CHAPTER XXIII.
ALINE TURNS A CORNER
Aline might have been completely prostrated by the news of her husband’s sudden end, coming as it did as the culmination of a week of strain and horror. That she did not succumb was due, perhaps, to Ridgway’s care for her. When Harley’s massive gray head had dropped forward to the table, his enemy’s first thought had been of her. As soon as he knew that death was sure, he hurried to the hotel.
He sent his card up, and followed it so immediately that he found her scarcely risen from the divan on which she had been lying in the receiving-room of her apartments. The sleep was not yet shaken from her lids, nor was the wrinkled flush smoothed from the soft cheek that had been next the cushion. Even in his trouble for her he found time to be glad that Virginia was not at the moment with her. It gave him the sense of another bond between them that this tragic hour should belong to him and her alone—this hour of destiny when their lives swung round a corner beyond which lay wonderful vistas of kindly sunbeat and dewy starlight stretching to the horizon’s edge of the long adventure.
She checked the rush of glad joy in her heart the sight of him always brought, and came forward slowly. One glance at his face showed that he had brought grave news.
“What is it? Why are you here?” she cried tensely.
“To bring you trouble, Aline.”
“Trouble!” Her hand went to her heart quickly.
“It is about—Mr. Harley.”
She questioned him with wide, startled eyes, words hesitating on her trembling lips and flying unvoiced.
“Child—little partner—the orders are to be brave.” He came forward and took her hands in his, looking down at her with eyes she thought full of infinitely kind pity.