Lifting her in, he cries, in feeble agitation, "The Townsend House! Quick!" for he fears his charge will faint again in the carriage. But she is beyond fainting now.
She whispers hoarsely: "You recognized him also?" then wrings her hands, and gasps, "My God! my father!" next bursts out: "That was the reason I did not meet him. That is the reason he never wanted me to come West to live with him—among his concubines he calls wives—he, my father, who once called my mother wife!"
Then to Oliver Livingston comes the opportunity of his life—his one supreme moment to win this woman, who is more beautiful in her agony even than in her joy; for the girl has fallen sobbing on his shoulder, and had he but treated her as if he loved her—aye, even pitied her—she would have given unto him gratitude so potent it might have grown to love, and so made her his.
But his puny heart is too small for such magnanimity, and to her tears and her mutterings, "What will the world think of me now?" he replies: "This is awful. This is a terrible thing for you. It will take you a long time to live this down. You had better retire from society for a time. Prayer and repent—"
And so his opportunity forever leaves him. The girl cuts short his last word with a shudder, then draws herself up, and says, a desperate gleam in her eyes: "Don't dare to talk to me as if the sin of my father was my sin. That kind of innuendo I will not permit!" next mutters: "I asked for sympathy and you gave me a sermon!" A moment after, she says, in measured tones, "We are at the hotel. You need not help me down. The touch of the polygamist's daughter might sully you, Mr. Immaculate!"
CHAPTER XI.
"FOR BUSINESS PURPOSES."
Then, unheeding his proffered aid, Erma descends from the carriage, and going into the house, he following her, she turns, and says haughtily: "I wish to see your mother as soon as she comes from the theatre; but, before that, I must see him," and mutters, "If it is not too much of a service to me, in my extremity, go back to the meeting and tell my father to come to me at once. It may be the last favor I shall ever ask of you," and strides to her room.
So, he leaves her to go on her errand; but chancing to pass a barroom, he goes in, a thing which is unusual for him, and, calling for a glass of brandy, gulps it down, his hands trembling a little.