big wedding and we can mix veryeasily in the crowd if only I can get another dress--or a longcoat, somewhere. Perhaps I can. Especially now, when hardly any oneis here yet. Then you can get hold of a carriage and we can driveto the station. We can at least get something to eat, for I knowhow hungry you are. Nobody knows who half the people are at awedding--it is the safest place in the world for--for----"

  "For escaping criminals," he concluded bitterly, yet with anunreasonable lightening of heart. "It is true, nobody will know me.And perhaps I can find out where we are."

  "And who we are," she reminded him, smiling kindly.

  He was amazed at the almost maternal gentleness, the sweet poise ofher manner. She might have been the very bridesmaid she simulated.

  "Did any one speak to you?" he asked curiously.

  She shook her head.

  "I was so late. I think I am _her_ friend, and they don't seem toknow each other so very well. The first four are friends, butmy four, no. Still, I can't very well see them again, for she willask about me--oh, who can this be?"

  They had turned in at a different gate from the one by which theyhad left and were following a driveway that l
ed along a series ofstables and offices. From one of these a house-maid ran out,stopping the carriage with a gesture. At her embarrassed requestAntony opened the carriage door.

  "I was to ask the first one that came by this way, if you please--you are an usher, aren't you, sir?"--Antony nodded grimly--"to goto the laundry, right here, sir, and pick out the best arches.They're in the tubs. The other gentlemen will help carry them in.Mr. Richard thought the ladies would know best about the arches,"she added shyly, Smiling graciously, Nette stepped lightly from thecoupe, and as Antony followed her she nodded to the coachman,

  "You may go back now," she said, "we will walk up to thehouse in a few moments."

  He touched his hat and drove on, the house-maid hastened in thesame direction, and Nette, followed by her companion, stepped intothe laundry. There indeed were the arches, twined with purple andwhite sweet peas; the dim, damp room reeked and bloomed with them.As they confronted each other uncertainly, a high, excited voicefloated toward them, evidently nearing rapidly.

  "We must have every carriage guarded and the trains watched, that'sall. They must be in the house, and they had no luggage, so how canthey change their clothes? That dress will mark the womanabsolutely. They will try for a motor, of course."

  Steps were at the laundry door. In an agony of terror Antonydragged the girl into a back room, and hardly knowing what he did,beckoned her up a narrow, dingy stair. Like shadows they fled upit, and crouched at its head listening to the tramping feet of whatwas evidently a group of men: young men from their tone and manner.

  "It's perfectly clear," began the unmistakable voice of Williamson,"they are, of course, that same couple that got off withthree big touring cars last season. It's their specialty. The mandrives like a demon, and the woman is the coolest little devil thatever walked. They have Amory's car, they got the clothes, and bycoming so late they actually put the thing through. I hope nojewelry is gone, but we mustn't alarm the guests at any cost--Emilywould never forgive us."

  "The woman is marked--I know all the bridesmaids now, and I shallmake it my business to locate the eighth. Harvey, will you staywith the presents? Ritch, like a fool, refused to have adetective."

  "What did he look like, Williamson?" some one demanded.

  "Kick me, if you want to, Harvey, I couldn't tell to save mylife I--I was so excited, and he was so decent about it--he's justlike anybody else. And I'm the only one that said a word to him--it's maddening! We'll have to let him go--we can't grab every manwe see, and nobody knows who half these people are. But watch thedining-room. Amory ought to be here any minute. He's nearly crazy,I suppose."

  "Oh, I don't know," drawled a third voice. "If his preciousGertrude is with him, what's a scarf pin more or less to Ammy?"

  "Nevertheless, I'm sorry for the man that took that car," saidWilliamson curtly, and Antony bit his lip nervously on the stairsas he listened to the low murmur of assent that followed.

  "Well, don't let us stay here all night," Williamson began againfussily. "Grab some of these damned wreaths, you fellows, and seeif we can get them up to the house without sitting down in them!"

  They bustled out, arguing over the best methods of tracking downtheir victims, who cowered miserably above them. Fear, insensate,reasonless fear, had laid his quivering, livid fingers on theirshoulders, and chilled the blood in their veins. To get away--to get away, at any cost!

  Antony, stooping over the crouching figure by his side, whisperedin her ear:

  "I'll step down and look about a bit. There must be some way--I'llget you a coat somewhere and we can slip out. Wait here."

  All was empty and silent in the laundry, but as he stopped a momentbehind the door before peering out, a hand knocked gently on it anda boy's voice questioned softly.

  "Are ye' there, then? Are ye, sir?" Instinctively and before hecould catch back the word, Antony whispered hoarsely:

  "Yes!"

  "I'll be puttin' this in the durway, then, and Miss Delia Nolansaid for me to say for ye to please wait an hour for her, an' she'dsurely come. She does be needed in the bedrooms upstairs to watchthe ladies' clothes f'r fear they'd be stolen, she says. But ifye'll wait the hour, she'll be with you, with more, maybe, if shecan get it. Trust me for the horses, sir!"

  There was a rattle and a thud as of some heavy object deposited onthe floor in the open door, and the messenger scurried away.Antony looked cautiously around the door, and as he looked his eyesgrew large and round, for there before him lay a mammoth trayfilled with dainties to wake an appetite in one far less famishedthan poor Antony. Two half-emptied bottles reared their gratefulpromise high in the middle, and the jellied fowl vied with thecrusted croquet, the rich pActA(C) gleamed among the feathery wheatenrolls, the lobster nestled coyly in his luscious mayonnaise,seeming indeed to blush under the young man's ardent anddevouring gaze. Breathlessly he lifted it, eagerly he bore it tothat musty upper room, and there, with soft little cries ofsurprise from her and long-drawn sighs of satisfaction from him,they fell upon it. With every morsel of the food, with everythroatful of the heartening, still beaded wine, courage, nay,audacity, crept softly over their jaded spirits, as the gentle butinevitable tide creeps up the beach.

  "To Miss Delia Nolan!" he cried lightly, raising high his glass;"long life to her and her coachman!"

  And "long life to her and her coachman!" Nette echoed, smiling fromthe broken chair she sat upon at Antony, who knelt before the tray.Through the chinks of the closed, dusty blinds vivid pencils oflight streaked her delicate dress: she gleamed like a modish crocusin the bare lumber room. The rich viands before her, the daintyopalescence of the frozen sweet she held in a tinted, flower-shapedglass, the very dusk of the closed chamber, making her youth andloveliness more jewel-like, all enhanced the piquancy of thepicture she presented. Antony's resolution flamed high in him:should such pluck, such beauty, such resource, be capturednow, now after all they had gone through?

  Never! He swore it.

  As he registered this oath she rose lightly from her chair, andstill jealously protecting her billowy skirts, began to peer aboutthe room. Of a sudden she stopped and stood like a pointer dog, onefinger raised to command his attention.

  "What is in that basket?" she whispered excitedly.

  There was no need to whisper, for not only the laundry but all theground about it was absolutely deserted. But secrecy and flighthave but one language and must conspire in whispers at the Poleitself. The basket in question, which lay in the darkest corner ofthe room, was of the description commonly in use among laundresseswhen they would return the purified objects of their toil. Bendingover this, Nette fumbled a moment among its contents, and with atriumphant exclamation held up to Antony's bewildered vision afresh, creased garment striped alternately with blue and white.

  "And here is the apron! And here is the cap!" she murmuredexultantly, "now I defy that horrid Mr. Williamson to findme! 'A marked woman,' indeed!"

  Instantly the feasibility of the plan struck him, and hecongratulated her warmly.

  "Now all we need is to know where we are," he assured her, "andenough money to get away from it, wherever it is, and we are safe!I will step out and look about a bit while you change your dress; Ifeel confident that we shall find some means--luck would not havethe heart to desert us now!"

  He tiptoed, needlessly, it is true, down to the laundry, and in thevery act of opening the door stumbled upon a plump old gentleman--the very gentleman upon whose doubtless paternal arm the frost-likebride had preceded Antony to the altar. Ere the youth had time tocatch his breath the portly one addressed him querulously.

  "Oh! how d'ye do? So dark in here--senseless place to send a man!No more sweet peas, that I can see--can you? Pack-horse, too, Isuppose like the rest of us? Fine business for my guests!"

  "There is not a sweet pea left, sir," said Antony respectfully,"and if there were any I should certainly not allow you toundertake the transportation of them. You have enough on yourmind, I should say." With a long drawn sigh the portly gen
tlemansank upon an inverted wash tub and wrung his hands miserably.

  "Never in my life!" he mourned, "never in all my entire life!"

  Antony uttered a soothing sound, of vague but apparentlysatisfactory import.

  "Not that we mind the loss of the car at all," continued the oldgentleman, more collectedly now, "only this morning his mother toldme with tears in her eyes that she had offered him the price of itto give it up; so far as that goes, she is, as she only just nowinformed me, thanking her Creator on her bended knees and beggingHim never to let us see or hear of that horrible machine again.Ammy promised her on his honour that if anything happened tothis one, he would never buy another. It was his seventh."

  Antony's heart leaped up, but he spoke decorously.

  "It seems to me, sir," he said, "that you will, in all humanprobability, never see that car again."

  "Thank God!" said his host fervently. "What is a stickpin toRichard?" he demanded explosively, "what, in heaven's name, do Icare for a paltry fresh water pearl? It is the disgrace, thepublicity; the laughing stock--in my house they tell me, thesescoundrels are! At my daughter's wedding. Eating my food at thismoment, perhaps, Mr. Williamson warns me!"

  "This Mr. Williamson," said Antony gently, "seems to be a very keenperson."

  "The keenest," replied the old gentleman eagerly, "he is huntingfor the woman now. It is unfortunate that he is the only one of theushers who did not know Ammy, you see."

  "I see. It was certainly unfortunate," said Antony suavely.

  "Ammy is due in a few minutes," said the old gentleman, pulling outa wealthy gold watch, "and here I am sitting here! I am soovercome, you must excuse me. The five:three. I was to sendsomeone."

  "Can I not go, sir?" Antony asked feverishly, "just get mesomebody's trap--anybody's--and let me go to get him and save youany further trouble."

  "Why, that is very kind, I am sure," said Gertrude's father, "Iwill call the first one I see."

  There was a scurrying down the narrow stair and as the oldgentleman turned to go, a neat and very pretty housemaid rushedtowards him.

  "O sir, excuse me, sir," she cried, blushing delightfully, "butMiss Gertrude said I was to ask you for five dollars, sir, to payfor the C. O. D, at the station, sir. She wants it immediately. Ifsome one is going down, sir, could he take me?"

  With a practiced hand the father of the bride reached into hispocket, lifted from it a thick, green bundle, and placed a bill inthe pink trembling hand held out for it.

  "This gentleman here will take you down directly, Mary--Delia--er,my dear," he said kindly, "I don't recall his name at the moment,but we are all very informal to-day, and I'm sure he won't object.--Here, boy, call me a carriage--anybody's! I'll see you later,my dear boy, and I am much obliged."

  "Don't mention it, sir," Antony replied, and leaped nimbly into agorgeous station-waggon, taking his seat beside the driver. Thehousemaid, displaying, as she mounted to the back seat, remarkablehosiery and footgear for one in her humble walk of life, followedquickly, and forth they drove.

  The blood was tingling in his fingertips, his head reeled with astrange mixture of terror and delight--the intoxication of theartist in dangerous adventure--but Antony's voice was level as heinquired of the driver beside him:

  "And what's the next station up the road, do you know?"

  "Brookdale, sir, and there you can get the other road if you wantit."

  "I see. And is this the up train?"

  "Yes, sir. I suppose Mr. Amory had to go out of his way to make anyconnection--the trains are poor here, sir. Mr. Ashley had to havetwo specials put on for to-day. You see, Cliffwood is a smallplace, sir."

  Cliffwood! Antony could have kicked himself for notrecognising in all this pomp of iron-gated villas, the scatteredcollection of estates thus poetically christened.

  "That's a bad business about them murdering thieves, isn't it,sir?" pursued the driver confidentially.

  Antony's heart sank like lead. "Murdering?" he gasped, "did theFrenchman die, then?"

  "Oh, him!" returned the driver scornfully, "no, he didn't, theforeign pup. How could he--that old snake hasn't a fang in hishead!"

  Antony grasped the seat beneath him and drew a long, deep breath.

  "I--I am glad to hear it," he said concisely, and as he spoke theincoming train whistled--a mellow, pleasing note that sang offreedom (yea, and guiltless freedom!) to wedding guest andhousemaid alike.

  Forth from the train, ere hardly it had stopped, leaped an eagerpair, a man and a maid, not too precisely attired, for theirgarments were rumpled and not such as the critical in these mattersassume when bound for a wedding festival. Yet they did not seemunhappy, these two, but rather lenient and tender in theirjudgments upon all the world, for they smiled sweetly uponthe empty platform, and sweetly, if a little vaguely, upon Antony,who advanced to meet them, hat in hand.

  "Mr. Amory, I presume?" he said airily. "I came down to get you,but I find I must send a telegram, on account of the trains runningso poorly here, and so I will not detain you a second, as I am sureyou cannot see Mrs.--Mrs. Richard too soon. They will send back forme."

  "Thanks, old man--are they caught?" cried the lately arrived,making for the station-waggon, and staring at the diamond horseshoein Antony's pearl grey tie, Antony touched it knowingly and smiled.

  "No. They are not caught yet," he said, "but we're on the scent!"

  "Good!" exclaimed the other, "now jump in, dear," and as the lastbit of baggage left the train and the waggon turned, Antony fledthrough the station and raced up the steps of the moving car, handin hand with the pretty housemaid.

  They seated themselves amid curious and friendly smiles.

  "I will speak when the wheels are well started," thought Antony,and then, "when she gets her breath, I will say something,"but with each minute overwhelming embarrassment wrapped him, moredeeply, and he sat, with averted eyes, in silence. Just as theyslackened pace to pause at Brookdale and he motioned her to rise,she spoke, huskily and with an evident effort.

  "What will you do with the chain and the pin?"

  "Put them, with all these clothes and five dollars, in the trunk,row the three pieces across the river, meet them with a cart andexpress them to Mr. Ashley from Turnersville," he answered,promptly and with a rapid lucidity which astonished himself.

  "They will be surprised," she remarked indifferently, as shedescended the steps of the train, and:

  "It is probable that they will," he agreed.

  * * * * *

  It was some three hours later that a vehicle conducted by one horsemoved solitary under a rich and rising moon along the fairwhite road that leads to one of the most venerable if not thelargest of our colleges. Dogged by its own black shadow, whosewheels, smaller but no less symmetrical, rolled silently besideit, this vehicle would inevitably have stirred romantic interestin the breast of any imaginative spectator of its progress. Andthis with reason, for one of its two occupants was a girl, who slept,white-faced beneath the moon, her head, on which was perched askew ahousemaid's cap, drooped forward on her breast, her lips slightlyparted. The other, a well-dressed young man, allowed the easy-goingbeast to pick its own way, the while he gazed at the sleeping face,compassionately, it would seem, for all at once, with a pityingexclamation, he slipped his arm behind her, and gently guided herhead to his shoulder. With a sigh of relief she nestled against himand her face relaxed with the comfort of her new attitude, whilestill she slept. Thus they drove on for many minutes, nor did hiseyes once leave that white, appealing face. So small she seemed, sohelpless--could this slender creature have stood by him sogallantly, have matched her wits so triumphantly against theincredible crises of the past day? Day? Antony felt that theordinary partitions of time had henceforth no meaning for him andthat the philosopher who questioned the validity of time itselfknew well whereof he had written.

  What a spirit the girl had! How beautiful she had looked in thewood! He sighed, and at that or some other slight sound she openedher
eyes and gazed in terror at him. And as she gazed the terrorslowly melted and disappeared, a lovely child-like confidence grewin its place, and she spoke softly.

  "It is you!" she said, and half awake, she smiled deliciously,straight into his bending eyes, "you are here?"

  A great wave seemed to break in Antony's breast.

  "Here?" he cried, deep voiced, "where could I be but here--withyou? Who could be here--but me?"

  Fully awakened now, she started from him, a flood of red sweepingher pale face as she saw where she had been resting.

  "No--no!" she stammered, "you are--we are--I was only dreamingthat----"

  With his eyes he entreated her, for their steed, spying the lightsof home, had started forward and Antony's hands were busy.

  "Ah, Nette, dearest Nette," he begged her, and something in hisvoice shook her so that she trembled beside him, "if waking makesyou hate me again, then dream! For when you dream, I am sure youlove me."

  "I do not! I do not!" she cried, covering her face with her hands.

  The eager horse tugged at the bit: Antony forced her by his merewill to meet his eyes.

  "Not?" he said, low and clearly, "Not? Not after to-day, Nette?"

  She bit her lip, and then, as the old college bell rang out ninesharp strokes she laid her arms swiftly about his neck and hischeek quivered under her warm soft hair.

  "You are right," she whispered, "after to-day--everything!"

  The streets were no longer empty. They sat, separate, with whirlinghearts, trembling under the mounting moon. They were in thefamiliar street. . . .

  "After to-day--after to-day!" he muttered dizzily, whensuddenly she laughed out beside him, sobbed brokenly, then laughedagain.

  "To-day is the first of April!" she cried.

  And once again the polished moon threw her needless glory overyouth and love and laughter.