On my return to my quarters at Brown's I looked at the top of my bureau. It was empty. My friend Dandridge had proved faithful. The slipper of the baroness was gone! So now, hurriedly, I began my toilet for that occasion which to any gentleman should be the one most exacting, the most important of his life's events.
Elisabeth deserved better than this unseemly haste. Her sweetness and dignity, her adherence to the forms of life, her acquaintance with the elegancies, the dignities and conventions of the best of our society, bespoke for her ceremony more suited to her class and mine. Nothing could excuse these hurly burly ways save only my love, our uncertainty regarding my future presence, and the imperious quality of my duties.
I told none about my quarters anything of my plans, but arranged for my portmanteaus to be sent to the railway station for that evening's train north. We had not many outgoing and incoming trains in those days in Washington. I hurried to Bond's jewelry place and secured a ring—two rings, indeed; for, in our haste, betrothal and wedding ring needed their first use at the same day and hour. I found a waiting carriage which served my purpose, and into it I flung, urging the driver to carry me at top speed into Elmhurst road. Having now time for breath, I sat back and consulted my watch. There were a few moments left for me to compose myself. If all went well, I should be in time.
As we swung down the road I leaned forward, studying with interest the dust cloud of an approaching carriage. As it came near, I called to my driver. The two vehicles paused almost wheel to wheel. It was my friend Jack Dandridge who sprawled on the rear seat of the carriage! That is to say, the fleshly portion of Jack Dandridge. His mind, his memory, and all else, were gone.
I sprang into his carriage and caught him roughly by the arm. I felt in all his pockets, looked on the carriage floor, on the seat, and pulled up the dust rug. At last I found the license.
"Did you see the baroness?" I asked, then.
At this he beamed upon me with a wide smile.
"Did I?" said he, with gravity pulling down his long buff waistcoat. "Did I? Mos' admi'ble woman in all the worl'! Of course, Miss 'Lis'beth Churchill also mos' admi'ble woman in the worl'," he added politely, "but I didn't see her. Many, many congrash'lations. Mos' admi'ble girl in worl'—whichever girl she is! I want do what's right!"
The sudden sweat broke out upon my forehead. "Tell me, what have you done with the slipper!"
He shook his head sadly. "Mishtaken, my friend! I gave mos' admi'ble slipper in the worl', just ash you said, just as baroness said, to Mish Elisabeth Churchill—mos' admi'ble woman in the worl'! Proud congrash'late you both, m' friend!"
"Did you see her?" I gasped. "Did you see her father—any of her family?"
"God blesh me, no!" rejoined this young statesman. "Feelings delicacy prevented. Realized having had three—four—five—Barn Burners; washn't in fit condition to approach family mansion. Alwaysh mos' delicate. Felt m'self no condition shtan' up bes' man to mosh admi'ble man and mosh admi'ble girl in worl'. Sent packazh in by servant, from gate—turned round—drove off—found you. Lo, th' bridegroom cometh! Li'l late!"
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