_ CHAPTER XXXIII. THE SCARLET FEATHER
Netty entered the room presently, and greeted her mother with a warmth of emotion beyond the usual. Dick took advantage of her coming to excuse himself for a little while. He had promised Dora immediate information concerning his mother's coming, and he was now all eagerness to tell her of the new happiness in his home. He had telephoned for a hansom, and the drive through the Park to the colonel's was quickly accomplished. Soon, the girl he loved was a sharer in his joy over the reunion of father and mother.
After a time, there came a lapse into silence, when the first subject had been gone over with fond thoroughness. It was broken by Dora:
"Do you know, Dick," she remarked, "that I shall be hard put to it to live up to you? You are such a hero!"
"Pooh! Nonsense!" the lover exclaimed, in much confusion.
But Dora shook her head, solemnly.
"It is a fact," she declared, "and all the world knows it. If I didn't love you to distraction, I could never endure the way in which father raves about you. And he says, your brother officers are to give a dinner in your honor, and--"
"Good heavens!" Dick muttered, in consternation.
"--and they are going to club on a silver service for a wedding present. Isn't that lovely?"
"Oh, yes, I suppose so," Dick conceded. "But just think--if they should expect me to make a speech at the dinner! Good lord!"
Dora opened her clear, gray eyes wide:
"Why, Dick!" she remonstrated. "You don't mean to tell me that you would show the white feather, just at the idea of making some response to a toast in your honor?"
"I never made a speech in my life," the lover answered, shamefacedly; "and I am frightened nearly out of my wits at the bare idea of being called on.... But you spoke of the white feather, dearest. I never told you that my miserable enemy, Ormsby, sent me one."
"What? He dared?" Dora sat erect, and her eyes flashed in a sudden wrath. "Tell me about it, Dick."
The story was soon related, and the girl's indignation against his whilom rival filled him with delight.
"The odd thing about it all was," he went on, "that I carried that white feather with me. I had a feeling, somehow, that it would serve as a talisman. And, perhaps, it did. Anyhow, I lived through the experience. One thing I know for a certainty. While my memory of the white feather lasted, I could never be a coward of the sort Ormsby meant."
"Oh, Dick," Dora cried, "have you the feather still?"
"Yes, indeed," was the smiling answer. "You see, I got into the habit of keeping it by me."
"But you haven't it with you, now?" The girl's eyes were very wistful. To her imagination, there was a potent charm in this lying symbol, which had been the companion of the man whom she adored.
"Oh, yes, I have it," Dick replied, carelessly. He reached a hand into an inner pocket of his waistcoat, and brought forth the feather, which he held out to the girl.
She accepted it reverently, but an expression of dissatisfaction showed on her face.
"It--it isn't exactly a white feather now," she suggested. "It is really quite shockingly dirty. But I shall have it cleaned, and then set in a case or a frame of gold, decorated with--"
Dick interrupted, somewhat indignantly.
"You can't expect a man living for months in the way I did to keep a white feather immaculate. And, anyhow, it is not so very dirty. Besides, I couldn't help the blood--could I?"
"The blood!" Dora exclaimed, startled, and her face whitened. "What blood, Dick?"
"Mine. You see, it lay right alongside the place where that bullet scraped my side."
"Your blood!" The girl's face was wonderfully alight. "And I said that I would have it cleaned. Why, the idea seems sacrilege! No, this feather shall never be cleaned from those precious stains, sweetheart. The white feather--and now it is scarlet with the blood of my hero. Ah, this scarlet feather shall be set in purest gold, and bordered with jewels. It shall be a shrine for my worship, Dick. And--"
The lover, who had taken her into his arms, bent his head suddenly, and kissed her to silence.
[THE END]
Houghton Townley's Book: Scarlet Feather
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