The Beloved Stranger - By Grace Livingston Hill Page 0,8
what pleasure she had taken in it when she bought it. If she had known—ah, if she had known! But there was no time for sentiment.
The other girl was fitting on the silver stockings and shoes, her hands moving slowly, uncertainly.
“Here, let me fasten those garters!” said Sherrill almost compassionately. “You really must work faster than this! Stand up. Can you manage to walk in those shoes? They’re a bit long, aren’t they? My foot is long and slim. Stand up quick and take off that dark slip. Here, here’s the white slip,” and she slid it over the golden head of the other girl. Queer, their hair was the same color!
Sherrill’s mind was so keyed up that she thought of little painful things that at another time would not have attracted her attention.
“But I can’t do this!” said Arla Prentiss, suddenly backing away from the lovely folds of ivory satin that Sherrill was holding for her to slip into. “I couldn’t ever get away with it! Cart would kill me if I tried to do a thing like this!”
“Well, you were talking about killing yourself a few minutes ago,” said Sherrill sharply, wondering at herself as she said it. “It would be only a choice of deaths in that case, wouldn’t it? For mercy’s sake, stand still so I won’t muss your hair! This dress has got to go on you, and mighty quick, too!”
“But I couldn’t get away with a thing like this!” babbled Arla as she emerged from the sweeping folds of satin and found herself clothed in a wedding garment, drifting away in an awesome train such as her wildest dreams had never pictured.
“Oh yes, you could,” said Sherrill, snapping the fastenings firmly into place and smoothing down the skirt hurriedly. “All you’ve got to do is to walk up the aisle and say yes to things.”
“Oh, I couldn’t!” said Arla in sudden terror. “Why, they would know the minute I reached the church that it wasn’t you! They would never let it get even as far as walking up the aisle. They would mob me! They would drive me out—!” She paused with a great sob and sank down to the chair again.
“Get up!” said Sherrill, standing over her fiercely. “You’ll ruin that dress! Listen! There is someone coming to the door! Hush! Yes? Are you calling for me?” Sherrill spoke in a pleasant casual tone. “Is the car ready for me? You say it’s been ready ten minutes? Oh, well”—she laughed a high little unnatural trill—“that’s all right! They always expect a bride to be late. Well, tell the man I’ll be down in a minute or two now!”
The maid retreated down the stairs, and Sherrill flew over to the bed and took up the wedding veil carefully.
“Now, stand there in front of the mirror and watch,” she commanded as she held the lace cap high and brought it down accurately around the golden head. “Stand still, please. I’ve got to do this in just a second. And now listen to me.”
“But I can’t! I can’t really!” protested the substitute bride wildly. “I couldn’t let you do this for me!”
“You’ve got to!” said Sherrill commandingly. “I didn’t get up any of this mess, and it’s up to you to put this wedding through. Now listen! The man who is to take me —you in—is a stranger to me. His name is Nathan Vane. He’s a second cousin of my mother’s family and he’s never seen me. He hadn’t arrived yet when I came up to dress. Neither had the maid of honor, and she’s a stranger to me, too. Her name is Rena Scott. They’ll both be waiting at the door for you and will be the only ones who will have a chance to talk to you. All you’ll have to do will be to smile and take his arm and go up the aisle. This is the step we’re taking.” Sherrill stood away and went slowly forward. “You’ll see how the others do it. You’re clever, I can see. And when you get up there, all you’ve got to do is answer the questions and say things over after the minister, only using your own name instead of mine. Ten to one nobody will notice. You can speak in a low voice. The maid of honor will take your bouquet, and you’ll need to put out your left hand for the ring. Here! You must have the diamond, too!” and Sherrill slipped