CHAPTER LXX.

ON THE TRAIN.

At the station, which Richard Storms had designated, Judith Hart had been waiting while three or four trains went by. She did not travel much by railroads, and this was almost like a new experience to her. She had brought no luggage, for the pretty dress of black and scarlet, that Storms had given her, was the only portion of her wardrobe worth taking away, and she had put that on with a womanly desire to please his parents with her appearance, which certainly was that of a beautiful, if not highly-bred, girl.

It was getting dark when a train came up, and Storms, recognizing her on the platform, made the signal agreed upon, though his face clouded over, and he stifled an oath between his teeth when he saw how conspicuous the dress made her.

"I might have known it," he thought; "from the highest to the lowest, all female creatures are alike. Most of them would go in full dress to the gallows, if the hangman were fool enough to permit it."

Judith had not seen the first signal, but stood on the verge of the platform, looking with evident disappointment up and down the train, when her eyes fell on the department he was in. The next instant she sprang up the steps and took a seat by his side, but the smile left her face when he looked up vaguely and turned to the opposite window, as if her presence was an intrusion.

The train gave a lurch and moved on. Then she ventured to speak.

"You look sullen. You do not seem glad. What is the matter, Richard?"

Storms turned in his seat and scrutinized her dress from head to foot.

"You don't like it?" she said, in some confusion; "but I had nothing else fit to wear at your mother's house, and I thought you would like me to look like a lady, as you are to make me one so soon. Forgive me, if I have taken too much on myself."

"Forgive you for making yourself so handsome? I should be a brute of a fellow not to do that."

The girl's heart leaped. She had expected harsh language, reproach, perhaps bitterness, if the dress did not please him; but there was nothing of this; on the contrary, there was hilarity in his voice, a sort of careless abandonment, as if some pleasant surprise had been given him, which he was prepared to accept with acquiescence at least.

This ready, almost hilarious, approval of her dress overwhelmed Judith with delight.

"Oh, how tired I was of waiting! How happy I am!" she sighed, leaning toward him.

Storms drew her close to him with a fierce grip of the arm, in a passion of love or hate which took away her breath; then his arm released its hold, and he made a gesture as if to push her from him.

"What is the matter?" she questioned, turning her eyes wildly upon him.

"Nothing," he said; "your curls brushed my face; that is all."

"It seemed almost as if you hated me," said the girl, rubbing her arm with one hand.

"Hated you! What should make me do that?"

"Perhaps because I come between you and that Jessup girl, with all her money."

"What is her money to me? It was the old people that wanted it, not I. Now, all she has got would be nothing compared to what I can give a wife."

"To think that all this has been brought about by a bit of paper! That chance lifted me out of myself. Loving you as I did, it was like opening the gates of heaven to me."

"Yes, the gate of heaven," repeated the young man, in a voice full of weird irony. "It would be a pity to draw you back."

"It would kill me," answered Judith. "It seems as if a world of happiness had been crowded into these days, when I am made sure of being your wife! Can it be? Am I certain of that? Ah, what changes a day may bring!"

"Yes, many things may be done in less than a day," said Storms, in a light if not mocking tone. "It only takes a minute or two sometimes for a man to yoke himself up for life. If one could only wrench himself free as easily, now!"

"You speak as if I were not quite forgiven for keeping back that paper," she said with a look of swift apprehension.

"Do I? Well, you will soon learn how I can forgive.

"What do you mean, Richard?"

"Nothing. But this is the station nearest to 'Norston's Rest.' We get out here."

The whistle of a train coming from the east was just then sounding sharp and clear in the distance.

Storms left his train just as it began to move, and Judith followed him. When she reached the platform he turned his face upon her in the starlight, and she saw that he was smiling.

"Come," he said, drawing her toward the track.

"Step back! Step back! Here comes another train," cried Judith. "How awfully human that red light blazes in front of the engine! It frightens me! Oh, be careful."

Storms had flung one arm around the girl's waist and forced her to the very edge of the platform, as if about to help her leap across the rails, but she pressed back in terror and clung to him till the train passed by.

"Why, what makes you tremble so? What did you shriek for?"

"I was so near the edge the hot steam swept over me."

"Over me, too. The engine lurched up so suddenly that I nearly lost my balance; but that was nothing to get frightened about. Come, now, the coast is clear, and the old people will be expecting us. You are not so tired that we cannot walk from the station?"

Judith laughed.

"Tired? Oh, no. I could walk twenty miles if they only ended at your home. You don't know how I have longed for a sight of it!"

"Come, then. We will go across the park. It is the nearest way, and you know it best."

Judith did not answer; her usual high spirits were dampened. She only folded the scarlet sacque over her bosom, and prepared to follow Storms, breathing heavily, she could not have told why.

No other passengers left the train at that station, and, without entering the building, these two passed into the village in mutual stillness. Once beyond that, Storms kept the highway until they reached the side-gate in the park wall.

"This is our nearest way to the old house. It saves a good bit of road," he said, opening the gate with his key.

Judith followed him. She knew the path well and took it willingly. This really was the nearest way to the farm-house.

They were in the wilderness now, threading it by a path that made a sudden descent to the Black Lake.

"Richard! Richard!" Judith cried out, in nervous haste. "How fast you walk! It quite takes away my breath."

Storms slackened the rapid pace with which he was walking and threw his arms around her; then kissed her fiercely upon the lips, so fiercely that she was not aware that his hand pressed the paper hidden in her bosom, and she struggled away from him, for the kiss brought shuddering with it, as if an asp had stung her.

"Why, girl, I thought you loved me."

"I do--I do! Oh, how dearly!"

"But you do not know yet how I can love."

They were descending the path that led to the lake. Now the young man girded her waist with one arm and hurried her forward almost beyond her power of walking. When they reached the lake she was panting for breath.

"One minute--let me rest a minute," she pleaded, holding back from the bank, which they were walking dangerously near.

"A minute? Oh, yes. I will give you that," he said. "Indeed, I feel tired myself. Come in here. It will seem like old times."