dear! What is the matter?" And again, in real alarm, "What is it?" For Mary Smith, dropping down on the step beside her, was trembling. "My dear!" Miss Lydia said, in consternation.
"Miss Sampson, something – something has happened. A – a – an accident. I've come to you. I didn't know where else to go." She spoke with a sort of sobbing breathlessness.
"You did just right," said Miss Lydia, "but what – "
"You've got to help me! There's nobody else."
"Of course I will! But tell me – "
"If you don't help me, I'll die," Mary Smith said. She struck her soft clenched fist on her knee, then covered her face with her hands. "But you must promise me you won't tell? Ever – ever!"
"Of course I won't."
"And you'll help me? Oh, say you'll help me!"
"Have you and he quarreled?" said Miss Lydia, quickly. Her own experience flashed back into her mind; it came to her with a little flutter of pride that this child – she was really only a child, just nineteen – who was to be married so soon, trusted to her worldly wisdom in such matters, and came for advice.
"She hasn't any mother," Miss Lydia thought, sympathetically. "If you've quarreled, you and he," she said, putting her little roughened hand on Mary's soft, shaking fist, "tell him you're sorry. Kiss and make up!" Then she remembered why she and her William had not kissed and made up. "Unless" – she hesitated – "he has done something that isn't nice?" ("Nice" was Miss Lydia's idea of perfection.) "But I'm sure he hasn't! He seemed to me, when I saw him, a very pleasing young man. So kiss and make up!"
The younger woman was not listening. "I had to wait all day to come and speak to you. I've been frantic —frantic– waiting! But I couldn't have anybody see me come. They would have wondered. If you don't help me – "
"But I will, Mary, I will! Don't you love him?"
"Love him?" said the girl. "My God!" Then, in a whisper, "If I only hadn't loved him —so much… I am going to have a baby."
It seemed as if Miss Lydia's little friendly chirpings were blown from her lips in the gust of these appalling words.
Mary herself was suddenly composed. "They sent him off to Mexico at twenty-four hours' notice; it was cruel – cruel, to send him away! and he came to say good-by – And… And then I begged and begged father to let us get married; even the very morning that he went away, I said: 'Let us get married to-day. Please, father, please!' And he wouldn't, he wouldn't! He wanted a big wedding. Oh, what did I care about a big wedding! Still – I never supposed – But I went to Mercer yesterday and saw a doctor, and – and found out. I couldn't believe it was true. I said I'd die if it was true! And he said it was… So then I rushed to Carl's office… He was frightened – for me. And then we thought of you. And all day to-day I've just walked the floor – waiting to get down here to see you. I couldn't come until it was dark. Father thinks I'm in bed with a headache. I told the servants to tell him I had a headache… We've got to manage somehow to make him let us get married right off. But – but even that won't save me. It will be known. It will be known – in January."
Miss Lydia was speechless.
"So you've got to help me. There's nobody else on earth who can. Oh, you must – you must!"
"But what can I do?" Miss Lydia gasped.
"Carl and I will go away somewhere. Out West where nobody knows us. And then you'll come. And you'll take —It. You'll take care of it. And you can have all the money you want."
"My dear," Miss Lydia said, trembling, "this is very, very dreadful, but I – "
The girl burst into rending crying. "Don't you – suppose I know that it's – it's – it's dreadful?"
"But I don't see how I can possibly – "
"If you won't help me, I'll go right down to the river. Oh, Miss Lydia, help me! Please, please help me!"
"But it's impos – "
Mary stopped crying. "It isn't. It's perfectly possible! You'll simply go away to visit some friends – "
"I haven't any friends, except in Old Chester – "
"And when you come back you'll bring —It with you. And you'll say you've adopted it. You'll say it's the child of a friend."
Miss Lydia was silent.
"If you won't help me," Mary burst out, "I'll – "
"Does anybody know?" said Miss Lydia.
"No."
"Oh, my dear, my dear! You must tell your father."
"My father?" She laughed with terror.
Then Miss Lydia Sampson did an impossible thing – judging from Old Chester's knowledge of her character. She said, "He's got to know or I won't help you."
Mary's recoil showed how completely, poor child! she had always had her own way; to be crossed now by this timid old maid was like going head-on into a gray mist and finding it a stone wall. There was a tingling silence. "Then I'll kill myself," she said.
Miss Lydia gripped her small, work-worn hands together, but said nothing.
"Oh, please help me!" Mary said.
"I will – if you'll tell your father or Doctor Lavendar. I don't care which."
"Neither!" said the girl. She got on her feet and stood looking down at little shabby Miss Lydia sitting on the step with her black frizette tumbling forward over one frightened blue eye. Then she covered her face with those soft, trembling hands, all dimpled across the knuckles.
"Carl wanted to tell. He said, 'Let's tell people I was a scoundrel – and stand up to it.' And I said, 'Carl, I'll die first!' And I will, Miss Lydia. I'll die rather than have it known. Nobody must know – ever."
Miss Lydia shook her head. "Somebody besides me must know." Then very faintly she said, "I'll tell your father." There was panic in her voice, but Mary's voice, from behind the dimpled hands, was shrill with panic:
"You mustn't! Oh, you promised not to tell!"
Miss Lydia went on, quietly, "He and I will decide what to do."
"No, no!" Mary said. "He'll kill Carl!"
"I shouldn't think Carl would mind," said Miss Lydia.
The girl dropped down again on the step. "Oh, what shall I do – what shall I do – what shall I do? He'll hate me."
"He'll be very, very unhappy," said Miss Lydia; "but he'll know what must be done. I don't. And he'll forgive you."
"He won't forgive Carl! Father never forgives. He says so! And if he won't forgive Carl he mustn't forgive me!" She hid her face.
There was a long silence. Then she said, in a whisper, "When will you.. tell him?"
"To-night."
Again she cringed away. "Not to-night! Please not to-night. Oh, you promised you wouldn't tell! I can't bear – Let me think.
