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<h2>CHAPTER XL.</h2> <h3>STRIKING WHILE THE IRON IS HOT.</h3> As Travers Gladwin skimmed up the stairs to warn Helen of the arrival of her aunt, he was thinking on four sides of his brain at the same time and revolving together so many lightning plans, that the result was a good deal of a jumble. In consequence, he was wild-eyed, out of breath and more than a trifle incoherent when he parted the crimson curtains of the den and precipitately entered. “Your aunt,” he began as he checked his momentum and stopped against a table beside which Miss Burton was seated, “but don’t get up––and don’t be frightened. She need never know. I’ll take the blame for everything. I am the Travers Gladwin you were going to elope with, and I’ll go to jail if necessary.” He paused for breath, while Helen rose from her chair and protested. “Impossible, Mr. Gladwin. I”––– “Nothing of the sort,” the young man stopped her. “It is perfectly possible, and I only wish that I were the man you had chosen to elope with. I’d elope with you now––in a minute––aunt or no aunt.” <div></div> “You must not talk that way,” cried the young girl, her face aflame. “You are only saying this out of politeness, a sense of chivalry, and while I appreciate all you are doing for me I could not accept any such sacrifice.” “Sacrifice!” he retorted, with increasing ardor. “Call it blessing; call it heavenly boon; call it the pinnacle of my desire, the apogee of my hopes––call it anything in the world but sacrifice.” “Oh, you must not talk to me this way!” exclaimed the girl, sinking back into her chair and covering her face with her hands. “But I certainly must,” the young man reeled on. “It is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. It has come upon me like a stroke of lightning––it may not seem reasonable––it may not seem sane. I can’t help that. It is here––inside of me”––– “Stop,” Helen interposed again, her voice faint and tremulous. “You are taking advantage of my helpless situation. Why, you hardly know me!” she added, with a swift change of tone as if she had made a sudden discovery. Taking her hands from her face she looked up at him through widening eyes misty with tears. The young man bit his lip and turned his head away. “Pardon me,” he said bitterly, after a moment’s pause. “I had not thought of it in that light. It does seem as if I were taking advantage of you.” He looked at her steadily a moment until she dropped her eyes. “Can you think I am that sort of a man?” he asked abruptly and the tenseness of his voice made her glance up at him again. Helen made another remarkable discovery––that he had fine eyes and a splendid mouth and nose. “Can you think I am that sort of a man?” he repeated slowly, forcing her to continue to yield her eyes to his earnest regard. “No, no,” Helen returned hastily. “I did not mean it that way––only I cannot quite understand it. You never saw me till a few hours ago, and then––and then I was engaged”––– She paused and shuddered. “But that was a case of hypnotism,” burst out the young man, letting himself go again. “He is a marvelous man. I wish I had half of his strength of will and––and good looks. It is past belief that he is what he is, with all his talents, his appearance and his magnificent courage. If it is in my power the police shall not reach him. “At first my only object was to save you from the dreadful position of becoming the wife of such a man, and also from the scandal that must have followed if your elopement were discovered and he were arrested. But now I must confess that the man compels my admiration, and that I want to see him free for his own sake.” <div></div> “And he is still in the house?” said Helen, anxiously. “Yes, yes, and here comes your aunt. Now, I pray you, let me take the brunt of this storm. I will ask nothing more of you. I am Travers Gladwin and we were to have eloped––do you promise? For here she is.” “Yes,” Helen whispered, and then the storm burst. “So here you are at last, Helen Burton,” came the first roll of thunder from the doorway. It was not as terrifying a rumble as it might have been had not the statuesque and tightly laced Mrs. Burton lost a good deal of breath in coming up the stairs. She came on into the room with tragic step, followed by Whitney Barnes and Sadie, the latter keeping very close to Barnes as if she feared that her cousin would cover her with reproaches for having revealed the secret of the projected elopement. “Calm yourself, madam; calm yourself,” began Travers Gladwin, as he stepped between her and her niece. “And who are you, pray?” asked the majestic woman, haughtily. “I am to blame for it all,” he cried. “I am Travers Gladwin.” “What! You are Travers Gladwin! You are the wretch who sought to steal off in the dead of night with my niece and ward. You! You!” Mrs. Burton looked unutterable threats and maledictions. Travers Gladwin could not resist a smile, which he hid by bowing low and stammering: “I must humbly confess to being myself and plead guilty of the crime of falling passionately in love with your niece. I”––– Helen rose quickly to her feet and confronted her aunt. There was fire in the young girl’s eye as she said: “Aunt Ella, it is all a mistake, this”––– “Now, Helen,” Gladwin turned and took the young girl’s hand, “please let me explain. You promised.” “She promised what?” flared Mrs. Burton. “She foolishly promised to elope with me,” said Gladwin sweetly, “but when she got here and thought of the shock and grief that her dear aunt might suffer she suddenly changed her mind. I had everything arranged––car waiting, parson waiting, marriage license in my pocket, everything! You see madam, I am the only guilty party. Your niece was the innocent victim of my wiles.” Mrs. Burton looked from one to the other in complete bewilderment. Helen could only blush and look confused. The immensity of Gladwin’s lie struck her dumb. Sadie was staring at him in open-mouthed amazement. Even Whitney Barnes blinked his eyes and forgot his handcuffs. Travers Gladwin met Mrs. Burton’s frowning and perplexed stare with a fatuous smile. At last she turned to Whitney Barnes and asked: “Is he telling the truth?” <div class="figtag"> </div> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/p0282a-insert.jpg" alt="" title="" width-obs="411" height-obs="495" /> “HE’S ALMOST AS MADLY IN LOVE WITH HER AS I AM.” </div> <div></div> “Oh, yes,” said Barnes, readily, “and if it hadn’t been for me he might have kidnapped her. He’s almost as madly in love with her as I am––you will have to excuse me a moment, I think I see that man Ryan.” The shackled young man suddenly darted out of the room, followed by Sadie, who seemed irresistibly drawn in his wake. Mrs. Burton looked after them helplessly. A suspicion suddenly flashed in her brain and she turned back to Gladwin. “I feel sure that you are deceiving me,” she charged him, “and that that other young man is Travers Gladwin. You can’t tell me that his wrists were not handcuffed, for I just saw them.” “You are entirely mistaken,” Gladwin returned soberly. “If you will kindly step out into the music room I will show you a modest portrait of myself that was painted three years ago by an eminent American artist. Helen you will pardon us for just a moment,” and he turned with a broad smile that won him a smile in return, for the humor of the situation had gradually beaten down whatever other emotions stirred in the girl’s breast. Like one reluctantly led in a dream, Mrs. Burton allowed Gladwin to escort her into the music room outside and conduct her to a painting that hung in an obscure corner of the room. “Do you think it flatters me?” he asked, as she regarded it dumbly. <div></div> She looked at him curiously and then back at the portrait, then shook her head and muttered: “There’s a mystery here somewhere. You are all banded together in a conspiracy. I do not know whom to believe. But it has gone far enough. We will go back to Omaha to-morrow. I had no idea New York was such a terrible place. Why are all these policemen running about?” “Mainly in your interest,” responded Gladwin quickly, “but if you will consent not to send me to jail I will get them out of the house and keep the unhappy termination of my romance out of the newspapers.” “Of course, it must not get in the newspapers,” cried the horrified Mrs. Burton. “Then, madam, if you will go back to Helen and promise not to be too hard with her I will attend to it.” “Was your father’s name Edwin Gladwin?” asked Mrs. Burton, looking at him with a swift change of expression as he led her back to the room he called his den. “Yes,” said the young man, “but if you will excuse me I will endeavor to get rid of all these policemen.” He suddenly darted from her and descended the stairs. <hr class="toprule" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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