Nedra. George Barr McCutcheon

over the jardinière irresolutely.

      "It will be the greatest wedding tour that mortals ever took. Draw!"

      "Well, then, there's the card. Mercy!" she cried, dropping a card on the table. "That's a long distance, Hugh."

      He picked up the card and his face paled a little as he read:

      "Manila!"

      They sat down in the chair, she on the arm as before. After a moment he glanced at her perplexed face, and asked:

      "Are you afraid to go, Grace?"

      "It isn't that, Hugh. I was just wondering if we could reach Manila by the twenty-third of May. It is unlucky to change the wedding day after it has been once selected," she said softly.

      "Grace Vernon, you are an angel. I was afraid you would show the white feather. It's a go, then--Manila! We can start next week and get there in good time."

      "Next week? Impossible!" she cried in alarm.

      "Nonsense! You can get ready for a trip to New York, making your preparations for a sea voyage secretly. I'll attend to all the details. It will be easy. No one will ever dream of what we are doing until we cable the news home to your aunt."

      "Oh, I must tell Aunt Elizabeth!"

      "Not much! That's no way to elope. We must do it correctly or not at all. Nobody is to know until we are really married. Can you get ready in a week?"

      "If I really must."

      "Can't take any more time than that if we want to reach Manila in time for the wedding."

      "Oh, Hugh! We can't go to Manila!" she cried, suddenly starting to her feet in distress. "My Uncle Harry lives there. He is my mother's only brother and he's been there since the close of the war. He's in the hemp business. Oh, dear! How provoking!" she concluded almost piteously.

      "It's fine!" he exclaimed jubilantly. "We can be married at his home. I'm sure he'll be happy to have us. You can write and tell him we're coming, dear. Lord!" with great relief in his voice, "that simplifies matters immensely. Now we have an excuse for going to Manila. But above all things don't cable to him. Write a nice long letter and mail it just before we start."

      She was silent a long while, staring soberly at the blaze in the grate.

      "There'll be no bridesmaids and ushers over there, Hugh."

      "We don't want 'em."

      Silence for a few minutes.

      "In a week, did you say?"

      "Positively."

      "Well, I'll be ready," she said solemnly.

      He kissed her tenderly, lovingly, pressed her cold hand and said encouragingly:

      "We'll meet in New York next Monday afternoon. Leave everything to me, dear. It will be much pleasanter to go by way of London and it will help to kill a good deal of time."

      "Hugh," she said, smiling faintly, "I think we're proving that father was right. I can't possibly arrive at the age of discretion until I am twenty-three and past."

CHAPTER II

       Table of Contents

THE BEGINNING OF FLIGHT

       Table of Contents

      Mr. Ridgeway paced back and forth outside the iron gates in the Grand Central Station on the afternoon of April 1st, 190--, a smile of anticipation and a frown of impatience alternating in his fresh, young face. Certain lines of care seemed to have disappeared since we saw him last, nearly a week ago, and in their stead beamed the light of a new-found interest in life. Now and then he took from his pocket a telegram; spectators stared amusedly at him as he read and reread:

      DETROIT, MICHIGAN, March 81, 190--.

      To H.B. Ridge:

      Got away safely. Meet me Forty-second Street, New York, to-morrow at three. Feel awfully queer and look a fright. Sympathetic lady, next compartment, just offered condolences for loss of my husband. What are the probabilities of storm? Be sure and find out before we start.

      SISTER GRACE.

      "Isn't that just like a girl!" he muttered to himself. "Where else would Forty-second Street be but New York! London?"

      They had decided to travel as brother and sister and to adopt Ridge as the surname. Hugh had taken passage for Liverpool on the liner Saint Cloud, to sail on the second, having first examined the list of passengers to ascertain if there were any among them who might know him or his companion in the adventure. The list was now complete, and he, assured that there was no danger of recognition, felt the greatest weight of all lifted from his mind.

      He had also considerately inquired into the state of the weather and learned that it promised well for the voyage. The whole affair was such a glorious lark, such an original enterprise, that he could scarcely restrain himself in his exhilaration from confiding in his chance hotel acquaintances.

      Purposely, the night before, he had gone to an hotel where he was unknown, keeping under cover during the day as much as possible. According to the prearranged plan, they were to go aboard ship that evening, as the sailing hour was early in the morning.

      He was waiting for her train. Every now and then his glance would shoot through the throng of people, somewhat apprehensively, as if he feared, instead of hoped, that some one might be there. This searching glance was to determine whether there might be any danger of Chicago or New York acquaintances witnessing the arrival of the person for whom he waited. Once he recognized a friend and dodged quickly behind a knot of people, escaping notice. That is why he audibly muttered:

      "Thank Heaven!"

      Every nerve was tingling with excitement; an indescribable desire to fly, to shout, to race down the track to meet the train, swept through him. His heart almost stopped beating, and he felt that his face was bloodless. For the twentieth time in the last two hours Ridgeway looked at his watch and frowningly exclaimed:

      "Only five after two! Nearly an hour to wait!"

      He sat down for a moment, only to arise the next and walk to the board announcing the arrival of trains. Almost immediately one pulled into the station. Perceiving a bystander--one of the sort that always give the impression of being well-informed--he inquired casually where it was from.

      "Chicago," was the ready answer.

      "Great Scott! Lucky I came early! Grace's idea of time--oh, well, only the small matter of an hour out of the way."

      Quickly he sprang forward, taking up a good position to watch. First came a man hurriedly and alone. A bunch of people followed him. Hugh peered unsuccessfully here and there among them. Another bunch; she was not in it, and he began to feel a trifle nervous. Now came the stragglers and he grew bewildered. Finally, the last one--a woman hove in sight. With renewed hope he scanned her approach. It was not Grace! His brain was in a whirl. What could have happened? Where was she? Again he jerked out the telegram.

      "Meet me Forty-second Street, New York, at three," he read half-aloud. "Nothing could be plainer," he mused in perplexity. "No train at three; another at--she must be on a later one."

      "What time is the next Chicago train due?" he inquired anxiously at the Information Bureau.

      "Five-thirty, sir," politely answered the official.

      "Five-thirty!" he repeated disgustedly.

      Again the telegram was brought out and this time shown.

      "On what road did you expect the lady?" was