by Thomas Dixon
CHAPTER XVIII
LOVE LAUGHS
When Helen had received a brief note from Tom the night before the electionthat he would surely reach home the next day, she snatched his picture fromthe library table with a cry of joy and rushed to her room.
She placed the little gold frame on her bureau, sat down before it andpoured out her heart in silly speeches of love, pausing to laugh and kissthe glass that saved the miniature from ruin. The portrait was an exquisitework of art on ivory which the father had commisioned a painter in New Yorkto do in celebration of Tom's coming of age. The artist had caught theboy's spirit in the tender smile that played about his lips and lingered inthe corners of his blue eyes, the same eyes and lips in line and color inthe dainty little mother's portrait over the mantel.
"Oh, you big, handsome, brave, glorious boy!" she cried in ecstasy. "Mysweetheart--so generous, so clean, so strong, so free in soul! I loveyou--I love you--I love you!"
She fell asleep at last with the oval frame clasped tight in one handthrust under her pillow. A sound sleep was impossible, the busy brain wastoo active. Again and again she waked with a start, thinking she had heardhis swift footfall on the stoop.
At daybreak she leaped to her feet and found herself in the middle of theroom laughing when she came to herself, the precious picture still claspedin her hand.
"Oh, foolish heart, wake up!" she cried with another laugh. "It's dawn, andmy lover is coming! It's his day! No more sleep--it's too wonderful! I'mgoing to count every hour until I hear his step--every minute of everyhour, foolish heart!"
She looked out the window and it was raining. The overhanging boughs of theoaks were dripping on the tin roof of the bay window in which she wasstanding. She had dreamed of a wonderful sunrise this morning. But itdidn't matter--the rain didn't matter. The slow, familiar dropping on theroof suggested the nearness of her lover. They would sit in some shadowycorner hand in hand and love all the more tenderly. The raindrops were thedrum beat of a band playing the march that was bringing him nearer witheach throb. The mocking-bird that had often waked her with his song wassilent, hovering somewhere in a tree beneath the thick leaves. She hadexpected him to call her to-day with the sweetest lyric he had ever sung.Somehow it didn't matter. Her soul was singing the song that makes allother music dumb.
"My love is coming!" she murmured joyfully. "My love is coming!"
And then she stood for an hour in brooding, happy silence and watched theghost-like trees come slowly out of the mists. To her shining eyes therewere no mists. The gray film that hung over the waking world was a bridalveil hiding the blushing face of the earth from the sun-god lover who wason his way over the hills to clasp her in his burning arms!
For the first time in her memory she was supremely happy.
Every throb of pain that belonged to the past was lost in the sea of joy onwhich her soul had set sail. In the glory of his love pain was only anothername for joy. All she had suffered was but the preparation for this supremegood. It was all the more wonderful, this fairy world into which she hadentered, because the shadows had been so deep in her lonely childhood.
There really hadn't been any past! She couldn't remember the time she hadnot known and loved Tom. Love filled the universe, past, present andfuture. There was no task too hard for her hands, no danger she was notready to meet. The hungry heart had found its own.
Through the long hours of the day she waited without impatience. Each tickof the tiny clock on the mantel brought him nearer. The hands couldn't turnback! She watched them with a smile as she sat in the gathering twilight.
She had placed the miniature back in its place and sat where her eye caughtthe smile from his lips when she lifted her head from the embroidery on herlap.
The band was playing a stirring strain in the Square. She could hear thetumult and the shouts of the crowds about the speaker's stand as they readthe bulletins of the election. The darkness couldn't hold him many moreminutes.
She rose with a soft laugh and turned on the lights, walked to the window,looked out and listened to the roar of the cheering when Norton made hisappearance. The band struck up another stirring piece. Yes, it was "Hailto the Chief!" He had come.
She counted the minutes it would take for him to elude his father and reachthe house. She pictured the smile on his face as he threaded his waythrough the throng and started to her on swift feet. She could see himcoming with the long, quick stride he had inherited from his father.
She turned back into the room exclaiming:
"Oh, foolish heart, be still!"
She seated herself again and waited patiently, a smile about the corners ofher lips and another playing hide and seek in the depths of her expressiveeyes.
Tom had entered the house unobserved by any one and softly tipped into thelibrary from the door directly behind her. He paused, removed his hat,dropped it silently into a chair and stood looking at the graceful,beautiful form bending over her work. The picture of this waiting figure hehad seen in his day-dreams a thousand times and yet it was so sweet andwonderful he had to stop and drink in the glory of it for a moment.
A joyous laugh was bubbling in his heart as he tipped softly over the thickyielding rug and slipped his hands over her eyes. His voice was thegentlest whisper:
"Guess?"
The white figure slowly rose and her words came in little ripples ofgasping laughter as she turned and lifted her arms:
"It's--it's--Tom!"
With a smothered cry she was on his breast. He held her long and closewithout a word. His voice had a queer hitch in it as he murmured:
"Helen--my darling!"
"Oh, I thought you'd never come!" she sighed, looking up through her tears.
Tom held her off and gazed into her eyes:
"It's been a century since I've seen you! I did my level best when we gotinto these nearby counties again, but I couldn't shake Dad once this week.He watched me like a hawk and insisted on staying out of town till the verylast hour of the election to-day. Did old Andy find out I slipped in lastweek?"
"No!" she laughed.
"Did Cleo find it out?"
"No."
"You're sure Cleo didn't find out?"
"Sure--but Aunt Minerva did."
"Oh, I'm not afraid of her--kiss me!"
With a glad cry their lips met.
He held her off.
"I'm not afraid of anything!"
With an answering laugh, she kissed him again.
"I'm not afraid of Dad!" he said in tones of mock tragedy. "Once more!"
She gently disengaged herself, asking:
"How did you get away from him so quickly?"
"Oh, he's making a speech to the crowd in the Square proclaiming victoryand so"--his voice fell to a whisper--"I flew to celebrate mine!"
"Won't he miss you?"
"Not while he's talking. Dad enjoys an eloquent speech--especially one ofhis own----"
He stopped abruptly, took a step toward her and cried:
"Say! Do you know what the Governor of North Carolina said once upon atime to the Governor of South Carolina?"
Helen laughed:
"What?"
He opened his arms:
"'It strikes me,' said he, 'that it's a long time between drinks!'"
Again her arms flashed around his neck.
"Did you miss me?"
"Dreadfully!" she sighed. "But I've been happy--happy in your love--oh, sohappy, dearest!"
"Well, if Dad wins this election to-night," he said with a boyish smile,"I'm going to tell him. Now's the time--no more slipping and sliding!"--hepaused, rushed to the window and looked out--"come, the clouds have liftedand the moon is rising. Our old seat among the roses is waiting."
With a look of utter happiness she slipped her arm in his and they strolledacross the lawn.