FullReads

“What a stupid brute I am!” he said, between his teeth. “I try to be decent, but I can’t. I’ll do anything in the world to spare you–indeed I will. Tell me, would you prefer to dine alone–“

“Hush! people are listening,” she said, in a low voice. “It’s bad enough to be taken for bride and groom, but if people in this car think we’ve quarrelled I–I simply cannot endure it.”

“Who took us for–that?” he whispered, fiercely.

“Those people behind you; don’t look! I heard that horrid little boy say, ‘B. and G.!’ and others heard it. I–I think you had better sit down here a moment.”

He sat down.

“The question is,” she said, with heightened color, “whether it is less embarrassing for us to be civil to each other or to avoid each other. Everybody has seen the porter bring in our luggage; everybody supposes we are at least on friendly terms. If I go alone to the dining-car, and you go alone, gossip will begin. I’m miserable enough now–my position is false enough now. I–I cannot stand being stared at for thirty-six hours–“

“If you say so, I’ll spread the rumor that you’re my sister,” he suggested, anxiously. “Shall I?”

Even she perceived the fatal futility of that suggestion.

“But when you take off your glove everybody will know we’re not B. and G.,” he insisted.

She hesitated; a delicate flush crept over her face; then she nervously stripped the glove from her left hand and extended it. A plain gold ring encircled the third finger. “What shall I do?” she whispered. “I can’t get it off. I’ve tried, but I can’t.”

“Does it belong there?” he asked, seriously.

“You mean, am I married? No, no,” she said, impatiently; “it’s my grandmother’s wedding-ring. I was just trying it on this morning–this morning of all mornings! Think of it!”

She looked anxiously at her white fingers, then at him.

“What do you think?” she asked, naively; “I’ve tried soap and cold-cream, but it won’t come off.”

“Well,” he said, with a forced laugh, “Fate appears to be personally conducting this tour, and it’s probably all right–” He hesitated. “Perhaps it’s better than to wear no ring–“

“Why?” she asked, innocently. “Oh! perhaps it’s better, after all, to be mistaken for B. and G. than for a pair of unchaperoned creatures. Is that what you mean?”

“Yes,” he said, vaguely.

There came a gentle jolt, a faint grinding sound, a vibration increasing. Lighted lanterns, red and green, glided past their window.

“We’ve started,” he said.

Then a negro porter came jauntily down the aisle, saying something in a low voice to everybody as he passed. And when he came to them he smiled encouragement and made an extra bow, murmuring, “First call for dinner, if you please, madam.”

They were the centre of discreet attention in the dining-car; and neither the ring on her wedding-finger nor their bearing and attitude towards each other were needed to confirm the general conviction.

He tried to do all he could to make it easy for her, but he didn’t know how, or he never would have ordered rice pudding with a confidence that set their own negro waiter grinning from ear to ear.

She bit her red lips and looked out of the window; but the window, blackened by night and quicksilvered by the snow, was only a mirror for a very lovely and distressed face.

Indeed, she was charming in her supposed role; their fellow-passengers’ criticisms were exceedingly favorable. Even the young imp who had pronounced them B. and G. with infantile unreserve appeared to be impressed by her fresh, young beauty; and an old clergyman across the aisle beamed on them at intervals, and every beam was a benediction.

As for them, embarrassment and depression were at first masked under a polite gayety; but the excitement of the drama gained on them; appearances were to be kept up in the roles of a comedy absolutely forced upon them; and that brought exhilaration.