Dorlan now went home, fully resolved to await in calmer spirit the expected answer.
One day as Dorlan was sitting before his window, he saw a messenger boy come out of the telegraph office, pause and look up at the number on the house in which he was stopping.
The boy then started across the street in Dorlan's direction. Dorlan ran out of his room and down the steps, reaching the door before the boy. Sure enough the telegram was for Dorlan. He snatched it from the boy and handed him a dollar.
Dorlan turned to go upstairs. "Wait for your change, Mister. We don't get but ten cents extra."
"Keep the dollar, lad," said Dorlan, hurrying up the stairway. Entering his room he gently laid the telegram upon the center table and stood back to gaze upon it. Dorlan could not conceive how he could endure the excess of grief if the message was unfavorable, or the excess of joy if it was favorable. Cautiously he approached the table, then seized the telegram and tore it open.
The next instant the lady of the house verily thought that a Comanche Indian had broken into her establishment, so loud was Dorlan's shout of joy when his eyes fell on the one word, "Unfettered." Her astonishment was even greater when Dorlan so suddenly departed, leaving in her hands a roll of money far in excess of her charges.
Dorlan had no time for explanations. The soul that had come into the world to mate with his was calling for him and all other considerations had to fade away.
As the train rolled into the shed adjacent to the great depot at R——, Dorlan, who was standing on the platform of a coach, caught sight of Morlene, who had come down to the station to meet him. He seemed to feel that he could cover the remaining distance between himself and Morlene quicker than the train, for he leapt upon the platform before the train stopped and urged his way through the throng to the spot where she stood.
Then, half forgetting and half remembering the multitude present, Dorlan grasped the outstretched hands of Morlene drew her to him, and planted on her lips a kiss—just one, mark you. The ladies who were standing near looked searchingly at Dorlan, and rendered a silent verdict that Morlene could be excused for not resenting the salutation from so handsome and so noble looking a man.