Chapter XXIX. By Force of Arms
With her heart throbbing fiercely, Hope clung to the outer door of the vestibule endeavoring to see a little of what was transpiring without. About her was dense darkness, and she dare not explore the surroundings. Behind could be heard, through what must have been a thin partition, the various distractions of the stage, shifting scenery, music, shuffling feet, voices, and the occasional sound of applause. The girl had nerved herself to the encounter with Hawley but this waiting here in darkness and uncertainty tried her to the uttermost. If some one should venture out that way how could she excuse her presence or explain her purpose? She found herself trembling in every limb from nervous fear, startled by every strange sound. Would the man never come? Surely Christie herself must be ready to depart by this time.
Almost prepared to flee before the terrors thus conjured up within her mind, they left her as if by magic the moment her straining eyes distinguished the approach of a dim figure without. She could not tell who it was, only that it was the unmistakable form of a man, and that he was whistling softly to himself. It might not prove to be the gambler, but she must accept the chance, for flesh and blood could stand the strain of waiting no longer. Yet she was not conscious of fear, only of exultation, as she stepped forth into the open, her blood again circulating freely in her veins. At the slight creak of the door the man saw her, his whistle ceasing, his hat lifted. Instantly she recognized him as Hawley, her heart leaping with the excitement of encounter.
“Why, hullo, Christie,” he said familiarly, “I thought I was early, and expected a ten minutes' wait. I came out as soon as you left the stage.”
“Oh, I can dress in a jiffy when there is any cause for hurry,” Hope responded, permitting herself to drift under his guidance. “Are you disappointed? Would you prefer to commune with nature?”
“Well, I should say not,” drawing her hand through his arm, and then patting it with his own. “I have seen about all I care to of nature, but not of Christie Maclaire.”
“You may learn to feel the same regarding her,” Hope answered, afraid to encourage the man, yet eagerly fearful lest she fail to play her part aright.
“Not the slightest danger,” laughing lightly, and pressing her arm more closely against his body. “Although I must confess you exhibited some temper when I was late to-night.”
“Did I not have occasion to? A woman should never be kept waiting, especially if her engagement be imperative.”