"Hurrah!"
They laughed like children who had discovered a long-sought treasure, then hand-in-hand as they had walked so far, they dropped down the steep slope and into a quaint mining village.
The sound of men, the scent of smoke, and above all, the clang and puff of a locomotive, sent their blood racing. Too happy to speak, they ran along the street scarcely noticing the people, and found the station.
That night they were speeding toward the coast, and a few days later found them northward-bound on a liner.
It was decided that Lawrence should not go with her to her home. He would wait in San Francisco till she had seen her husband and was free. They parted with eager yet hesitating hearts in that city. Claire found it harder than she had imagined to go alone, but her will was master and she did not falter. To Lawrence, waiting for word from her, time was dead and moved not at all.
When Claire arrived, the old familiar city seemed strangely desolate. She found herself wondering with a little flush of shame how she could have loved it so. Then came her testing time. She had arrived late at night and gone to a hotel. No one had noticed her. The next morning as she went into the breakfast-room, some one rose hastily, with an exclamation. It was her husband's business partner.
How she ever got through her own explanations she did not know, then she heard him speaking.
"Yes, Mrs. Barkley, we had given you up for lost with the others on that fated ship. And I cannot express my regret at the sorrow you have returned to meet."
"I—sorrow—why?" She stared at him wonderingly.
He looked surprised, then understood. Claire listened silently to his brief, sincere sympathy as he told her how her husband had died during the winter of pneumonia.