The crowd through which I had roughly forced a passage for the girl and myself closed again behind us, and, with that, the doors of my old life creakingly began to move on their rusty hinges and slowly started to close themselves entirely. They did not close themselves with a bang and a slam—if they had done that I might have been aware of their maneuver and would, most likely, have offered resistance—and, even their slow move was not known to me then, but only recognized by me in the years to come. This happens to many of us. We are successful or unfortunate, rich or poor, and can in our acquired state clearly trace back the line to an event which was the parting of the ways.
THE BEGINNING OF THE MIRACLE.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE BEGINNING OF THE MIRACLE.
For the first time in my life I found myself playing the part of a chivalric knight, and, let me assure you, the poorest actor could not have played it worse. Part of my existence had been to watch others. Not to learn from them by observation, but to find their weaknesses. While engaged in the most potent part of my observations, I was never so concentrated in them that I entirely overlooked the minor details. So I had seen gentlemen help ladies to and from carriages, had seen them assist their women friends across gutters and crossings, and open doors for them. Walking beside the young lady I knew something was expected from me in the line of politeness, but I who had always been accustomed to go up "against the hardest games and unfavorable odds," felt most uncomfortable at not being sure what to do in a case like this. Perhaps this was the reason, why I, instead of seeing her along for a block or two, kept on walking beside her, because I did not know how to take leave without giving serious offense by my way of expressing my leavetaking. The truth of the matter was I was afraid.
This confession of mine will lead you to think that there was something about her inspiring awe or fear. But you are wrong, very wrong.
She was not tall, not statuesque. She was not a "queenly looking" girl judged by external appearance. Her queenliness was within, so potent, so convincing, that neither man nor beast could refrain from bowing to it. I was in the dilemma of wanting to be a gentleman, a courtier to my queen, and not knowing how to be one.
Somehow impelled, I kept on walking beside her. She was not wanting in expressions of gratitude, but I did no better than to acknowledge them with deep-toned grunts.
To explain matters, she told me she was a teacher in one of the near-by schools, and was compelled to pass our "hang-out" every day on her way to and from home. In exchange for her confidence I should have introduced myself, but, alas! this big, hulking oof knew naught of politeness.
But the bonny little lass was a marvel of tact and diplomacy. Not commenting on or pretending to notice my neglect of the customary introduction, she appointed herself inquisitor-in-chief. She put me on the witness stand and cross-examined me. Leading questions were fired at me with the rapidity of a trained lawyer. Ere I knew it, she knew all about me and I felt ashamed at having a little mite like her break down all the barriers of that reticence on which I prided myself.