The Beloved Stranger - By Grace Livingston Hill Page 0,17
right at the next corner, and go straight till I tell you to turn.”
They were out in a quiet street and making good time when she spoke again.
“I’ve got to tell you the situation,” she said gravely, “or you won’t understand what it’s all about and why I want you to help. You see, this was my wedding tonight.”
“Your wedding?” He turned a startled face toward her.
“Yes, and I doubt whether very many have taken it in yet that I wasn’t the bride.”
“But—why—how—when—?”
“Yes, of course,” explained Sherrill. “It all happened less than an hour ago. I was all dressed to go to the church, and I happened to find out about her. I—saw them together—saying good-bye—”
She caught her breath, trying to steady her voice and keep the tears back, and he said gently, “Don’t tell me if that makes it harder. I’ll get the idea all right. You want me to hang around and be an old friend, is that the idea?”
“That’s it,” said Sherrill. “I thought if I just had somebody—somebody they all didn’t know—somebody they could think had been an old friend back in my home in the West before I came here, it wouldn’t be so hard.”
“I understand perfectly,” he said. “I am your very special oldest friend, and I’ll do my noblest to help you carry off the situation.” His voice was gravely tender and respectful, and somehow it gave her great relief to know he would stand by her for the evening.
“You are wonderful,” she said in a shaky little voice. “But, I never thought, is there—have you a wife or, or—somebody who would mind you doing that for a stranger?”
He laughed blithely, as if he were glad about it.
“No, I haven’t a wife. I haven’t even somebody. Nothing to worry about in that direction. Though I wouldn’t think much of them even if I had if they would mind lending me for such an occasion.”
“Well, I guess I’m not worth much that I’m letting you do it, but things are almost getting me. I was pretty tired and excited when it happened, and then, you know, it was less than an hour ago, and kind of sudden.”
“Less than an hour ago!” said the young man, appalled. “Why, how did you work it to get the other girl there all dressed up?”
“I waited till he had started to the church. I guess I was dazed at first and didn’t know what to do. I just dragged her into my room and made her put on the wedding things and sent her off in the car. You see, the man who was to give me away was a distant cousin who didn’t know me, had been late in arriving, and the maid of honor was a friend of my aunt’s who had never seen me either.”
“But didn’t the bridegroom know?”
“Not until he saw her coming up the aisle, or—I’m not sure when he knew, but—” There came that piteous catch in her voice again. “I don’t know just when he knew, but he accepted it all right. He—used her name in the service, not mine. I haven’t thought much yet about what I did. But I guess it was a rather dreadful thing to do. Still—I don’t know what else I could have done. The wedding was all there, and I couldn’t marry him, could I? Perhaps you think I am a very terrible girl. Perhaps you won’t want to pose as my friend now you know.”
He could hear that the tears were very near to the surface now, and he hastened to say earnestly, “I think you are a very brave and wonderful girl.”
“Here’s where we turn,” she said breathlessly, “and I think that’s their car down two blocks away. They have to go in the front drive, but we’ll go on around here to the service entrance. Then we can get in before they see us.”
“And by the way, oughtn’t I know your name?” he said quietly. “Mine is Graham Copeland, and you can call me ‘Gray’ for short. It will sound more schoolmatish, won’t it? All my friends call me Gray.”
“Thank you,” said Sherrill gravely. “And I’m Sherrill Cameron. That was my aunt Pat you took the note down to. She is Miss Catherwood. She didn’t know either. I had to write and tell her.”
“I couldn’t help seeing some of the words,” he admitted. “Will she stand by you?”
“I—don’t know—!” Sherrill hesitated. “I thought I saw a twinkle in her eye, but it