The Port of Adventure Part 9

"But--but--you're not leaving yourself enough," he objected.

"Oh, yes. I can pay for my ticket as far as my first stopping-place.

Already I've written the bank to have money to meet me there, and it will be in time, for I shall stay in that town several days. You must take it--really."

He could not refuse, although it meant that he would not have her address, or an excuse for giving his. Slowly he drew the miniature frame out from an inside pocket of his coat. "I kept it there so as to be sure it was safe," he explained, lest the lady should think he had taken a liberty in wearing her property close to his heart.

Then, with many more thanks from Angela, and protestations on his part, they said good-bye. Although the newspapers had told her that Mr. Hilliard lived near Bakersfield, California, she had no a.s.sociation with that part of the State, and it seemed improbable to Angela that she should ever meet the handsome forest creature again. As she had no home she could not, even if it seemed best, invite him to call upon her at some future time; but she felt a stirring of regret that her travelling adventure was over--quite over--now.

After that she had not much time to think, because there were things to do before she took the train. And then she was in the express, getting settled in a stateroom, which would be hers all the way to Los Angeles.

Kate, who was to have a berth in the same car, arranged her mistress's things, and beamed with excitement and joy. They were really going West now--she and Timmy the cat: and going West meant getting nearer and nearer to Oregon. Meanwhile the girl was happy, for she adored Angela.

When Kate had finished her work everything was delightfully compact in the pretty green room, which was almost as big as Mrs. May's cabin on the s.h.i.+p. A white silk dressing-gown hung from a hook. The gold-backed brushes and crystal bottles from her fitted bag were arranged conveniently. There were lilies of the valley in a vase.

"Where did those flowers come from?" Angela asked.

"I don't know ma'am. I found them here," said Kate. "Perhaps the railway people supply them to the state-rooms."

Perhaps they did. But Angela suspected something different. She was touched and pleased. _He_ must have taken some trouble in getting the lilies placed in the right room. And it was like him not to have come forward himself to bid her good-bye. But--suddenly the question sprang into her head--how had he found out that she was travelling in this train?

All the afternoon she watched the Louisiana plantations, lakes, and bayous fly by in suns.h.i.+ne and shadow; or she read a novel of the South as it had been in old days. It was an interesting story and held her attention so closely that she was late in going to dinner. When at last she went there was only one chair left, at a table for two. Mr. Nickson Hilliard sat in the other.

VIII

THE GOLD BAG COMEDY

If ever there was a blush of guilt, it was Nick's.

Angela lifted her eyebrows, though she smiled. It would have been ungracious not to smile, and Angela hated to be ungracious. All the youth in her was glad to see him again; but all that was conventional, all that responded to her early training, disapproved of his presence.

"This is very unexpected!" she exclaimed, wondering if he would say it was a surprise to him, almost hoping that he might say so, because she could then seem to accept his word; which would save bother.

Nick hung his head. He jumped up when Mrs. May was shown to the table, and did not sit down again until she was seated. Now he disappointed Angela by making no attempt to defend himself. "Will you please forgive me?" he begged.

This forced Angela to be stern, and she decided to spare him no pang.

"Forgive you for what?" she asked.

"For coming," he answered to the first turn of the rack.

She was coldly puzzled. "But--do you mean your being in this train? Surely that can have nothing to do with me."

Nick was silent for a moment. The dining-car was full, and the waiters all busy. No one had come to take Mrs. May's order. Gathering his mental forces he resolved upon honesty as the best and only policy. "'Twould be easy enough to say it had nothing to do with you; that I'd have been travelling by this train to-day, anyhow," he began bravely. "The fact is, I came on board meanin' to try and make you think so, without exactly tellin' lies. But you've asked me a straight question, and I've just got to answer it straight, even if you refuse to speak to me ever again. I'm here because you're here, Mrs. May. But I promise I won't trouble you. And maybe you won't believe me, after my tellin' you this, but it's true; I didn't intend ever to let you see me to-night, and maybe not the whole journey. I only wanted to be on the same train and then, supposin' you should happen to need help any way, I'd be ready."

"But--that's rather too much self-sacrifice," said Angela, looking him full in the face with her dark-lashed, slate-gray eyes. "I'm not alone. I have my maid. I shan't need help."

"I guess you know I'm not making a self-sacrifice," Nick said honestly.

"I'd be gladder than glad to do anything for the first angel I ever met on earth. But please don't be worrying, Mrs. May. This ain't any hold-up. I won't come near you, unless you happen to need a man to look after you.

I'll fade away this minute, if----"

"Certainly not!" cried Angela. "It was your table before it was mine.

But--I don't understand yet. I think it would have been better if you'd finished your visit to New Orleans."

"I was sure there for the same reason I'm here," Nick blurted out. "I guess I have to tell you the whole thing now."

"You mean--you came to New Orleans because I----"

"Yes, that's right," he finished for her, when she paused, at a loss for words. "Something made me do it. Something stronger than I am. You were a kind of dissolving view, and I couldn't let it get out of my sight for good. When I heard you'd gone to New Orleans by boat----"

"How did you find out?" Angela's sweet voice had a sharp edge.

"In the travel bureau of the Valmont Hotel."

"Ah! Was that quite--considerate?"

"I know how it sounds to you. But it wasn't so bad as you think. I inquired as if from a friend of yours, a man I know out home----"

"How--how _horrid_ of you! I'd rather you didn't explain any more."

Angela's cheeks were bright pink, and she was more beautiful than Nick had ever seen her before, except the night of the burglar, when she had been drowned in the gold waves of her hair, the angel of his dreams. "But you may go on about the rest," she added hastily, when he was struck into silence, without being able to bring in the name of his one excuse, Mr.

Henry Morehouse. "I'd better know the _worst_. When you heard where I'd gone----"

"Well, I was too late for your s.h.i.+p, because I had to hang on and see Dutchy's case through, so I took the first train I could get when that business was wound up. And in New Orleans I found you. I didn't know for certain where you were going next, but----"

"But what?"

"I was pretty sure you were bound for California. And anyhow, wherever it was, I made up my mind to go. Not to bother you--no more than if I was your hired man. Just to see you through, from a distance, to know you were all right, and--and not to lose sight of you. I--of course you can't understand. I reckon no woman could. I don't wonder you're mad. I was dead sure you would be. Yet I had to stand for it."

"It's the most extraordinary thing I ever heard," said Angela, working herself up to be as angry as she ought to be. "That you should have left New York, after being there only a few days, and--oh, it doesn't bear thinking of! And I'd rather not believe it."

Again Nick wished to wave the name of Morehouse like a white flag of truce, but the San Franciscan lawyer, lying far away in a New York hospital, seemed too weak to flutter in the breeze of Mrs. May's displeasure.

"I'd rather have jogged along without tellin' you this," he said. "But as things worked out, it seemed as if I had to speak."

Angela was silent, busily thinking for a moment.

"Would you leave the train at the next stop, if I asked you?" she inquired.

"No. I'd be real sorry, but I wouldn't do that, even if you asked." And here was his chance to use Mr. Morehouse--a chance which might never come again. "I was going to tell you, I _do_ know a man who's acquainted with you, Mrs. May. We came East together. His name's Morehouse, and when he was taken sick, I went to see him, and--and had a little talk--all the nurses would let me have. I wanted him to write a note I could give you in New Orleans, but he wasn't strong enough. He did say I could mention his name when I told him I meant to go back West and look after you; but somehow it never seemed the right time in New Orleans. And now, when I began to explain how I inquired about you at the Valmont, as if it was from Morehouse, you didn't----"

"I felt there could be no explanation I'd care to hear," Angela finished for him. "I beg your pardon! Still I don't see why you should take Mr.

Morehouse's responsibilities on your shoulders--for my sake."

"No, you'll never see that," Nick sighed. "Only, if you could just see your way to forgiving me, I should be mighty thankful. I promise to switch off till you send for me. I'm in the next car to yours, if you should need to--if there's anything I could do, between here and Los Angeles----"

"How do you know my journey ends there? Did Mr. Morehouse tell you that, too?"