“Yes, darling,” she said, “for it was love that saved me. I had something to live for, and I fought hard. Now I am to leave you for a while. My husband and I” (how proudly she said that), “my husband and I are going away.”
“Her aunt Madison has kindly offered us her beautiful, private car, and we are going away for a long rest before we come back to our work,” said Ralph innocently, and I saw that for some reason Mildred had still kept him ignorant of the fact that he had married a great heiress instead of a poor teacher. “This is to be our honey-moon, you know,” he added, looking at her with the lovelight shining in his eyes. “We are going quietly. No one but Jim is to know of it, for the doctor says we must spare ourselves the excitement of the good-byes which would have to be said if the people knew we were going. The men have been clamoring for a month to see me, and it has been hard for me to keep quiet and not let them come.”
“How would you feel,” asked his wife in a careless tone, “if you had married a rich woman, who would ask you to go away and never come back to work here again?” and Mildred, who was holding my hand, gave it a mischievous little squeeze as she looked demurely out of the window and awaited his reply.
“I don’t know. I am afraid I could not quite forgive her unless she gave me better work to do elsewhere. I could not be idle, you know, even with you, darling,” he answered, smiling at the bright face beside him.
“Ah, the world is large; there are many who need us; rich or poor, we will find our work somewhere,” said Mildred softly, as if to herself. Then as Jim’s steps were heard at the door she started.
“Come, Ralph, one last look at your books and room, it may be long before we return. Kiss Ruby, too; you must be her brother now, you know.”
Two warm kisses were on my cheek, then the door opened and shut, and they were gone.
Everything had been arranged for my comfort, and a month later, when I was able to travel in a private car which Mildred had sent us, aunt and Alice, cousin Will and I, were on the Northern Pacific Road again, bound eastward. And with us went the motherless little Karl and Annchen to find a new home and many friends.
One day, as we were speeding along over the Dakota prairies, Alice and I fell to talking as usual about the summer that was past and its strange, strange ending. Suddenly Alice exclaimed, “But, Ruby, I never thought to ask you before; do you understand why Mildred, on her deathbed as we supposed, should have stopped that minister? I thought I understood most of her ideas, but that was inexplicable to me.”
“Yes, I understand it, I suppose, for I once had an argument with her about it,” I replied. “I remember we had been to a stylish wedding at Trinity. There were ten bridesmaids, and the bride was dressed like a princess, and I remember how, as we drove away, Mildred exclaimed that she would rather have been married in a print dress in a log-cabin and promise what was honorable and true, than to have had the beautiful display which this bride had, and make such promises as she had done.