CHAPTER XXXI.

With trembling hands, this hapless girl, who had taken such a terrible resolve, opened the door of her room, and glided softly down the long corridor and out of the hotel.

Ida May had scarcely gained the street before a carriage drove up, and Eugene Mallard sprung from it. He was surprised at seeing Ida advancing to meet him. She drew back with a cry.

"Are you ready?" he asked; but before she could answer, he went on: "You do not wear your traveling-dress. Was there anything amiss with it?"

[135]

She tried to keep back the sobs from her lips; but almost before she was aware of it, she had confessed to him that she was about to flee from him.

Standing there, very gently and patiently, he went over the ground with her, insisting upon her following out their original plan; and the upshot of it all was, she returned to her room, donned her traveling-dress, joined him again, and took a seat beside him in the carriage.

A little later the railway station was reached, and they were soon whirling away toward the mysteries of the future.

"We will reach our destination a little before midnight," Eugene said, seating himself opposite her. "There will be a number of old friends at the station to give my bride a welcome home," he added in a voice that was husky, despite his efforts at self-control; and Ida knew that he was thinking of that other bride whom he had intended to bring to them, and she felt most wretched at the effort he was making to look the present difficulty in the face and bear up under it.

How he must loathe her! Her very presence most be hateful to him! The thought of that made her shrink still further from Eugene Mallard.

She felt like opening the car window and springing from it out into the blackness of the night. Then he would be free to marry Hildegarde. On and on through the darkness rushed the express.

"The next station will be ours," he said at length. Ida looked up in apprehension. There would be a party of friends awaiting Eugene's home-coming; but, ah! what would they say when they saw that it was not Hildegarde whom he had wedded? Had he a mother—had he sisters?

Perhaps he divined her thoughts, for quite as soon as they had flashed through her brain he turned to her, and said, abruptly:

"I have told you nothing of my home life. It was an oversight on my part, possibly because the idea did[136] not occur to me. I have no relatives upon the face of the earth, except the scape grace cousin you know of. From my uncle I inherited the Virginia home to which I am taking you. It is presided over by Mrs. Rice, an old lady who has served in the capacity of housekeeper for twenty years. All the servants have been in the household quite as long a time. They are good and faithful to me. They will receive you warmly. Your word shall be their law. No one outside the household will know of our strained relationship. The secret will be kept faithfully from the world by the members of my household."

"I do not deserve so much consideration at your hands," murmured the girl.

Before he had time to reply, their station was reached. There were few people at the station owing to the lateness of the hour.

An old-fashioned carry-all was waiting at the rear. Peering out from it was the face of old Black Joe.

"Welcome, marse! welcome!" he cried. "An' a thousand welcomes to the lovely young missus, your bride! There's a great company at the house, sir, awaiting you both."

Eugene Mallard thanked the old colored servant for his kind wishes for himself and bride, as he helped Ida into the vehicle.

There was a long ride over a rough mountain road, during which time, much to old Black Joe's surprise, scarcely a word was exchanged between the bride and groom, and it puzzled the good old man.

Was the lady ill? So great was his concern over it, that he was tempted to ask his master the question a dozen times. But prudence restrained him.

At length, in turning an abrupt curve in the road, a gray stone mansion, fairly ablaze with lights from cellar to dome, loomed in sight—lights that twinkled like glow-worms in the distance. They could hear the strains of music, and as they approached they could even hear the sound of voices.

Still no word was uttered by either of them.