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Authors: Grace Livingston Hill

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BOOK: Beauty for Ashes
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“Well, if he’s a stranger hereabouts and it was daylight, he would have chosen the way to the right because it is beautiful, but if he’s anxious to lure her back home, he would have gone to the left and civilization.”

“We’ll take a chance on the way to the left then. He didn’t look much to me like a man who was noticing the beauties of nature, if you ask me.”

So they turned to the left and drove swiftly through the night with a definite intention of finding out whether that cream-colored car had passed a certain point going south early that afternoon.

It was an hour later that they telephoned back to Gloria. They had heard of the car going north a little before noon, but it had not come back that way, and finding there had been no phone call at Gloria’s end of the wire, they turned away heavy burdened.

“We’d better go back the other way and take the right-hand turn,” said Robert Carroll, distress sounding in his voice. “I don’t know just how we are going to proceed with this search or what we can do when we find anybody, but I feel we should go on.”

On they went into the night, penetrating roads that they knew well, even visiting several places tucked away in seclusion among the hills where a man would be likely to take a girl to dinner, questionable places from their own point of view, but they searched carefully for a cream-colored car and in several instances went inside and studied the patrons from a shadowed vantage point. If Matilda Coulter could only have got a spotlight on these two, she certainly would have made the countryside ring with tales of that night. But these two were wise and heavenled and kept well out of notice. And so went on their fruitless search. No cream-colored car could be found, and no trace of it.

“That car would have gone far in a short time!” mused Murray at last when they came away from the farthest outpost in the direction they had taken.

“Yes,” said Robert despondently. “There’s nothing in this direction now for more than fifty miles, I doubt whether it’s worth our while to go on this way. You know, they may have taken the round-about way home up over the mountain and so approached Afton from above. In that case, there would be good excuse for their being so late, for there are many turnings where a stranger might lose his way.”

“Well, shall we take the cut across near Shillingsworth? That would bring us around near the house, and there’s no public phone around here. She may be back by this time. It’s an hour and a half since we phoned.”

In silence the two took the long, lonely ride over high hills and across the top of a mountain, coming around at last through little sleeping Afton, to the one house in the town where lights burned steadily over the whole lower part of the house.

Gloria met them at the door. She had been watching at the window of her dark room, listening for a car, and was down before they reached the house. Her face was very white, and her eyes large and dark and frightened. They did not need to ask if the wanderer had returned yet. Her face told the story.

“You are to come in and have some coffee,” she said huskily, and they knew that there were tears in her voice.

“I have been thinking,” she said as she handed them the cups of fragrant coffee. “I suppose I am very foolish to worry so. At home we would think nothing of it if Vanna stayed out much later than this. In our set, a group will go from one nightclub to another, eating, drinking and dancing, and come home at dawn, perhaps, or even later.”

She studied the faces of the two young men before her. In her vigil, she had known she must tell them this. They had a right to know what she and Vanna had been accustomed to. She expected them to be shocked, to turn away as if they had had enough. Deep searching of her soul had told her what a difference lay between her life and the life these young men had led.

But surprisingly they looked as if they had understood this.

“Yes—of course,” said Murray, his eyes down on his cup.

“I had thought of that,” said Robert almost sorrowfully. “You should not be—unduly—frightened!”

He was trying to cheer her, and she saw he was deeply moved himself.

“I would not be worried,” she said, trying to brighten for their sakes, “only Vanna knows how such late hours would be regarded here, and I’m quite sure she would want to let me know if she had been unavoidably detained. That’s why I thought of an accident—with such a reckless driver!”

“There are no precipices or dangerous pieces of road hereabouts,” said Robert. “I am sure we would have heard if there had been a big wreck anywhere near us. I did quite a little telephoning and made inquiries at a place where such things are known. None has been reported in this locality.”

“I really feel that man is at the bottom of this,” said Gloria, letting the worry come into her voice again. “I know he is determined to have his way, and I know he is a heavy drinker at times.”

Robert Carroll’s face hardened, and his lips set in thin determined lines.

“But it is of no use for you two to stay out any longer now,” went on Gloria. “I’m quite sure of that. You can’t do anything till morning, and by that time we surely will get some word. You’d better get some rest. Besides, you’ve made a thorough search of all the roads near here. What more could you do till daylight and people were up to be questioned?”

“We couldn’t,” said Murray, “except hang around and go out to meet them, and I imagine if they are coming home and have just lost their way or had a blowout, they wouldn’t really welcome us.”

“No,” said Gloria, “I don’t suppose Mr. Zane would, and that wouldn’t make it any easier for Vanna. So now won’t you both go home and go to bed? I can’t tell you how grateful I am for what you have done, and I’m just going to trust that everything will be all right and they’ll come back before long now. I’m sure Vanna will insist—unless of course there has been an accident!”

“Wait, Bob, I’ve had a thought,” said Murray. “Isn’t there a train from anywhere coming through Ripley after midnight?”

Robert shook his head.

“Only a way train, a freight. It comes from up the state. They would hardly have connected with that, I think. But we’ll start out again as soon as dawn comes.”

“Then why not stay here with me?” said Murray. Robert considered a moment then shook his head.

“No,” he said, “there’s another phone call I’d like to make before I start out, and I’d better use my own wire. It’s a private one, and these up here are all party lines. We don’t want to broadcast this thing, I take it.”

“Oh, no!” said Gloria sharply and thought of her cousin Joan and her aunt Miranda.

“All right, let’s go! We ought to get two hours of sleep before dawn.” He looked at his watch.

“Well, then you can take our car of course,” said Gloria, “and save his coming back.”

So it was arranged. The young men departed again, and Gloria was left to her terrible vigil at her dark window.

Chapter 13

W
hen Vanna got into the luxurious car and was sped away into the glorious sunshiny day, her heart sank. She distinctly did not want to go. She felt that she might be losing something interesting by being away even for an hour, and the company of this man who was so insistent upon taking her away to visit with himself had ceased to be interesting to her. The question of a possible closer relationship between herself and him, which she had been considering when she came up, had drifted completely out of her mind, and now that it was brought to view again, she wondered why she had ever been uncertain about it.

Moreover, a vague premonition hovered over her and would not let her forget her sister’s warning. Well, of course, that was silly, but what if something should happen, some accident, and she would be late for the meeting after all their preparation? How disappointed they would all be! How disappointed she would be herself!

She knew that tonight the meeting was of special importance to Robert Carroll. He had planned it long for this special region, he had worked and prayed for it, he had made several trips to removed districts to get some prodigal sons who never heard a message to promise to come, and he had told her about some of them. She would feel personally disloyal to him and his plans if she failed him tonight, especially in that solo that he sang with so much feeling that was intended to come at the close of Murray MacRae’s address. She loved to play that accompaniment for him because, while she was doing it, she had a strange ecstatic feeling that she was working with him, helping him to do a great thing that in some mysterious way affected destinies.

“You’re not listening!” said Emory Zane looking down at her with a haughty frown. “You act to me as if you had left your real self behind.”

She came back to the present with a start. Of course, it was foolish to think of not getting back in time. She would insist on that, and of course now that she had come, she must be polite and talk, so she roused herself and threw him a careless little smile.

“Oh, yes, I’m listening,” she said, “I was just thinking about some of the things I have left undone in running away like this right in the middle of the day.”

“What on earth could you possibly have to do up here that would matter in the least?” He sneered amusedly. “I should think you would be entirely fed up with this place. That’s why I came up here—to set you free—but I don’t seem to get much thanks for it.”

“Oh,” laughed Vanna decorously, “that was very kind of you of course, but I’m really having a lovely time up here and don’t in the least need to be pitied. I’m quite in love with this part of the world.”

Suddenly as they swept along, she saw the cornfield in the distance where she had planted a whole row of corn, and her heart gave an unexpected little leap as if she had spotted something precious. And was that one of the men walking toward the fence? The color flew into her cheeks. Why, that was Robert Carroll! And he would see her go by! He would wonder! This noisy car! This world-weary face beside her. She would have to explain them when she got back. She had a desperate longing to stop a minute, to have just a word with Robert Carroll, to look into his eyes and let him read in hers that this trip was not her wish, to get an assurance from his eyes that he would understand. But the worst about that costly car in which she was traveling was that it was seen at a distance and it shot by before one could draw breath. Before the thought had really formed in her mind of asking Zane to stop, before even she was quite sure that it was really Robert standing there by the bars, she was upon him.

She gave a little gasp and waved her hand with a bit of a frantic motion, calling as loudly as she could, “I’ll be back in time!” and then saw him far in the distance behind her.

When the ghastly feeling that settled down upon her somewhat subsided, she found Zane looking at her in curious amusement.

“What possible interest could you have in a common laborer that you should make a demonstration like that?” he asked, sneering. “Is he one of the farmhands on your father’s place? I should say you were being rather condescending to him!”

Vanna drew a deep breath and tried to put down the awful feeling of indignation that seemed to be choking her, tried to summon a laugh.

“No,” she said, a little lilt coming in her voice in spite of herself, “he isn’t anybody’s farmhand. He’s a graduate of two colleges, and that’s his own land back there! He’s a gentleman!”

“Dressed like that?” asked Zane, lifting supercilious eyebrows. “In the words of the small street urchins, ‘Oh, yeah?’”

“One doesn’t do farmwork in a frock coat,” said Vanna sharply.

“Neither does a gentleman put on overalls,” said Zane contemptuously.

“Perhaps your definition of a gentleman and mine would differ,” said Vanna, now thoroughly angry. “Let’s change the subject. We haven’t but a short time to ride; let’s enjoy this lovely day and this lovely car.”

“I’m not so sure that we have but a short time to ride,” said the man with a sinister glitter in his dark eyes. “Has your desire to be back so soon anything to do with that country bumpkin back there? If it has, I certainly don’t intend to let him win out.”

“You are making me very angry!” said Vanna haughtily. “If you are going on to talk this way, I shall have to demand that you let me out and I’ll walk back.”

“And suppose I didn’t stop?” asked the smooth voice.

“Well, then I might have to jump out anyway!” said Vanna. “Only that would be rather messy for us both, wouldn’t it?” She was very angry now, but she did not want him to see it, and she was trying desperately to give an amusing turn to the conversation.

“Come,” she went on glancing at her wristwatch, “we’ve got an hour to ride, and then we must turn back. Two hours is positively all that I can spare you this afternoon. Please let’s make it as pleasant as possible.”

“Assuredly!” said the smooth voice, giving her another narrow, vexed glance. But immediately his manner changed and he began to talk pleasantly.

“See that wooded hillside over there? Those are pines. They are really lovely, aren’t they? But you should see the Black Forest as I have seen it,” and he was off into a reminiscence of some of his foreign adventures.

He could talk most fascinatingly when he chose. Just now he chose. It was his marvelous gift of conversation that had first interested Vanna in him. He knew how to describe an Italian sky or an adventure on a snow-clad mountain or a perilous voyage at sea or the depths of a treacherous jungle till one forgot all else in listening.

Vanna was charmed into forgetting her own present peculiar form of tortured uneasiness, and listening, she regained some degree of her first respect for the man and interest in his charm. There was a mysterious lure in his glance when he was like this, and Vanna felt more respect for her own first judgment of him, more of her initial confidence.

For an hour this went on, until he had her thoroughly in sympathy with his mood, until her eyes began to respond to his expression with a merry interest, and she was laughing and answering in a natural way.

Then suddenly, in just an hour, as if the alarm had been set in her mind and had gone off with a whirr, she roused to the fact that it was time to turn back.

BOOK: Beauty for Ashes
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