A moment later the man returned, and politely ushered him into an elevator lined with mirrors, and luxuriously upholstered in red satin. At the fifth floor, the smooth-running car stopped, and the attendant pointed to an apartment across the corridor. Before Madison could reach the door, it was thrown wide open. There was a wild rush of rustling silks and white lace, a woman's stifled sob, and Laura was in his arms.
"Oh, John!" she cried almost hysterically, as the door closed behind him. "I'm so happy!"
For a moment he held her clasped tightly to him, as if afraid some one else might appear in this strange apartment to rob him of her. This was the supreme moment for which he had toiled and waited all these cruel, weary months. When at last, all red under his kisses, she released herself from his embrace, he took her face in his hands and held it up towards his. Tenderly, he said:
"I'm not much on the love-making business, Laura, but I never thought I'd be as happy as I am now. I've been counting mile-posts ever since I left Chicago, and it seemed like as if I had to go round the world before I got here."
Following close behind, as she went into the sitting room, he gave an exclamation of surprise as he took in the beautiful gilded furniture and rich furnishings. His eye seemed to ask questions he found no words for. She caught the look, and she trembled. Nervously waving him to a seat, she said:
"You never told me about your good fortune. If you hadn't telegraphed, I wouldn't even have known you were coming."
"I didn't want to," he replied, smiling. "I'd made up my mind to sort of drop in here and give you a great big surprise—a happy one, I knew—but the papers made such a fuss in Chicago that I thought you might have read about it—did you?"
"No, tell me," she said eagerly.
He sat down and began the story of his wanderings. He told her of his adventures in the search for gold, of his sufferings, and his narrow escape from death. In those dark hours, he had only had one thought, one hope—that he might be spared to see her once again.
"It's been pretty tough sledding out there in the mining country," he said. "It did look as if I never would make a strike; but your spirit was with me, and I knew if I could only hold out that something would come my way. I had a pal—a fine fellow. We started out to find gold. The first thing we knew we were lost—lost in the howling wilderness. We nearly perished of cold and hunger. It was a close call, little girl. I never thought I should see you again. But one day, when we were about all in, we struck gold—quantities of it, nuggets as big as my fist. We staked our claims in two weeks, and I went to Reno to raise enough money for me to come East. Now, things are all fixed, and it's just a matter of time."