As he stepped from the car the tumbling roar of the river filled his ears—that and the high pines' sighing under the stars, and the sweet-scented night wind in his face greeted and met him as he set foot on the platform at Runner's Rest station and looked around for the conveyance that he had asked Stephanie to send.
There was nobody in sight except the baggage agent. He walked toward the rear of the station, turned the corner, and saw Stephanie standing there bareheaded in the starlight, wrapped in a red cloak, her hair in two heavy braids.
"Steve!" he exclaimed. "Why on earth did you come—you darling!"
"Did you imagine I wouldn't?" she asked unsteadily.
"I told you over the wire to send Williams with a buckboard."
"Everybody was in bed when the telephone rang. So I concluded to sit up for you, and when the time came I went out to the stable, harnessed up, and drove over here."
Her hand was trembling in his while she spoke, but her voice was under control.
They turned together and went over to the buckboard. She stepped in; he strapped his suitcase on behind, then followed her and took the reins from her gloved hands.
They were very quiet, but he could feel her tremble a little at times, when their shoulders were in contact. The tension betrayed itself in his voice at moments, too.
"I have a night letter from Oswald," she said. "They telephoned it up from the station. He is coming to-morrow morning."