“No,” answered Mr. Polk, with a smile that flitted quickly, “she did not marry me at all, and so has left me lonely all my life. I would have been a far better man had she done so. As it is,” and the bitterness crept into his voice again, “I stopped half-way up the hill of success as I told you, and threw my prospects away. That is why you are to live my life over for me and bring success whether or no.”
VIII
OPPORTUNITY
Mr. Polk and Steve made their railroad trip by night, and the sleeper with its rows of shelf-like beds was a fresh experience for the boy, but he climbed to the upper berth and slept the sleep of healthy youth. They reached L––– about seven o’clock in the morning, and the sight of mountain and valley spread out before them in purple beauty gave a strange thrill of joy to Steve. The mountaineer’s love of the mountains rushed upon him after all his new, pleasant experiences with a first consciously defined emotion.
“Well,” said Mr. Polk, “now the problem is how we can cover that forty miles which lies between us and our school.” But just at that moment he spied an old man helping a woman into a wagon, and at once he stepped up, found they were fortunately going to the same point, and would gladly take in two passengers with the ready accommodation of mountain people.
They travelled leisurely on and on, Steve seeing things of a familiar type and Mr. Polk much that was fresh and interesting. They stopped over night at a 92 little settlement and journeyed on again next day, reaching their destination early in the evening. When the group of school buildings came into view, the old mountaineer pointed out the main building with its tower, and told them which was the “gals’ sleepin’ place,” and which “the boys’ sleepin’ place,” as he termed the two dormitories. He drove directly to the president’s home, a little unpainted frame house. They were cordially received, entertained at supper and taken afterwards to the boys’ dormitory, where Steve was given a room with several other boys. Then they walked over to “The Hall,” as it was called, and were introduced to the teachers, who were gathering there for the study hour. They had met several when a young woman’s trim, slender figure, with a decided air of the city about it, appeared in the doorway, and the light from within lit up a pair of clear, steady brown eyes, a pleasant mouth with firmness lurking in the corners, and fluffy brown hair put back in a roll from a very attractive face.
She stood a moment there in the doorway with a casual glance for the strangers, then suddenly caught her breath and went white, but instantly recovered herself as the president, oblivious of any tragic moment for her, turned and said:
“This is Miss Grace Trowbridge; she came down here all the way from New York City to teach mountain 93 boys and girls,––and she knows how to do it, too.”