As the train swept past the little shelter shed he bethought himself and
turned a farewell tender smile on the white-haired woman who stood
watching him through a mist of tears. Then his eyes went back for one
last glimpse of the girl; and so he flashed out of sight around the
curve.
III
It had taken only a short time after all. The crowd drowned its cheer in
one deep gasp of silence and broke up tearfully into little groups
beginning to melt away at the sound of Michael ringing up the gates, and
telling the cars and wagons to hurry that it was almost time for the
up-train.
Ruth Macdonald started her car and tried to bring her senses back to
their normal calm wondering what had happened to her and why there was
such an inexpressible mingling of loss and pleasure in her heart.
The way at first was intricate with congestion of traffic and Ruth was
obliged to go slowly. As the road cleared before her she was about to
glide forward and make up for lost time. Suddenly a bewildered little
woman with white hair darted in front of the car, hesitated, drew back,
came on again. Ruth stopped the car shortly, much shaken with the swift
vision of catastrophe, and the sudden recognition of the woman. It was
the same one who had been with John Cameron.
"Oh, I'm so sorry I startled you!" she called pleasantly, leaning out of
the car. "Won't you get in, please, and let me take you home?"
The woman looked up and there were great tears in her eyes. It was plain
why she had not seen where she was going.
"Thank you, no, I couldn't!" she said with a choke in her voice and
another blur of tears, "I--you see--I want to get away--I've been seeing
off my boy!"
"I know!" said Ruth with quick sympathy, "I saw. And you want to get home
quickly and cry. I feel that way myself. But you see I didn't have
anybody there and I'd like to do a little something just to be in it.
Won't you please get in? You'll get home sooner if I take you; and see!
We're blocking the way!"
The woman cast a frightened glance about and assented:
"Of course. I didn't realize!" she said climbing awkwardly in and sitting
bolt upright as uncomfortable as could be in the luxurious car beside the
girl. It was all too plain she did not wish to be there.
Ruth manoeuvred her car quickly out of the crowd and into a side street,
gliding from there to the avenue. She did not speak until they had left
the melting crowd well behind them. Then she turned timidly to the woman:
"You--are--his--_mother_?"
She spoke the words hesitatingly as if she feared to touch a wound. The
woman's eyes suddenly filled again and a curious little quiver came on
the strong chin.
"Yes," she tried to say and smothered the word in her handkerchief
pressed quickly to her lips in an effort to control them.
Ruth laid a cool little touch on the woman's other hand that lay in her
lap:
"Please forgive me!" she said, "I wasn't sure. I know it must be
awful,--cruel--for you!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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