The Wit and Humor of America, Volume VII | Page 7

lent you the clothes
and cash for the start. There's something doing here, Willie; and I'm all
lit up with excitement."
Presidio, who, of course, had followed the young lady to learn where
she lived, passed the house the next day, the sedatest looking man on
the sedate block. Presently a maid came from the house, gave him a
beckoning nod, and hurried on round the corner. There she slipped him
a note, saying as she walked on, "I was to give you this, Mr.
Carrington."
Presidio took the note to his wife, and she declared for opening it. It
was sealed, and addressed to another person; but to let such an
informality as opening another's letters stand in the way of knowing
what was going on around them would have been foreign to the nature
of Presidio activities. This was the note:
"Dear Porter: Your letters to papa will not be answered. I heard him say
so to mamma, yesterday. He is angry that you wrote to him on the very
day I returned from Europe. He will send me back there if you try to
see me, as you say you will, but dear, even at that cost I must see you

once more. I have never forgotten, never ceased to love; but there is no
hope! A companion accompanies me always, the one you saw in the
restaurant; but the maid who will hand you this is trustworthy, and will
bring me any message you give to her. If you can arrange for a
moment's meeting it will give me something to cherish in my memory
through the remainder of my sad and hopeless life. Only for a moment,
dear.
"Caroline."
Mrs. Presidio wept. Here was romance sadder, and therefore better,
than any she had ever read; better, even, than that in the one-act dramas
which followed their turns on the stage. "Have you ever studied his
writing?" she asked her husband; and, promptly divining her plan, he
replied, "I made a few copies of his signature on the Manila hotel
register. You never know what will turn up." After a pause, he added
eagerly, "Better yet!--there was some of his writing in the overcoat I
borrowed from his rooms."
"Write to her; make an appointment, and have him on hand to keep it."
Here was work right in Presidio's line; his professional pride was fired,
and he wrote with grave application:
"Darling Caroline: Thank you, sweetheart, for words which have kept
me from suicide. Love of my life, I can not live until we meet! But only
for a moment? Nay, for ever and ever!"
"That's beautiful!" declared Mrs. Presidio, looking over Willie's
shoulder. He continued:
"I shall hand this to your maid; but you must not meet me there; it
would be too dangerous. Leave your house one-half hour after
receiving this, and go around the corner where you will see a lady, a
relative of mine, who will drive with you to a safe tryst. Trust her, and
heaven speed the hour! With undying love. Porter."
This was all written in a good imitation of Carrington's rather unusual

handwriting, and approved by Mrs. Presidio; who, however, thought
there should be some reference to the young lady's home as a beetled
tower, and to her father as several things which Presidio feared might
not be esteemed polite in the social plane they were operating in. He
passed the house the next day, and the maid soon appeared. He learned
from her that her mistress's companion was not at home; and then,
hopeful because of this opportune absence, hurried off, leaving Mrs.
Presidio round the corner in a carriage. He went to a club where, he had
ascertained, Carrington usually was at that hour, and sent in the card of
"M. Courvatal," on which he wrote, "Presidio." Carrington came out to
him at once. "My dear Mr. Presidio, this is so kind of you," he said,
regarding his caller with interest. "We've not met since Manila. I hope
Mrs. Presidio is well, and that your professional engagements prosper. I
went to see you perform last night, and was delighted."
"Thank you," the caller said, much pleased with this reception. "I'll be
sending the balance of my little debt to you as soon as the wife has her
dressmaking bills settled."
"Pray do not incommode the wife. The amount you have already sent
was a pleasant--surprise. Can I be of any service to you to-day?"
"Well, it's like this, Mr. Carrington: I have an appointment for you this
afternoon."
"For me?"
"With Miss Caroline Curtis."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't be offended, sir. Come with me, and see what you'll see. If I try
any game, pitch into me, that's all."
The man's manner was now so earnest that