CHAPTER XIII
LOLA GOES TO FENWAY'S
It seemed to Dr. Crossett, waiting there in the room, with this silentold man, that John had been gone a very long time. It was almostmorning now, five hours, time enough surely for much to have happened.He had insisted, some hours before, on Maria's going to bed, for inspite of her grief she was so tired by the emotions of the evening,that it was impossible for her to keep her eyes open, and he haddiscovered her, sitting upright in a chair, sound asleep, with thetears rolling down her cheeks.
He had made many efforts to induce Dr. Barnhelm to speak of Lola, andof the events leading up to her sudden desertion of them, but to allhis questions, or remarks, the old man refused any answer, other thanto look up, almost vacantly, and shake his head.
LOLA IN DICK FENWAY'S ROOMS.]
"He is stunned," thought Dr. Crossett. "As yet his brain is too numbedto realize; to-morrow, unless John brings her home, he will bedesperate." Would she come home? That was the question. That she hadbeen extravagant, and, through a desire for beautiful clothes, hadbeen, little by little, led into a maze of debts, of which she hadbeen afraid to tell them, and that the sudden temptation, when she hadunexpectedly come upon that roll of bank notes, had been too much forher to resist. All this was obvious, and, sad as it was, was notunforgivable. That she had deceived John, however, and, day after day,had lied to him, and gone to the man whom, of all others, she had mostreason to avoid, was a treachery hard to excuse, even to this man, whowas doing his very best to find excuses.
What was the outcome to be? He could not decide. There had been somuch of real hate, and contempt, in her manner to them, that it wasout of the question to put it all down to excitement, or girlishanger.
He quite realized that she had "burned her bridges behind her," thather manner of going had left her no possibility of coming back, unlessshe came humbly, and in repentance.
Try as he might he could not picture that. Humble she might be, andrepentant, but not until her spirit was broken by suffering.
He knew much of the world, much of human nature, and he knew that shewould have to make her choice at once between evil and good. Thatalone she could not hope to live, as she had said that she was goingto live. The good in her heart might save her even now. She was like achild. When this man offered her money and all the beautiful thingsshe longed for, did she know the price she would be asked to pay? Whenshe found it out would she shut her eyes, and go blindly on, or wouldthe innate delicacy of her nature, the instinctive purity of girlhood,save her, as it has saved thousands before her? This was the onlyhope. He tried to have confidence; after all, she was her mother'sdaughter. He cherished that thought. Her child could not sink so low!Great God! She could not do it!
In the stillness of the early morning he heard the clang of the irondoors of the elevator as they were thrown open in the hall outside,and a moment later John came in.
One look at his face was enough to tell him that he brought no goodnews, but whatever it was he must know it.
"Well, John?" He came forward to meet him. "What have you to tell us?"
John looked quickly at Dr. Barnhelm, and Dr. Crossett understood thatwhat he had to tell would destroy any remaining hope that the old manmight have cherished.
"Thank you, John, for doing what you have done."
Dr. Barnhelm spoke quietly, but with a great weariness in his voice."I know that I am not alone in my sorrow, but I wish to know nothingof what you have discovered; nothing now, or ever, of where she hasgone, or of the things that she has done, or will do. I am going toask you both not to speak of her in my hearing. It must be as thoughshe were dead, until the day she comes back to me."
He rose as he finished, and walked to the door.
"But Doctor, will she ever come back?" John said despondently. "Do youthink that we shall ever see her again?"
"I am quite sure of it," Dr. Barnhelm answered. "There can be noquestion of that; she will come back."
There was no hope or joy in his voice, only absolute conviction, andsomething a little like fear, at least that was the thought that cameto them both, as he quietly left the room.
"He is wrong, Doctor," John said as the door closed. "I have seen her.She is not coming back."
"She told you so?" questioned Dr. Crossett eagerly.
"No. I did not speak to her. I saw her going up Broadway in DickFenway's automobile. He was with her. She had gone to him. Is with himnow. I tried to stop them, but I failed. They were not alone. They hada Mrs. Harlan with them."
"A woman! Thank God for that," exclaimed the Doctor. "We may be intime yet, my boy."
"You don't know this woman," John spoke bitterly. "Her presencewouldn't protect any girl from such a man as that. She laughs at thethings you and I call decency, or virtue. Between Dick Fenway and sucha woman, Lola hasn't a chance; not a hope! They won't stop, either ofthem, until they have dragged her down to their own level!"
"I will go to her," the Doctor spoke eagerly. "She would fear me lessthan she would you, or her father, because she has wronged me less. Iwill go there, as soon as it is daylight."
LOLA IS HAPPY IN DOCTOR FENWAY'S ROOMS.]
"Go where? Do you suppose that if I could have found out where theyhave taken her that I would be here now?" demanded John. "I went tothis Mrs. Harlan's apartment as fast as a taxicab could get me there.Her maid said that Mrs. Harlan had not returned, and was not expectedbefore late in the following day. The hall boys absolutely deniedhaving seen her since noon. What was I to do? While I stood there atthe door she may have been standing within six feet of me, laughing atme, as she did once before to-night. How was I to know? I left there,and rode downtown to Fenway's rooms, on the chance that he had lefther. They let me go upstairs to his apartment. At the door a servanttried to stop me, but I threw him aside, and went in. There was acrowd of half-drunken men and girls there. I asked for him, and theytold me that they hardly expected him to return as he had gone awaywith a regular peach! Damn them! They wouldn't tell me where I couldhope to find him, and when I grew excited they laughed at me. By God,Doctor, I've been laughed at too often to-night. Someone is going topay me for it."
"My dear boy," said the Doctor gently, "surely we have enough to bearnow; bringing another tragedy into our lives is not going to do anygood."
"What's the use of talking?" John was quite unnerved by all theexperiences and shocks of the last few hours. "I came here because itwas useless to search any more until daylight. But I am going to findthat man. He can't hide himself from me forever. He may take her away.He probably will, but I'll go after them. Not to bring her back; Ican't do that. I can't ever, ever think of her again with anything butpity, but, by God, I can take him out of her life; yes, and I am goingto do it!"
"My dear boy!" Dr. Crossett would have given much to be able tocomfort him, but as he had said, "it wasn't any use to talk, supposewe sleep over this. We can't do anything for several hours yet, and weare both tired out. Come!"
"Sleep! Do you expect me to sleep with the thought of Lola and thatmean being together, driving me almost insane? Oh, I was a fool tocome here. I should have kept on hunting for them. I must have knownyou wouldn't understand. You don't know what it is to love a girl, andto lose her; to think of her and some other man living, laughing,loving one another, without a thought of you."
For a moment the Doctor seemed about to reply, but with only a slighthesitation he smiled rather sadly to himself, and spoke gently butwith a trace of irony.
"We will grant, John, that I do not understand; that I know nothing ofloving a woman whom fate sees fit to separate me from; but I do knowthis: Always there must be one love stronger than another; as it waswith you and Lola, so it always is. One who loves, and gives, one whois loved, and takes; not always selfishly, but always it is so. Inyour life you may love again, for you are young, but you will neveragain be able to give to any woman just what you gave to her. It isnot any man's to give more than once. If I were you I should try to beworthy of t
he love that, on your part at least, was a very sacredthing. Any scandal you bring upon her now, any act of selfish revengefor your very real wrongs, is just going to become the darkest shadowon your memory of her. If I could do it, my boy, I should forget thewoman, and only remember the love you had for her, for in all yourlife you will never know a finer thing."
"You are a good man, Doctor, and I am ashamed for having spoken as Idid," replied John earnestly. "I can't make you any promise, becauseto me there is only one thing to live for, just now--to find them.What will happen then I don't know, but I must speak to her once more,and to him. I am going home now, to change my clothes, and to write anote to the bank. You must try to get some sleep. I will see youduring the day."
"Am I to depend upon that?" inquired the Doctor.
"Yes," John answered. "No matter what happens I will keep youinformed."
He went away, down the elevator, and through the deserted streets, tohis rooms. He saw no beauty in the dim, misty light of the summermorning, or the faint glow of the first rays of the rising sun. He sawnothing but Lola's face, as she had stood up in Fenway's car, andlooked back, and laughed at him.
When Maria came into the front room to put it straight beforebreakfast she found Dr. Crossett still sitting where John had lefthim. He looked up and spoke pleasantly to her as she entered, but shethought that he had, as she expressed it to herself, "a queer, far-offlook in his eyes, like a person that had been thinking of things thathad happened a long time ago."
* * * * *
Lola was sleeping very peacefully in a large and rather ornate brassbed, in one of Mrs. Harlan's guest rooms. As she lay there, dressed inone of that lady's absurdly ample night robes, she was smiling toherself happily--some freak of what we choose to call oursub-conscious mind had flashed across her brain--a dream. There was nohardness in her face now, no look of fear, or glitter of excitement inher eyes. She was dreaming of John, and the day he had brought her abeautiful bunch of roses; little Nellie, poor little girl, was there.
"Take them, dear," she muttered softly. "You don't mind, do you,John?" And John smiled back at her, as they both thrilled at thememory of their first kiss. How good he was, she thought; how gentleand--darkness, absolute darkness, such as the mind cannot picture--afierce pang shooting through her heart, like a flame--slowly--lifecoming back, life and thought--and memory--but the pain was there, anda horror, a new burning in her blood, like that awful burning in herheart. What was it--this thing that frightened her--this new, strangenature that forced her to do its will? She must get away, far awayfrom these thoughts; she must run, quick--quick, or it would be toolate. She must have help. "Father! Father! Father!"
The sound of her own voice woke her, and she found herself sitting upin bed, her hand clutching at her heart.
"Lola! What in the world is it?" Mrs. Harlan came running into herroom. "Good heavens, how you frightened me."
"It was a dream," said Lola, the terror slowly fading out of her face."A bad dream, and such a queer pain, here." She laid her hand againover her heart.
"You're not used to late suppers, I guess," responded the alwayspractical Mrs. Harlan. "Go back to sleep now, because we've a millionthings to do if we expect to get that afternoon train for AtlanticCity. How much money did Dick give you to do your shopping with?"
"I think he said it was five hundred dollars," said Lola carelessly."I didn't count it. He said I could get what else I needed as we wentalong."
"He's a prince," exclaimed Mrs. Harlan heartily. "We can stop in andleave an order with Madam Zelya, to be sent after us."
"We can not," replied Lola. "There's just one thing in the worldthat's worrying me this morning; that is that I was fool enough to payher all that money."