“This is too much. Let’s get out of it,” she said, grasping the skirt of her dress and springing into the carriage before her mother and without Paul’s help.
He was offering his hand to Mrs. Percy, when Max touched his arm and with a thickness of speech which made his words nearly unintelligible, began: “Mr. Ralston, I want to speak with you a minute. But no,—I’ll be darned if I can now. Take the ladies home first, and come back to the church. I’ll wait for you.”
“All right,” Paul said, wondering what Max had to say to him, and why he was so excited.
Entering the carriage and taking off his hat he bowed right and left to the people, feeling some like a conquering hero as he drove through their midst, knowing for a surety now that they were there to see him and Clarice.
“Careful, Tom, you’ll run over somebody,” he said, as Tom gave the horses a smart cut, which set them into a gallop.
“I wish I might kill ’em,” Tom muttered, slackening his speed when out on the avenue and away from the crowd.
He was in no hurry to get back to it again and sat very patiently while Paul accompanied the ladies into the house and said a few loving words to Clarice, who sank down in a fit of sobbing, saying she could not bear it.
“Yes you can, darling. Try and be brave,—for your mother’s sake and mine. You have me left, you know, and by and by we shall be very happy,” Paul said, himself removing her bonnet and making her lie down upon the couch.
Then, kissing her and promising to see her again after dinner, he left her and bade Tom drive to the church to see what Max Allen wanted.
“Your mother is sick. Hadn’t we better go straight home and let Max run?” Tom suggested, but Paul said, “No, it won’t take long to see what he wants;” and they started in the direction of the church, where some of the crowd still waited.