The Unseen Bridegroom Part 48

Upstairs, is it? Do you go in first, Sarah; but don't tell her I'm coming. I want the pleasure of surprising her myself."

Sarah smiled, and unlocked Mollie's door. The girl was sitting with an anxious, listening, expectant face. She rose up and turned around at the opening of the door.

"Is it you, nurse? Oh, I have been so uneasy! What noise was--"

She never finished the sentence--it died out in an inarticulate cry of joy. For Hugh Ingelow, his disguise torn off, stood in the door-way, smiling and serene as the G.o.d of safety himself.

Mollie Dane was a creature of impulse--she never stopped to think. One faint; suppressed cry, one bound forward, and she was in the young man's arms.

"Hugh! Hugh! Hugh!" she cried, hysterically, clinging to him, "save me!

save me!"

It was the first time she had ever called him other than Mr. Ingelow.

The young man's arms closed around her as if they never would open again.

"My darling, I have come to save you!"

It had all pa.s.sed in five seconds, but that short interval was long enough for Mollie's womanly instincts to take the alarm. She disengaged herself, reddening violently. What would he think of her? and Mrs.

Sharpe there, too!

"They have driven me nearly out of my senses!" she said, with a sort of choking sob. "I don't know what I am doing half the time, and I was so glad to see a friend's familiar face, Mr. Ingelow."

The blue eyes--the eyes of a very child--lifted themselves wistfully, deprecatingly, shining in tears. Hugh Ingelow was touched to the core of his heart.

"I know it, my poor little girl! It is enough to drive any one out of his senses. But let us see if we can't outwit the crafty Oleander. Put your bonnet on and come."

Mollie paused suddenly, and looked first at him, then at Mrs. Susan Sharpe, then back again.

"Well, Miss Dane," said Mr. Ingelow, "you're not afraid to come with me?"

"Afraid?" the blue eyes turned upon him with an eloquent glance. "Oh, no! But she--Mrs. Sharpe--"

"Is coming, too, of course, to play propriety," laughed Hugh. "Mrs.

Sharpe," turning to that demure lady, "put on your fixings and let us fly!"

Mrs. Sharpe nodded, and turned to go into her own room.

"There's Miss Dane's things," she said, pointing to the pegs on which they hung. "I'll be back in two minutes."

Mr. Ingelow took them down, and tenderly wrapped the long mantle about the slender, girlish figure.

"Are you sure you will be warm enough, Mollie?--I beg your pardon--Miss Dane."

"Ah, call me Mollie!" the eloquent glance once more. "How good you are to me, Mr. Ingelow!"

Hugh Ingelow winced as if she had stabbed him.

"I'm a wretch--a brute--a heartless monster! That's what I am, Mollie, and you'll think so, too, some day--that's the worst of it. Don't wear that puzzled, frightened face, my darling! Heaven knows I would die for you!"

She took his hand and kissed it. Before either had time to speak, of course Mrs. Sharpe must happen in and spoil all.

But Hugh Ingelow, strange to say, looked rather relieved. His face had flushed hotly under that innocent kiss, and then grown deathly pale. He was very white when Mrs. Sharpe came in, and Mrs. Sharpe's sharp eyes saw it. The green gla.s.ses were gone.

"You look fit to die," observed Mrs. Susan Sharpe, eying him. "What's the matter?"

Mollie looked at him, then turned away. Had she been forward? Was he mortified?

She colored painfully, then slowly petrified to marble. But the young artist only laughed.

"Pining for you, Mrs. Sharpe. I only exist in the light of your eyes. By the way, where's the green spectacles?"

"In my pocket. Come!"

Mollie had knotted her bonnet strings with nervous, trembling fingers.

She was thrilling through with mortification. She had been bold, and she had disgusted his fastidious taste, and she had not meant it. She was so grateful, and she loved him so dearly, but she never would offend in that way again.

Mr. Ingelow offered her his arm, but she drew back.

"I will follow you," she said, in a low voice, shrinking painfully into herself.

He said no more, but led the way. Mrs. Sharpe went after, Miss Dane last. No sound broke the stillness of the house. They might have been in their beds for all the noise they made.

"I hope it's all right," Mrs. Sharpe said, with a very uneasy face; "but I feel scared."

"You needn't, then," answered Mr. Ingelow; "they're safe enough. They'll be all alive in two or three hours from now, and will never know what ailed them. Save your sympathy, Susan, for time of need."

They went down-stairs, out-of-doors, into the cool, bright moonlight.

Mollie Dane drew a long, long breath of unspeakable thankfulness as she breathed the fresh, free air once more.

"Thank Heaven," she thought, "and--Hugh Ingelow!"

They reached the garden gate; it stood wide; they pa.s.sed out, and the artist closed it securely after him.

"'Safe bind, safe find!' Now, Miss Dane, take my arm, and let us see you step out. I have a trap waiting down the road. Neat thing this in the way of moonlight, isn't it?"

Mollie essayed to laugh. He had not waited for her to decline his proffered arm this time--he had taken her hand and drawn it securely through.

"How does freedom feel, Mollie, after a week or two of close imprisonment?"

"Very delightful. You must suffer the imprisonment first, Mr. Ingelow, before you can realize it."

"I would prefer trying to realize it without. Ah, my worthy Doctor Oleander, I think I have outwitted you nicely!"

"I have been so bewildered, and so flurried, and so stunned from the first," said Mollie, "that I can not properly comprehend anything, but I should like to hear how you have brought all this about."

"Why," said Mr. Ingelow, "Mrs. Sharpe told me."

"Yes; but you sent Mrs. Sharpe here in the first place; she told me that. How did you know I was here?"