The Danger MarkChambers, Robert W. (Robert William)
General
The Danger Mark
Chambers, Robert W. (Robert William)
New York (N.Y.) -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
Followed three letters less confident, and another very pitiful--a
frightened letter asking him to come if he could. But his father's
condition forbade it and he dared not.
Then another letter came, desperate, almost incoherent, yet still
bearing the red cross faintly traced. And on the heels of it a telegram:
"Could you stand by me until this is over? I am afraid of to-night.
Am on my way to town with my maid, very ill. I know you cannot
leave your father except at night. I will telephone you from the
house.
"G.S."
On the train a dispatch was handed her:
"I will be at your house as soon as my father is asleep. Don't
worry.
"DUANE."
Hour after hour she sat motionless beside the car-window, quiet, pale,
dark eyes remote; trees, houses, trains, telegraph-poles streamed past
in one gray, unending blur; rain which at first had only streaked the
grimy window-glass with cinders, became sleet, then snow, clotting the
dripping panes.
At last, far away under a heavy sky, the vast misshapen landmarks of New
York loomed up gray through the falling snow; the train roared over the
Harlem, halted at 125th Street, rolled on into the black tunnel, faster,
faster, slower, then more slowly, and stopped. All sounds ceased at the
same moment; silence surrounded her, dreary as the ominous silence
within.
Dunn met her with a brougham; Fifth Avenue was slippery with filthy,
melting slush; yet, somehow, into her mind came the memory of her return
from her first opera--the white avenue at midnight, the carriage, lamps
lighted, speeding through the driving snow. Yesterday, the quiet,
untainted whiteness of childhood; to-day, trouble and stress and stained
snow melting into mud--so far behind her lay innocence and peace on the
long road she had travelled! So far had she already journeyed--toward
what?
She pressed her lips more tightly together and buried her chin in her
sable muff. Beside her, her maid sat shivering and stifling yawn after
yawn and thinking of dinner and creature comforts, and of Dunn, the
footman, whom she did ardently admire.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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