"But I must ask—must demand—the privilege of one parting word," said Arthur firmly. "Do not be apprehensive of any painful scene. I desire only to wish her every happiness, and to bid her farewell."
Mr. Dod, though on the eve of his wedding day, was not wholly oblivious of the love affairs of other people. I could see a new-born and overwhelming comprehension of the situation in his face as he put his head in at the door and beckoned to Isabel. Evidently he could not trust himself to speak.
"Miss Portheris," he said, with magnificent self-control, "Mr. Page. Mr. Page would like to wish you every happiness and to bid you farewell, Isabel, and I don't see why he shouldn't. We have still five minutes."
There are limits to the propriety of all practical jokes, and I walked out at once to assure Arthur that his misunderstanding was quite natural, and somewhat less exquisitely humorous than Mr. Dod appeared to find it.
"I am merely eloping too," I said, "in case anything should happen to Isabel." Realising that this was also being misinterpreted, I added, "She is not accustomed to travelling alone."
We had shaken hands, and that always makes a situation more normal, but there was still plainly an enormous amount to clear up, and painfully little time to do it in, though Dicky with great consideration immediately put Isabel into the carriage and followed her to its remotest corner, leaving me standing at the door, and Arthur holding it open. The second bell rang as I learned from Mr. Page that the Pattersons had gone to Newport this summer, and that it was extremely hot in New York when he left. As the guard came along the platform shutting up the doors of the train, Arthur's agitation increased, and I saw that his customary suffering in connection with me, was quite as great as anybody could desire. The guard had skipped our carriage, but it was already vibrating in departure—creaking—moving. I looked at Arthur in a manner—I confess it—which annihilated our two months of separation.
"Then since you're not going to marry Dod," he inquired breathlessly, walking along with the train—"I've heard various reports—whom, may I ask, are you going to marry?"
"Why, nobody," I said, "unless——"
"Well, I should think so!" ejaculated Arthur, and in spite of the frightful German language used by the guard, he jumped into the carriage.
He has maintained ever since that he was obliged to do it in order to explain his presence on the platform, which was, of course, carrying the matter to its logical conclusion. It seemed that the Senator had advised him to come over and meet us accidentally in Venice, where he had intimated that reunion would be only a question of privacy and a full moon. On his arrival at Venice—it was his gondola that we shared—the Senator had discouraged him for the moment, and had since constantly telegraphed him that the opportune moment had not yet arrived. Finally poppa had written to say that, though he grieved to announce that I was engaged to Dicky, and he could not guarantee any disengagement, he was still operating to that end. This, however, precipitated Mr. Page to Cologne, where observation of our movements at a distance brought him to the wrong conclusion, but fortunately to the right platform. As Isabel remarked, if such things were put in books nobody would believe them.