The Beloved Stranger - By Grace Livingston Hill Page 0,15

upon his lips. Shamefully, perhaps, like one driven to it, but he had taken them. Her lover was marrying another girl!

He had not even tried to do anything about it!

With a little gasp like a deep-driven sob, she dropped upon her knees and hid her face in her hands, while the gallery in which she knelt reeled away into space, and she suddenly seemed to be hurled as from a parapet by the hands of her former bridegroom, down, down into infinite space with darkness growing all about her. Ah! She had been foolish! Why had she not known that this would happen to her? Love like hers could not be broken, torn from its roots ruthlessly, without awful consequences. How had she thought she could go through this and live through it? Was this the end? Was she about to die, shamelessly, and all the world know that she had a broken heart?

Ahh!

A breath of fresh air came sharply into her face from an opening door just as she was about to touch an awful depth, a strong arm lifted her upon her feet, and a glass of cool water was pressed to her lips.

“I thought this might be refreshing,” a friendly casual voice said, not at all as if anything unusual were happening.

She drank the water gratefully, and afterward she wondered if it were only her imagination that she seemed to remember clinging to a hand. But of course that could not have been.

He looked down at her, smiling, as if he might have been a brother.

“Now, do you feel you have to stay up here till this performance is ended and all the people escorted out below?” he asked pleasantly, “or would you like to slip down now and get your car out of traffic before things get thick? You look awfully tired to me, but if you feel you should stay, I’ll bring up a chair.”

“Oh,” said Sherrill bewilderedly, “is it—are they almost—?”

She leaned forward to look.

“Just about over I fancy,” said the man, who was steadying her so efficiently.

And as if to verify his words, the voice of the clergyman came clearly: “I pronounce you husband and wife. Whom therefore God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.”

She shuddered and shrank back. The man could feel her tremble as he supported her.

“This would be a good time if you are going to slip away,” he whispered. “There is just the brief prayer, and then the procession out is rather rapid. I fancy traffic will thicken up quickly after they are out. Or would you rather wait until they are all gone?”

“Oh no!” said Sherrill anxiously. “I must get back to the house if possible before they get there!”

“Then we should go at once!”

She cast one more glance down at the two who stood with clasped hands and bowed heads, and rapidly reviewed what was to come.

After this prayer there was the kiss!

She shivered! No, she did not want to see Arla lift her radiant head for that kiss. She had watched him kiss her once that night; she could not stand it again.

“Yes! Let us go quickly!” she whispered hurriedly with one last lingering glance, and then she stumbled toward the stairs.

Out in the cool darkness with a little breeze blowing in her face and the bright kind stars looking down, Sherrill came to herself fully again, her mind racing on to what was before her.

She was glad for the strong arm that still helped her across the street, but she felt the strength coming into her own feet again.

“I can’t ever be grateful enough to you,” she said as they reached the car, and she suddenly realized that she had treated him as if he were a mere letter carrier or a drink of water. “You have done a lot for me tonight. If I had more time, I would try to make you understand how grateful I am.”

“You needn’t do that,” he said gently. “You just needed a friend for a few minutes, and I’m glad I happened by. I wonder if there isn’t something more I could do? I’m going to drive you home, of course, if you’ll let me, for you really shouldn’t try yourself, believe me. Or is there some friend you would prefer whom I could summon?”

“Oh no,” she said, looking frightened. “I don’t want anyone I know. I want to get back before they miss me—and really, I think I could drive. Still if you don’t mind,