“My mother sees eye to eye with me in this. I have brought you a letter from her. She knows all about you, and admires your devotion, as you will see. Now, my dear Eva, I should like to see you. This room is nearly pitch dark, and, by Jove!—what a room it is! But apparently your old landlady thinks no end of it; she has been sitting here part of the time to keep me company, and has told me the price of every single piece of furniture. She also told me, what interests me far more, that she is very fond of you, and what was a shock—that she does not think you are long for this world! Now call a fellow to bring lamps; I should like to be able to judge for myself!”
In two or three minutes our factotum staggered in with a lamp in each hand. As soon as he had hung one on the wall, placed the other on the round table, and enjoyed a thoroughly exhaustive stare at Brian, he withdrew.
“Now,” said my companion, “take off your hat.”
As I removed it unquestioningly and faced him in silence, I saw his eyes open, his lips close tightly; there was not the slightest doubt that the awful change in my appearance had administered a shock! I was painfully conscious that of my former prettiness not a trace remained. Brian rose, stick in hand, turned his back upon me, and limped towards the door. Yes, I was a wreck—apparently the sight had been too overwhelming; but surely he was not about to leave me like that? I hurried after him, and discovered that it was merely a manœuvre to conceal his emotion.
“My poor little girl,” he murmured in a broken voice, “every word of the whole terrible story is written in your face.”
He gathered me into his arms, and for once I shed tears of happiness.
CHAPTER XXIX
THE ORDER OF RELEASE
Hospitable Mrs. de Castro gave Brian a pressing invitation to remain to dinner and share “pot luck,” represented, as I happened to know, by brain cutlets and Bombay toast—no fare for an invalid. He was about to accept with effusion, when he caught my swift signal of unqualified horror and murmured a polite excuse. At half-past seven a motor brought his man-servant to escort him to the West End Hotel, and he departed with reluctance, assuring me that he “would be round first thing in the morning.”
“My, but that gentleman do set store by you,” announced Mrs. de Castro, as soon as he was out of sight. “All the questions he asked about your health! I told him as your hair was falling in handsful, enough to stuff a cushion, and you could not abide your food, and your dress bodies were taken in inches round the waist, and the skirts just a-slipping off you. My word, but he was in a way. He says he has come to take you home.”
“Oh no, Mrs. de Castro,” I protested with emphasis. “I shall stay here.”