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  Just an instant she lingered by Sherrill’s side as Copeland stepped to the dining room door to look over the heads of the throng and reconnoiter for seats for them all.

  “I don’t know how you have planned,” said the old lady in something that sounded like a low growl, “nor how long this ridiculous performance has been going on, but I thought I’d remind you that it will be necessary for that girl to have some baggage if you expect to carry this thing out. I don’t want to interfere with your plans, but there’s that second suitcase, the one that wasn’t marked that we had sent up. It hasn’t been returned yet, you know. I suppose you’ll have to see that she has things enough to be decent on ship board, unless she has time enough to get some of her own. But if you let that lace evening dress or that shell-pink chiffon go, I’ll never forgive you. It’s bad enough to lose the going-away outfit, but I suppose there isn’t any way out of that. A couple of evening dresses and some casual things ought to see her through. Don’t be a fool and give up everything!” And Miss Catherwood, with her head in the air and a set smile on her aristocratic face, swept on to the dining room.

  Sherrill stood startled, looking after her doubtfully. Did that mean that Aunt Pat was angry? Angry yet going to stand by till it was all over to the last detail? Or did it mean that she understood the awful situation better than Sherrill knew? She was a canny old lady. How wonderfully she had stood and met that line of hungry gossip-mongers! But yet, she might still be angry. Very angry! To be the talk of the town when she had done so much to make this wedding perfect in every way. To have people wondering and gossiping about them! It would be dreadful for Aunt Pat!

  Sherrill had a sudden vision of what it might be to face an infuriated Aunt Pat and explain everything after it was all over, and she had that panicky impulse once more to flee away into the world and shirk it—never come back anymore. But of course she knew she never would do that!

  Then Copeland touched her on the arm.

  “Please, do we follow the rest, or what?” and she perceived that they two were left alone in the room, with only the end of the procession surging away from them toward the dining room.

  Sherrill giggled nervously.

  “I haven’t much head, have I?” she said. “I’ve got to go upstairs a minute or two and put some things in a suitcase. It won’t take long. Perhaps I’d better go now.”

  “Yes,” said Copeland thoughtfully. “Now would be a good time. I’ll wait here at the foot of the stairs for you.”

  She flew up the stairs with a quick smile back at her helper. He was marvelous! It could not be that he was an absolute stranger! It seemed as if she had known him always. Here she had almost laid bare her heart to him, and he had taken it all so calmly and done everything needful, just as if he understood all the details. No brother could have been more tender, more careful of her. She remembered his lips on her eyelids, and her breath came quickly. How gentle he had been!

  She hurried to her own room and miraculously found Gemmie there before her, the suitcase in her hand.

  “Your aunt Pat thought you might be wanting this,” said the woman respectfully, no hint of her former surprise in her eyes, no suggestion that anything was different from what it had been when the old servant left her there in her wedding dress ready to go to the church.

  “Oh yes!” said Sherrill in relief. “You’ll help me, won’t you, Gemmie?”

  With half-frenzied fingers Sherrill went to work, laying out things from her suitcase and bags, separating them into two piles upon the bed. The black satin evening dress, the orchid, and the yellow—those ought to be enough. Aunt Pat wasn’t especially crazy about any of those. She put aside the things that were marked with her own initials; not one of those should go. She shut her lips tight and drew in a sharp little breath of pain.

  Gemmie seemed to understand. She gathered those things up quickly and put them away in the bureau drawers. Gemmie’s powers of selection were even keener than Sherrill’s.

  It did not take long, three or four minutes, and Gemmie’s skillful fingers did the rest.

  “There, now, Miss Sherrill, I can manage,” she said. “You run back. They’ll be missing you.”

  It was as if Gemmie was also a conspirator.

  “Thank you, Gemmie dear!” said Sherrill with a catch in her voice like a sob, and closed the door quickly behind her.

  Copeland was waiting at the foot of the stairs, and they found places saved for them close to the bride’s table, a little table for two, and the eyes of all upon them as they sat down.

  Sherrill saw the Markham sisters looking eagerly from Copeland to herself and back again, and nodding their heads violently to one another as they swept in large mouthfuls of creamed mushrooms and chicken salad. She had an impulse to put her head down on the table and laugh, or cry. She knew she was getting very near to the limit of her self-control.

  But Copeland knew it also, and managed to keep her busy telling him who the different people were.

  After all the ordeal was soon over, even to the cutting of the wedding cake by a bride very much at her ease and enjoying her privileges to the last degree. If Arla never was happy again, she was tonight.

  And then after all the matter of the license, which loomed like a peril in Sherrill’s thoughts, was arranged so easily. Just a quiet word from the butler to Copeland, a quiet sign from Copeland to the best man. Sherrill had put money in her little pearl evening bag, which she slipped to Copeland as they went upstairs together while the bride was throwing Sherrill’s bouquet to the noisy clamoring bridesmaids down in the hall. Sherrill and Copeland were presumably escorting the bride and groom to their rooms to change into traveling garb, and no one noticed them enter the little room off the back hall where the representative of the law was waiting.

  Just a few quiet questions from the grizzly old man who had come to make the legal part right, and who looked at them as only three more in the long procession that came to him day by day. They waited, those five, the best man doing his best not to seem too curious about it all, while those important seals were placed, and the proper signature affixed, and then Sherrill hurried the bride away to dress. A frightened, almost tearful bride now—afraid of her, Sherrill was sure.

  Almost the last lap of this terrible race she was running! There would be one more. She would have to face Aunt Pat, but that she dared not think about yet. This present session with the bride who had taken her place was going to be perhaps the hardest of all.

  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 co
uldn’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 v
oice. “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?”