George Prentiss’s voice was big and hearty and boomed into the noisy clamor of the merry company. His wife turned astonished eyes at him and then quickly searched the face of the young man. Who was he? Had she seen him before? And was George in on this? Were he and Patricia trying to put something over on her, now at this last minute, when everything had been going so nicely?
The other guests seemed to sense something significant in the atmosphere, for they suddenly ceased talking and turned to look at John Worth, hushing their voices just in time to hear what he was answering to his host’s question.
“Oh, I was away at college, you know, then Tech two years, and after that I taught in Tech until I took my present position. I thank you for thinking of me.”
There was a quiet self-possession about the young man that prolonged the silence, as they studied him and tried to classify him. And in that instant of silence the servant approached and announced dinner.
Patricia swept a quick glance over the guests and took command.
“Thorny, you’re to take Mother out, you know,” she said in a clear voice, smiling over her shoulder at the scowling Thorny.
Thorny was standing just behind her, obviously expecting to take her into dinner.
“Where the devil did you raise him, Pat?” he growled under his breath, nodding contemptuously toward John Worth. “For Pete’s sake, get him out of here quick or there’ll be a murder. I always hated that guy. You didn’t invite him, did you? He certainly had his nerve to dare to come here—!”
“Come, John,” she said in a clear voice, slipping her hand within his arm. “You’re to take me out.”
The coral one was at John’s right as they sat down and engaged his attention for the first few minutes, despite his best efforts to withdraw. She was burning with curiosity, but John Worth knew how to answer questions without giving out much information, and at last she turned from him in despair.
“Now,” said Patricia, turning to John when they were well started on the first course. “What time did you say you have to leave?”
“One minute after midnight.”
“And it is half past eight now,” said Patricia briskly, lifting her eyes to the ancestral clock across the room. “We haven’t much time, have we, John?”
She spoke in a low conversational tone as if she might be talking about the weather or old school days.
“It doesn’t look as though we were going to have any,” gloomed John sadly. “What time do you hope that this jamboree will break up, if any?”
Her face sparkled into smiles, but she gave undivided attention to the soup course that had just been brought.
“No, it doesn’t,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “But we can get quite a little across. Tell me—all about it—please.”
She might have been making any commonplace remark, and his manner was equally as cool as he said, “You have some white flowers down by the hedge.”
She flashed him a look of deep comprehension.
“Oh, had you noticed them?”
“They called me in. In fact, I might not have had the courage if they had not been there.”
“They are my favorite flowers.” Again her voice and manner were most casual. “In fact, I believe I prefer them to any others.”
“Tell me about them, please.”
John Worth’s manner was perfect, as if he were quite accustomed to dining out.
“They were given to me by a very dear friend,” volunteered Patricia.
“A friend?” inquired Worth calmly, though his heart was filled with radiance.
“On the happiest day of my school life—” continued Patricia.
Cryptically they talked on. Occasionally the coral one broke forth and interrupted, and now and again Patricia as hostess remembered the man on her left and graciously dropped a few words his way. But magically the conversation pursued its fairy way beneath the frivolity of the table talk, and thus they drifted from course to course, scarcely noticing what others were doing, toying with the food upon their plates, but not distinguishing one course from another. Patricia was unaware of the radiance that sat on her face like a cloud of glory, unaware of her mother’s icy stare that swept down the table toward her until all in its path felt it and shivered into silence. Most fully unaware of Thorny, eating almost nothing and having his wine glass filled from time to time. She had forgotten Thorny completely and her own brief reprieve, which was drawing swiftly to a close. She was altogether absorbed in the enigmatic conversation that she and her dinner mate were carrying on under the guise of polite conversation. They were knitting up the years in terms of symbols, of which the little white lilies were the key.
Suddenly a silence descended upon the table. Just how it started or who was the instigator perhaps no one was quite sure. It was most skillfully wrought and psychologically perfect. All voices were hushed in an instant, and then, before she had spoken a word, all eyes were turned to Mrs. Prentiss.
“Friends,” she said in that well-modulated voice of hers that could always command attention, “perhaps you never suspected it, but we have invited you here tonight for a very special reason.”
Patricia looked up suddenly, startled back to reality by her mother’s voice, and that odd thrill that always went down her spine and ended in a choke, whenever her mother disapproved of anything she was doing, took possession of her.
She grew cold around her throat now, and her lips set firmly as her mother went on:
“But I am not going to tell you what it is,” she said playfully, with a swift meaningful glance at her daughter. “You may or may not have guessed our secret, but now our dear Patricia is going to tell you with her own lips!”
Those lips, which had never known lipstick, much to her mother’s disgust, were white now and set in a thin little line of purpose. White were her cheeks, too, and her eyes dark with feeling, but shining with a sudden glow as joy broke over her face. She had a keen realization that there was no need for her to be afraid any longer. God had answered her prayer and shown her a way out. Well, she would give them what they asked, then. It was not her fault that things had come about like this.
There was a quick little tilt of confidence to her chin and a set of triumph to her lips as she rose from her chair and looked around upon them with a smiling challenge in spite of her white face. In the soft candlelight of the room with the flicker of the waxen flames across her lovely face and her silver garments, she looked more than ever like a thing of moonlight, and John Worth looked up at her, his heart bursting with the beauty of her. Then she flung her challenge, sweetly, simply, almost carelessly, as if it were a matter of course.
“I’m just announcing my engagement—” she said calmly, looking them starrily and collectively in the eyes for an instant while she hesitated for breath to finish. She saw them sit up greedily for more, saw the relief and proud satisfaction beginning to dawn in her mother’s face, saw Thorny, leaning forward with a voluptuous look in his eyes and on his full red lips, saw his white matched teeth gleam almost with a snarl of conquest. Then she finished her sentence with a clear voice:
“—to John Worth!”
Chapter 22
John Worth had been sitting there in white anguish, like one who had suddenly been brought back from heaven to die a second death. He had thrust one hand into his pocket where a little cool, crushed blossom lay withering. He held it tightly in his fingers as if it would again help him through this trying ordeal, for he must not shame her now by letting others see his misery.
And as his shaking fingers gathered up the frail flower, another cool hard object touched him and stabbed him with a deeper pain.
Then suddenly Patricia spoke his name in that dear lilting voice, putting him on the throne of her heart before them all, and turned to him for confirmation of her words.
His soul sprang into his face. John Worth had no need for anyone to tell him what to do. His hand with the little wilted flower, and the other little round object sti
ll firmly clasped, came forth from his pocket. Reaching for her hand, he slipped upon her finger a glorious ruby set in delicate platinum tracery.
It was all as if it had been carefully planned and rehearsed. But the look on Thorny’s face and the white dawning horror and chagrin on the aghast, amazed countenance of Mrs. Prentiss were utterly lost on the assemblage. They were not looking at them, not yet. They were like a mob following the latest lead, and that lead was Mr. Prentiss, for he was on his feet now, and his face was full of unrestrained joy.
“Here’s to their health!” he cried, lifting a glass of water, and amid the clapping and uproar of the astonished company Mrs. Prentiss had time to bring her face somewhat into subjection and readjust her tactics.
She was utterly cornered and she knew it! She was caught in her own trap and must make the best of it, at least for the time being. Could it be that the whole thing had been arranged beforehand? She must carry it off with that idea at any rate. Of course later, when they had time to reason with Patricia, they could take her off on a trip to Alaska or the North Pole or somewhere, and the engagement could be broken. But that would have to be adjusted. Just now she simply must show people that she was in hearty accord with it all, of course. She didn’t want them to know that it was all a surprise to her.
Thorny, aghast, unable to believe his own senses, hastily tossed down his glass of wine and handed the glass to the waiter to be refilled. Then he turned with bitter tongue toward the lady who was to have been his mother-in-law. It was with the utmost tact, however, that she evaded him and engaged in earnest conversation with her neighbor on the other side.
Of all this Patricia was unaware for the moment, for she was back in her seat now, with starry eyes and flaming cheeks, looking at her ring.
“Oh, John!” she breathed softly up at him. “Where did you get it? How did you happen to have it here?” She was glad that there was too much noise going on around her for the moment for others to hear.
“I’ve carried it with me for the last few years,” he answered quietly. “It was Mother’s engagement ring. It came to Father from his great-grandmother, and farther back than that. It has been an heirloom in the family for years, the one thing my mother would not sell when my father was so sick. He would not let her part with it. She gave it to me the night before she died—for you.”
“For me?” wonderingly.
“Yes, hush, they’re listening. I’ll tell you later.”
Patricia sat up straight and remembered she was on exhibition. Then after a minute or two she leaned over and whispered, “How soon do we leave?”
“Leave?” asked John wonderingly.
“Yes! Aren’t you taking me with you, John?”
“Would you go?” he asked with a great light of wonder in his eyes. “Could you?”
“Why, of course,” said Patricia, with an answering light in her own eyes. “Didn’t you want me to go?”
“Oh, my dear!” said John, and the lamps in his eyes spoke as his words failed him.
Patricia sprang into instant action.
“Mother, why don’t we go into the other room?” she called cheerfully, and amid the general confusion of rising she escaped into the servants’ hall, motioning John to follow her.
She drew him along to the telephone.
“Get in there quick and call up Mr. Ripley, Dad’s minister,” she whispered. “Tell him to come right over, and you meet him at the door of the sun porch and bring him back here. Tell him to be here in a half hour at the latest. And doesn’t something have to be done about a license? I think Lawrence Seeley would fix that up for you. He’s in something over at the courthouse. You remember him, don’t you?”
“Oh yes. I guess we can get that part fixed up all right,” said John as joyously as if he were singing paeans over the past.
“Well, hurry. Somebody is coming! And when you get that telephoning done, hunt up Dad! Talk to him about five minutes and then bring him up to my room. Tell him I want him. You can tell him anything else you want him to know, of course, but I think he’s satisfied about you now. I know the look in Dad’s face.”
John hesitated.
“But—your mother—?” he began.
“Never mind Mother; she’ll be all right when it’s over. Don’t say a word to her yet. Nor to any of them but Dad. I know Mother, too. Get started quick! Someone is coming!”
Patricia dashed down the hall after one of the servants.
“Barker, find Marie and send her to my room as quick as you can,” she said breathlessly and flew up the back stairway.
Up in a large old carved chest in the attic there lay a wedding veil, of finest hand-wrought lace, yellow with age, and rich with ancestral love. It was straight to that chest that Patricia Prentiss flew. Down on her silver knees before it she went delving, until she found the box where it lay, wrapped in folds of satin paper.
She met Marie as she reached her own door.
“Get me my white satin dress, Marie! The one with the high neck and long sleeves, and some white satin shoes,” she ordered, still breathlessly.
“Oh, Miss Patty, you didn’t spill something on that lovely silver gown, did you?”
“No, Marie,” laughed the girl. “It just isn’t suitable for the next act. You see, Marie, I’m going to be married!”
Patricia had opened the box and now was unfolding the precious filmy veil with its frostwork of handmade lace on the border.
“Oh, Miss Patty, dear!”
“It’s quite sudden,” laughed Patty. “Nobody knows it yet. Can you pack my traveling bag and get my trunk ready for a steamer trip? I’m leaving at midnight, Marie.”
“Oh, my dear Miss Patty!” said Marie, pausing in here swift moving among the well-ordered garments in the closet and bureau. “And am I to go with you?”
“Not just yet, Marie, but perhaps later.”
“And will Mr. Thorny—” the girl paused apprehensively, as if she scarcely knew how to finish her sentence.
“Mr. Thorny isn’t in the picture, Marie,” said Patricia with satisfaction. “His name is John. You don’t know him yet, but you will sometime, and you’ll like him.”
“Oh, Miss Patty, I’m that glad! I never did like Mr. Thorny! He wasn’t good enough for you.”
While they talked they worked swiftly. Patricia in a flash changed into the white things that Marie brought to her, and then Marie arranged the wonderful veil, and without more fuss the bride stood ready.
John Worth had not only telephoned the minister and arranged with his old friend Lawrence Seeley for the license, but he had also telephoned the old family florist, Mr. Mathison, for a quick-order bride’s bouquet of lilies of the valley, and it was already on its way, the handsomest bride’s bouquet the old man knew how to make for his old friend Patty. But John Worth, at the last minute, was down behind the hedge in the moonlight groping with careful fingers for the little cool crisp stems of the valley-lilies that he had planted there so long ago. John wanted a few of his own blossoms for his dear girl.
And when he sent them up to her she fastened them, a little wreath like a coronet, around the edge of her veil to frame her face in place of orange blossoms.
Mr. Prentiss came tiptoeing to the door stealthily and whispered eagerly, “Great work, little Pat! You’ve chose a real man! I don’t believe there’s any doubt that you love him. And the best thing about him is that he knows and loves your Lord! You have all my blessing, little girl!”
It was a great deal for her shy father to say, and Patricia folded her arms around his neck, regardless of her lovely old veil, and kissed his cheek tenderly.
“No doubt at all, daddy dear! I’ve loved him ever since I knew him, only I didn’t think he would ever come back, and Mother was so set on Thorny.”
“Mother will be all right,” said her father, with a smile.
Then came John with the bride’s big bouquet all of lovely lilies of the valley.
Mr. Prentiss laid a fatherly hand upon J
ohn’s shoulder and said in a low voice, “I’m glad to trust my little girl to you, John! I know you’ll take care of her! I didn’t hope for anything as this in her life, and I’m thanking God for you!”
Then Patricia took her lovely bouquet and held it up near her face where it almost touched the coronet of lilies, and looking at John she said, “See how they match, John?”
The downstairs maid knocked at the door.
“Miss Patricia, your mother says are you sick or anything? She says you must come down right now! She says people are all asking where you are. They think it’s awful strange you’ve disappeared. She says you must come at once!”
And Patricia sang out in her brightest voice, “All right, Nellie! Tell her I’ll be right down!”
Then to her maid:
“Marie, go down and tell the orchestra to begin playing the wedding march as soon as they finish this number!”
And in another minute or two they heard the familiar strains of the wedding march begin.
Patricia swung her bouquet over her left arm and slipped her hand under her father’s arm.
“Go down the back stairs, quick, John, and come around to stand in front of that bank of palms at the foot of the wide staircase. You are sure you told the minister where to meet you?”
“He’s waiting for me at the foot of the back stairs. We’re going together,” said John. “Good-bye! See you later!” He grinned, waved his hand, and was gone. Mr. Prentiss and his daughter stepped out into the hall with measured tread and began their slow walk down the stairs together within the sudden view of a greatly astonished assembly below, who had just begun to sense what it was that the orchestra was playing. They looked up with amazement written on every face.
John and the minister had slipped in from the back hall unnoticed and were standing at one side in front of the screen of palms that hid the orchestra. Nobody even seemed to glance their way, nor to notice that a stranger was among them. If they had they might have thought the minister was the delinquent pilot.
Not until the bride and her father came into sight at the wide stair landing and the guests began to back away from their path and stare in bewilderment, casting about for a possible bridegroom, even thinking perhaps it would be Thorny after all, did they see the two standing there beside the palms looking up.