Chance of a Lifetime

by Grace Livingston Hill

  There was an irritable permission to enter, and Sherrill opened the door and came to the point at once. “Aunt Eloise, I’m sorry I lost my temper and spoke to you as I did. I don’t suppose you realized how angry it would make me to have you say what you did, but I was very wrong to let my tongue—”

  The elder woman interrupted her pettishly. “Is this supposed to be an apology you are making? Because, if it is, you may spare your breath and my time. I never listen to apologies. People never make apologies except to show how much better they think they are than anybody else. Actions speak louder than words. Just let the matter rest. I have my opinion and you have yours!”

  Sherrill looked at her aunt blankly for a moment and then with a quiver of her lip turned and went back to her room. This was the end, surely. One could not live with a woman who would not even allow an acknowledgment of wrong done. She was impossible.

  Sherrill knelt down again and prayed softly. “Oh, God, my Father, please let me go home now. I can’t stand this any longer.”

  Then she got up and began to pack.

  It gave her swift pleasure to be folding her pretty garments into her trunk. She had prevailed upon the maid to leave her trunk in the ample closet and not send it to the trunk room, so now she did not have to make public what she was doing. She felt that she must make this final, and get ready before she told anybody she was going, even get her trunk off if possible.

  She worked rapidly, carefully, with a clearness of thought that brought results, and soon the closet was empty and the trunk about ready to close. Then she went downstairs to reconnoiter.

  Maida came from the dining room to get the mail from the postbox, and Sherrill asked her if she knew whether the chauffeur was going downtown that afternoon again. She wanted him to do an errand for her.

  “He’s just taken Madam to that tea, but he’ll be back soon. He has to take Miss Carol’s suitcase to her at the dressmaker’s, and perhaps he can do your errand then. I’ll leave word with the cook to tell him, and he’ll let you know when he comes. I have to pack now for Madam and Miss Carol. They are going to that weekend house party on Long Island. They go for dinner. You’re not to go, Madam said?”

  The words were a statement but the tone was a question.

  “No,” said Sherrill brightly, “I’ve changed my plans, and—I’m going home. I find I have to.”

  She passed on into her room, her head up.

  The house party! She had forgotten it! It had been a mooted question, and she had wanted to get out of it, but the hostess was the sweet old white-haired woman in black velvet and old lace whom she had met at her first tea in New York. The invitation was especially pressing, so that her aunt had been insistent. But now it seemed she was going without her. She drew a breath of relief. Just so easily had the way been made plain for her to go home. They would all be out of the way and she might write a note of farewell and take the midnight train. But she must work quickly.

  Taking advantage of the temporary absence of everybody, Sherrill went to the telephone booth and called up the Pennsylvania Station to find out about trains. Then, to burn the bridges behind her, sent a telegram to her brother.

  TAKING MIDNIGHT TRAIN FROM NEW YORK. HOMESICK FOR YOU ALL. SHERRILL.

  They would wonder, and be a little worried, but not much, and they would not have long to worry. Anyway, they would get used to the idea of her return before she had to explain it. It was humiliating to be a failure, of course, but she ought not to have come at all. That was very plain. She had prayed and prayed to be shown the way and why she was here, and nothing had come but more trouble. Now it was good to be going home.

  Swiftly she put the last things in her trunk, made sure that everything was left out that she would need on her journey, packed her overnight bag, and was ready when the chauffeur tapped at her door.

  “I’m having to leave tonight, Morton,” she said pleasantly, slipping a bill into his hand. “I’m wondering if you could find it convenient to just look after checking my trunk. Here’s my ticket, and it’s the midnight train south. Can you get me a reservation on the sleeper, too?”

  Sherrill knew the tip was generous, even for New York, but she wanted service and had done it intentionally. The man melted and was gracious accordingly. In another hour Sherrill received her tickets and checks and saw her trunk depart to the station. She drew a long breath of relief and began to feel thrilled at the thought of being at home in the morning. Home! Dear home! She would never leave it again. It was all the chance of a lifetime she wanted.

  There was just one more thing to be done before she left New York, and that was to return a couple of books that she had taken out of the public library on her uncle’s card, which he had put at her disposal. Nobody else in the family ever read books, and she did not wish to trouble anybody to return them.

  So she put on her hat and coat, and started.

  The bus at the corner would take her downtown in the neighborhood of the library. It was good not to have anyone there to question her action. Her aunt would probably not return from the tea before half past five, and she could be back in her room by that time. Then if her aunt wished to speak with her, she would send for her. She did not wish to go away like a coward, but, on the other hand, there was no use trying to explain anything to Aunt Eloise. She was just impossible.

  So Sherrill climbed happily into the bus with a sense of new freedom she had not had since she came to New York and suddenly remembered that Christmas was almost at hand, and she must get something for each of the dear ones at home to take back with her. Christmas at home! A great wave of joy went over her. And she knew just what she meant to get. She had thought it all out for each one. She had saved a nice little nest egg from the money Keith had given her for clothes for just that purpose. She went over the items now, in her mind, and decided to stop at the library first and leave her books and not have to carry them about the stores with her. It was late, of course, and she must hurry. She glanced at her watch, four o’clock! Perhaps she better go to the shops first.

  Shopping is more expeditious when one knows beforehand just what one wants, and Sherrill had spent some happy moments several times during the past three weeks looking at and pricing her gifts. She went straight to the spot and got through it in short order and then wended her way through the late afternoon traffic.

  But suddenly out of the crowd of Fifth Avenue, there loomed up the tall, attractive form of Barney Fennimore, and though Sherrill tried to drop her eyes and not be seen, he greeted her joyously.

  “Do you know, I was just going back to see you,” he said. “I felt I had come away too soon.”

  “Oh,” said Sherrill in a small worried voice, “I was just on my way to the library. You see—I find—I have to go home!”

  “Go home!” echoed the young man with a blackness in his voice. “But I don’t want you to go home.”

  Sherrill laughed; there was something so genuine and friendly in his tone.

  “You haven’t got bad news, have you?” he asked sympathetically.

  “Oh no,” she said joyously, “it’s all good.”

  “When are you going?” he asked, frowning.

  “Tonight!” There was a ring of triumph in her voice.

  “Tonight!” he said it in honest dismay. “And just as I was getting to know that there was such a girl as you! Well, then, you and I need to get busy. May I go with you? And why all these bundles? Where is your car?”

  “Oh, I’m on my feet, and those are just gifts for the folks. I’m on my way to return a couple of books to the library.”

  “Good! That’s a much better place than the house with your ever-present relatives getting in the way. You haven’t answered the most important part of my question yet, whether I may go with you, but I’m going anyway, so it’s all right. I have to have a heart-to-heart talk with you.”

  There was nothing for Sherrill to do but give him a welcoming smile, although she had momentary visions of the Washburn car
driving by, with Carol and Aunt Eloise looking out, watching her.

  But she was presently within the sheltering walls of the stately library, and what did it matter anyway? She was going home. No words of malice that Aunt Eloise could write would ever turn the dear hearts of the home folks against her, and she would not have to bear contempt anymore. Why not be happy?

  When she had returned the books, Barney led her to one of the small reading rooms that happened to be deserted, and put her in a chair, sitting down close enough to talk in low tones and yet be able to watch her face.

  Sherrill was dressed in her knitted silk sports frock, and the merry bands of colored border on the brown of it gave her a vivid setting, as she threw back her fur coat, pulled down the little close brown hat, and listened.

  “Now, when can I come to see you?” demanded the amazing youth.

  A vivid color flashed into Sherrill’s cheek, but she tried to keep her voice steady and cheerful as she replied, “Oh, are you coming to see me? Why, that will be nice. I’m sure my family and all my friends would enjoy knowing you, but it’s a long trip to make a visit.”

  “Not when the girl is you. You see, I’m going to be very plain with you. I’ve fallen for you mighty hard. I think you and I could hit it off pretty well. I don’t see why we should waste any time, if you’re agreeable. I know we haven’t been acquainted long, but what’s that if we know what we want? I was just coming back to hunt you up and ask you if you’d marry me. I like to get things settled after I once make up my mind.”

  Sherrill had turned very white, and her ungloved hand flew up to her throat and caught the string of pearls she was wearing as if they were a lifeline.

  “Oh don’t, please! You mustn’t!” she said earnestly.

  The joy in his face faded suddenly into perplexity and then into blankness. “But why not? Why shouldn’t I ask you? I love you with all my heart, and I’m sure there’s nothing wrong in telling you so. I’d hoped you cared for me, too.”

  “I’m sorry,” faltered Sherrill in consternation, “I never thought of such a thing, of course, and you’ve been awfully kind—but you mustn’t—you really mustn’t!” Nevertheless she would not have been human not to feel a throb of triumph when she remembered her aunt’s words.

  “But why?” demanded Barney again. “Are you engaged to someone else?”

  “Oh no! Not engaged!” said Sherrill, drawing a long breath and trying to be natural, but she still hung on to the pearls.

  Barney eyed her intently. “Not engaged!” he said speculatively. “But—there is somebody! Somebody else?”

  Sherrill’s eyes said yes, but her lips only trembled into a wan little smile.

  She pressed her fingers flutteringly along the beads, and Barney’s eyes followed them hungrily. Such pretty, characterful fingers.

  “Then there is somebody—” he said again slowly, watching her, “and—he gave you those pearls! Am I right?”

  Sherrill started, and the pink telltale color flooded her face happily with a kind of joyous glow.

  “Who is he?” asked the disappointed Barney. “Is he rich? Is he good looking? Would I stand a chance of cutting him out if I tried?”

  “You wouldn’t try,” said Sherrill firmly. “You’re too fine for that!”

  “The dickens I am!” said the youth under his breath.

  “And you couldn’t if you did,” she finished softly.

  “Really?” he said, and studied her face. “Is it that far?”

  “It isn’t far at all,” said Sherrill. “We’ve never talked about such things. We’ve just been comrades always, since we were little—no he’s not rich, he doesn’t resemble a movie star, but he’s rather wonderful, too, in quite another way—but—he belongs to my world—”

  “And I don’t, you think,” the young man finished sadly. “But listen here. I’d decided to go into this thing and try to please you. Wouldn’t you like to take me and reform me and make something real out of me?”

  “I couldn’t do that,” said Sherrill earnestly. “Only the Lord Jesus could do that, and if you really wanted to take Him into your life, you wouldn’t let it depend on whether I was around or not. You would take Him anyway, above all the world. And it wouldn’t be genuine if you did it to please me.”

  “So!” said Barney Fennimore, suddenly realizing that here was something in his pampered life that he couldn’t have and money couldn’t buy. Then suddenly he drew out from his pocket a little white box, and took from it a blue velvet case.

  “I want to show you what I bought for you today,” he said. “At least I can show it to you.”

  He sprung open the case and there gleamed the most gorgeous diamond that Sherrill had ever looked upon, set in a hoop of emeralds.

  “Oh!” she said tenderly, sadly, as if she had looked upon the death of something sweet and tender.

  He watched her a moment eagerly, his hungry look appearing again, and then a sternness seemed to settle about his cheerful features.

  “And you won’t wear it?” he asked sadly.

  “I couldn’t,” she said.

  He snapped the case shut and stuffed it in his pocket, out of sight.

  “You’re real!” he said. “You’re the dearest thing that ever happened.” And suddenly he put his firm, well-kept hand drawn over her small one and gave her a quick, close clasp like a long farewell. “If I had a girl like you I might amount to something.”

  “You will,” said Sherrill quickly. “I hope you’ll give your splendid self to Christ, and he’ll find the right girl for you—someday. Keep the ring till you find her, and tell her I’m glad for her when she gets it!”

  He looked at her tenderly, with his heart in his eyes, for a moment more, and then he took his hand away from hers with a gesture of finality.

  “I will,” he promised. “And I won’t forget all you’ve tried to teach me. Perhaps I’ll potter around and find out what it all means after all, someday. I wouldn’t expect to get into quite the same heaven as you, of course, but I’d like to be where I could see you sometimes. Say, would you mind if I run down sometime later and just see if you’re still wearing those pearls?”

  “Oh no,” said Sherrill with tears in her voice. “Oh no! I’ll be glad to see you—and introduce you—to my friends—but I think—I’m sure, I’ll be—still wearing them.”

  “You sweet child!” said the young man with a sigh, and arising, he helped her on with her coat. The incident was ended.

  It was quite dark when they got out into the street, and Sherrill began to be afraid she would not get home before her aunt arrived and so would have to encounter her in the hall.

  Barney called a taxi, took her to the door, and bade her good-bye gravely. They did not talk much on the way. But his handclasp at the parting was heartening and reassuring.

  She was relieved when she got into the house to find that her aunt had not returned, but she had scarcely reached her room before she heard the querulous voices of her aunt and cousin hurrying up the stairs. She waited quietly in her room, expecting a summons, but presently she heard the sound of their going away again. Morton carrying out bag and suitcases and Maida hurrying along with wraps. They were going without saying a word to her! Had Maida told her mistress that her trunk had gone to the station? Well, whatever they knew, she was being punished. She was being left behind like a naughty child with no apology. But, it didn’t matter now. It made it all the easier to leave. Of course, if her uncle had been at home, things couldn’t have happened in just this way, but she would write him a nice note and leave it where he would see it, perhaps in his dressing room. She would say she felt she must go, and thank him for his kindness, and never let him suspect how she had been treated in his house.

  She sat down at the desk and began to write, but suddenly she thought she heard slow steps coming up the stairs, hesitating steps, coming up a little way and then stopping, as if to rest. It couldn’t be her aunt had returned! It couldn’t be the butler, for she had
heard him go back to the kitchen. She tiptoed over to the door and opened it a crack to look down the hall, and then she saw her uncle coming up the stairs with such a strange look on his face that it frightened her. His face was white as a sheet, and his eyes were filled like dark coals burning. He stared around but did not seem to see anything. He clutched the handrail and reeled and tottered. Could he be drunk? Oh no, he had a more ethereal look, like one suddenly stricken with some terrible illness.

  As she stood there, he shuffled his way slowly to his dressing room door and opened it. He almost fell as he went in, and he left the door open behind him.

  “Uncle Weston!” she called, and stared after him in alarm. “Uncle Weston! Has something happened? Are you sick?”

  Chapter 19

  She hurried to his door and saw him lying across his big leather couch, as if he had fallen. He must have hit his head against the wall.

  “Uncle Weston,” she called again, “you are sick!”

  “Yes—” he mumbled, “sick! sick! That’s it! Couldn’t think what it was.”

  “Oh, shall I get someone? Do you want me to send for Aunt Eloise?”

  The man on the couch laughed a strange, weird cackle. “Oh, by all means, send for Eloise! She’d be so much use—”

  “Uncle, you need a doctor!” said Sherrill, frightened.

  “Yes! Doctor. That’s it. Get a doctor.”

  Sherrill turned and fled down the hall to call one of the servants, but to her amazement no one answered the bells. Even the butler had disappeared. The master and mistress were out, and they had gone out also, every one of them. Or if they had not gone out, at least they did not care to hear a call to service. Frantically she rushed to the telephone. What should she do? She had no knowledge of the family physician, his name or number. But it was evident that there was a great immediate need.

  She called the operator.

  “Get me a doctor quick, please. The nearest one to this number. This is an emergency call, a very sick man and I’m a stranger in the city!” She gave the street and number, and hanging up, rushed back to her uncle. He was moaning now, and tossing, as if in pain, moving his head from side to side. She went to him and laid her hand upon his hot head, but he only moaned and shrank away from her. Then she heard the telephone ring and ring, and ran to answer it, praying that help might come quickly from somewhere.