Sam looked apprehensively around.Both breathed softly and listened with straining ears.His exclamation had not been loud, but the silence was profound."I guess nobody heard," he finally whispered."You mustn't go, Susie." He caught her hand and held it."I love you, and I forbid it.""I _must_ go, dear," answered she."I've decided to take the midnight boat for Cincinnati."In the half darkness he gazed in stupefaction at her--this girl of only seventeen calmly resolving upon and planning an adventure so daring, so impossible.As he had been born and bred in that western country where the very children have more independence than the carefully tamed grown people of the East, he ought to have been prepared for almost anything.But his father had undermined his courage and independence; also his year in the East had given him somewhat different ideas of women.Susan's announcement seemed incredible.He was gathering himself for pouring out a fresh protest when it flashed through his mind--Why not? She would go to Cincinnati.He could follow in a few days or a week--and then--Well, at least they would be free and could have many happy days together.
"Why, how could you get to Cincinnati?" he said."You haven't any money.""I've a twenty-dollar gold piece Uncle gave me as a keepsake.
And I've got seventeen dollars in other money, and several dollars in change," explained she."I've got two hundred and forty-three dollars and fifty cents in the bank, but I can't get that--not now.They'll send it to me when I find a place and am settled and let them know.""You can't do it, Susie! You can't and you mustn't.""If you knew what they said to me! Oh, I _couldn't_ stay, Sam.
I've got some of my clothes--a little bundle behind the front door.As soon as I'm settled I'll let you know."A silence, then he, hesitatingly, "Don't you--do you--hadn't Ibetter go with you?"
She thrilled at this generosity, this new proof of love.But she said: "No, I wouldn't let you do that.They'd blame you.And Iwant them to know it's all my own doing."
"You're right, Susie," said the young man, relieved and emphatic."If I went with you, it'd only get both of us into deeper trouble." Again silence, with Sam feeling a kind of awe as he studied the resolute, mysterious profile of the girl, which he could now see clearly.At last he said: "And after you get there, Susie--what will you do?""Find a boarding house, and then look for a place.""What kind of a place?"
"In a store--or making dresses--or any kind of sewing.Or Icould do housework."
The sex impulse is prolific of generous impulses.He, sitting so close to her and breathing in through his skin the emanations of her young magnetism, was moved to the depths by the picture her words conjured.This beautiful girl, a mere child, born and bred in the lady class, wandering away penniless and alone, to be a prey to the world's buffetings which, severe enough in reality, seem savage beyond endurance to the children of wealth.
As he pictured it his heart impulsively expanded.It was at his lips to offer to marry her.But his real self--and one's real self is vastly different from one's impulses--his real self forbade the words passage.Not even the sex impulse, intoxicating him as it then was, could dethrone snobbish calculation.He was young; so while he did not speak, he felt ashamed of himself for not speaking.He felt that she must be expecting him to speak, that she had the right to expect it.He drew a little away from her, and kept silent.
"The time will soon pass," said she absently.
"The time? Then you intend to come back?"
"I mean the time until you're through college and we can be together."She spoke as one speaks of a dream as to which one has never a doubt but that it will come true.It was so preposterous, this idea that he would marry her, especially after she had been a servant or God knows what for several years--it was so absurd that he burst into a sweat of nervous terror.And he hastily drew further away.
She felt the change, for she was of those who are born sensitive.But she was far too young and inexperienced to have learned to interpret aright the subtle warning of the nerves.
"You are displeased with me?" she asked timidly.
"No--Oh, no, Susie," he stammered."I--I was thinking.Do put off going for a day or two.There's no need of hurrying."But she felt that by disobeying her aunt and coming down to see him she had forfeited the right to shelter under that roof."Ican't go back," said she."There's a reason." She would not tell him the reason; it would make him feel as if he were to blame.
"When I get a place in Cincinnati," she went on, "I'll write to you.""Not here," he objected."That wouldn't do at all.No, send me a line to the Gibson House in Cincinnati, giving me your address.""The Gibson House," she repeated."I'll not forget that name.
Gibson House."
"Send it as soon as you get a place.I may be in Cincinnati soon.But this is all nonsense.You're not going.You'd be afraid."She laughed softly."You don't know me.Now that I've got to go, I'm glad."And he realized that she was not talking to give herself courage, that her words were literally true.This made him admire her, and fear her, too.There must be something wild and unwomanly in her nature."I guess she inherits it from her mother--and perhaps her father, whoever he was." Probably she was simply doing a little early what she'd have been sure to do sooner or later, no matter what had happened.On the whole, it was just as well that she was going."I can take her on East in the fall.As soon as she has a little knowledge of the world she'll not expect me to marry her.She can get something to do.
I'll help her." And now he felt in conceit with himself again--felt that he was going to be a good, generous friend to her.
"Perhaps you'll be better off--once you get started," said he.
