A Romance in Transit

FLAGGED DOWN

Brockway read the President's telegram twice, folded it very small, and tucked it into his waistcoat pocket.

"That's just about what I expected he'd do, and it's a straight bluff," he muttered. "All the same, she's not going back. And I've got to block it without getting Burton into trouble."

There was no time for anything but the simplest expedient. He jumped off again and ran back to the telegraph office.

"Say, Jim, that message to Miss Vennor is bulled. Ask Denver to repeat it to Beaver Brook, will you?" he said, interrupting the operator as he was repeating the train order.

The man of dots and dashes finished the order. "Can't do it, Fred; get me into hot water up to my neck. Think of something else."

"Will you help me if I do?"

"Sure; any way that won't cost me my job."

The conductor and engineer had signed the order, but Brockway begged for a respite. "Just a minute, Halsey, while I write a message," he said, snatching a pad of blanks and writing hastily, while the conductor waited.

"To Francis Vennor,

"Private Car 050, Denver.

"Can't you reconsider and leave Denver to-morrow morning, as previously arranged? Am quite sure Miss Vennor prefers to go on. Answer at Beaver Brook.

"Frederick Brockway."

He tossed the pad to the operator.

"There you are, Jim; don't break your neck to make a 'rush' of it; and when you hear the answer coming do what you can to make it limp a little – anything to change the sense a bit."

"I'll do it," quoth the operator; and then the conductor gave the signal, and Brockway boarded the train and rejoined Gertrude.

"Did you think I had deserted you?" he asked.

"Oh, no; and Mr. Burton's been in to keep me company. He came to ask if I didn't want to go back to Denver."

"Did he?" said Brockway, wondering if Burton had also had a message. "And you told him no?"

"Of course I did. Haven't we made a compact?"

"Yes, but – "

"But what?"

"You said you were going to be irresponsible, you know, and I didn't know just where it might crop out."

"Not in that direction, you may be sure. You said we were to do as we pleased, and I don't please to go back to Denver. But Mr. Burton seemed to be quite anxious about it, for some reason. I wonder why?"

"So do I," rejoined Brockway, innocently.

Gertrude stole a glance at him, and he tried to look inscrutable, and failed. Then they both laughed.

"You are keeping something back; tell me all about it," Gertrude commanded.

"I am afraid you will be very angry if I do."

"I shall be quite furious if you don't. My! how close that rock was!"

The train was storming up the canyon, dodging back and forth from wall to wall, roaring over diminutive bridges, and vying with the foaming torrent at the track-side in its twistings and turnings. The noise was deafening, but it was bearable, since it served to isolate them.

"Does the compact mean that we are to have no secrets from each other?" he asked, not daring to anticipate the answer; but Gertrude parried the direct question.

"What do two people who are trying to be very young and foolish and irresponsible know about secrets?" she demanded. "You are beating about the bush, and I won't have it. Tell me!"

For reply, he took the telegram from his pocket, opened it, smoothed it carefully on his knee, and handed it to her. She read it at a glance, and a faint flush came and went in her cheek, but whether of vexation or not he could not determine.

"You are very daring," she said, passing the square of paper back to him, and her voice was so low that he barely caught the words.

"You told me I wasn't to do anything that I meant to do: I certainly did not premeditate intercepting your telegrams – or answering them," he added.

"Then you have answered it? How?"

He turned the paper over and wrote his reply on the back, word for word.

"You dared to say that to my father!" she exclaimed. "How could you?"

"Under some circumstances, I think I could dare anything. But you are angry, as I said you'd be."

"Of course I am – very. I demand to be taken back to Denver this minute."

"Do you mean that?"

"Didn't I say it?"

Brockway tried in vain to read a contradiction in her face, but the steady eyes were veiled, and it is the eyes that speak when the lips are silent.

"I'm sorry," he began; "it meant a great deal to me, but I know it was inexcusable. I'll go and tell Burton, and you can go back from the Forks, where the trains meet."

Now Gertrude had builded upon the supposition that she was safe beyond the reach of recall, and she made haste to retract.

"Yes, do!" she said, tragically; "make me go down on my knees and beg you not to – I'll do it, if you insist. How was I to know that you were only trying to humiliate me?"

The swift little recantation gave Brockway a glimpse into her personality which was exceedingly precious while it lasted. A man may fall in love with a sweet face on slight provocation and without preliminaries, but he knows little of the height and depth of passion until association has taught him. But love of the instantaneous variety has this to commend it, that its demands are modest and based upon things visible. Wherefore, certain small excellences of character in the subject, brought to light by a better acquaintance, come in the nature of so many ecstatic little surprises.

That is the man's point of view. The woman takes the excellences for granted, and if they are lacking, one of two things may happen: a great smashing of ideals, or an attack of heavenly blindness. Gertrude was of the tribe of those who go blind; and deep down in her heart she rejoiced in Brockway's audacity. Hence it was only for form's sake that she said, "How was I to know that you were only trying to humiliate me?"

"I humiliate you!" he repeated, quite aghast at the bare suggestion. "Not knowingly, you may be very sure. But about the telegram; you are not angry with me because I was desperate enough to answer it without having first shown it to you?"

"I said I was, and so I must be. But I don't see how you could have done otherwise – not after you had promised not to let anything interfere. Do you think Mr. Burton had a telegram, too?"