“It’s not in the least wonderful,” said Ruth brightly. “Remember the hedge and Chuck Woodcock!” She was beginning to get her self possession again.
“You are paying that old score back in compound interest,” said Cameron.
That was a wonderful ride rushing along beneath the stars, going back to childhood’s days and getting acquainted again where they left off. Ruth forgot all about the cause of her wild chase, and the two young men she had left disconsolate in her library at home; forgot her own world in this new beautiful one, wherein her spirit really communed with another spirit; forgot utterly what Wainwright had said about Cameron as more and more through their talk she came to see the fineness of his character.
They flashed on from one little village to another, leaving one clustering glimmer of lights in the distance only to pass to other clustering groups. It was in their favor that there were not many other travellers to dispute their way, and they were hindered very little. Cameron had made the trip many times and knew the roads well. They did not have to hesitate and enquire the way. They made good time. The clocks were striking ten when they reached the outskirts of Baltimore.
“Now,” said Ruth in a sweetly imperious tone, consulting her timepiece to be sure she had counted the clock strokes correctly, “do you know what you are going to do, Mr. Corporal? You are going to land your mother and me at the nearest hotel, and take the car with you back to camp. You said one of the fellows had his car down there, so I’m sure you’ll be able to find a place to put it over night. If you find a way to send the car back to us in the morning, well and good. If not your mother and I will go home by train and the chauffeur can come down to-morrow and bring back the car; or, better still, you can drive yourself up the next time you get leave off.”
There was much argument about the matter within a brief space of time, but in the end (which came in five minutes) Ruth had her way, and the young soldier departed for his camp in the gray car with ample time to make the short trip, leaving his mother and Ruth at a Baltimore hotel; after having promised to call up in the morning and let them know what he could do about the car.
Ruth selected a large double room and went at once to the telephone to call up her aunt. She found to her relief that that good lady had not yet returned from her day with a friend in the city, so that no explanations would be necessary that night. She left word with the servant that she was in Baltimore with a friend and would probably be at home the next day sometime. Then she turned to find to her dismay that her companion was sitting in a low-armed chair with tears running down her cheeks.
“Oh, my dear!” she exclaimed rushing over to her, “you are all worn out!”
“Not a bit of it!” sobbed the mother with a smile like sunshine through her tears. “I was so happy I couldn’t keep from crying. Don’t you ever get that way? I’ve just been watching you and thinking what a dear beautiful child you are and how wonderful God has been to send you to help my boy. Oh, it was so dreadful to me to think of him going down to camp with those men! My dear, I smelt liquor on their breath when they came for him, and I was just crying and praying about it when you called me up. Of course, I knew my boy wouldn’t drink, but so many accidents can happen with automobiles when the driver is drunk! My dear, I never can thank you enough!”
They were both too excited to sleep soon, but long after the mother was asleep Ruth lay awake going over the whole day and wondering. There were so many things about the incident of the afternoon and evening, now that they were over, that were utterly out of accord with her whole life heretofore. She felt intuitively that her aunt would never understand if she were to explain the whole proceeding. There were so many laws of her little world of conventionalities that she had transgressed, and so many qualms of a belated conscience about whether she ought to have done it at all. What would Cameron think of her, anyway? Her cheeks burned hot in the dark over that question. Strange she had not thought of it at all either beforehand or while she sat beside him during that wonderful ride! And now the thing that Wainwright had said shouted itself out to her ears: “Rotten! Rotten! Rotten!” like a dirge. Suppose he were? It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t, but suppose he were? Well, suppose he were! How was she hurt by doing a kind act? Having taken that stand against all her former ideas Ruth had instant peace and drifted into dreams of what she had been enjoying, the way suddenly lit by a sleepy remembrance of Wetherill’s declaration: “He won’t drink! You can’t make him! It’s been tried again and again!” There was evidence in his favor. Why hadn’t she remembered that before? And his mother! She had been so sure of him!