Free The Beloved Stranger by Grace Livingston Hill Page A

the stairs, but I’ll go with you, of course.”
    “No, please, if you are willing to trust me, I think I can handle this without you. You have been taking an awful beating, and this is just one thing you don’t need to do. Just give me the full names, all three. Here, write them on the card so I won’t make a mistake, and then you stay right here and don’t worry! If I need you, I’ll come for you.”
    He gave her a reassuring smile and was gone. Sherrill found she was trembling from head to foot, her lips trembling, too. She put up an unsteady hand to cover them. Oh, she must not give way! She must snap out of this. She must not remember yesterday when she went joyously to get that license—and how her beautiful romance was all turned to dust and ashes!
    Just then the three elderly Markham sisters hovered in sight, moving in a body, fairly bristling with question marks and exclamation points, and she had plenty to do again baffling them, with no Copeland there beside her to help.
    But blessed Aunt Pat turned in to help and soon had drawn the attention of all three.
    “And this other bride,” said the eldest sister, Matilda by name, leveling her gaze on Arla as if she were a museum piece and then bringing it back to Aunt Pat’s face again. “Did you say she was a relative, too? A close relative?”
    “Yes, in a way,” said Aunt Pat grimly, “but not so close. Quite distant, in fact. It’s on the Adams side of the family, you know.”
    Sherrill gasped softly and almost gave a hysterical giggle, just catching herself in time.
    “Indeed!” said Miss Markham, giving the bride another glance. “I wasn’t aware there were Adamses in your family. Then she’s not a Catherwood?”
    “Oh no!” said Aunt Pat with pursed lips. “In fact”—and her voice sounded almost like a chuckle—“the relationship was several generations back.”
    “Ohh!” sighed the inquisitor, lowering her lorgnette and losing interest. “Well, she seems to be quite attractive anyway.”
    “Yes, isn’t she? Now let me introduce you—”
    But suddenly Sherrill saw Copeland coming toward her, and her eyes sought his anxiously.
    “You must be desperately tired,” he said in a low tone as he stepped into the line beside her. “Couldn’t we run away outside for just a minute and get you into the open air?”
    “Oh yes!” said Sherrill gratefully. “Come through here.”
    She led him to the long french window just behind the line, open to the garden terrace, and they stepped out and went down the walk, where pale moonlight from a young moon was just beginning to make itself felt.
    “It’s all right,” he assured her comfortingly, drawing her arm within his own. “He’ll be here shortly with all his paper and things. He didn’t want to do it at first, but finally snapped at the bait I offered him and promised to be here within the hour. Now, had you thought where we can take him?”
    “Yes,” said Sherrill, “up in that little room where you dressed. That is quite out of the way of all guests and”—she stopped short in the walk and looked up at her escort with troubled eyes—“we’ll have to tell them—the bride and groom—won’t we?” Her gaze turned back toward the house anxiously. He could see how she was dreading the ordeal.
    “Not yet,” he said quickly, “not till our man comes. Then I’ll just give the tip to the best man to ask them to come upstairs. You leave that to me. I’ll attend to it all. You’ve had enough worry.”
    “You are so kind!” she murmured, beginning to walk along by his side again.
    He laid his hand gently over hers that rested on his arm.
    “I’m glad if I can help. And by the way, I told this Mr.
    Becker to come to the side entrance and ask for me, and I took the liberty of asking the butler to keep an eye out for him and let me know at once.”
    “Oh, thank you,” she said. “I don’t know what I should have done without you!”
    “I am honored to be allowed to