‘To this end, I called upon him this morning,’ said Nicholas. ‘He only returned to town on Saturday, and I knew nothing of his arrival until late last night.’
‘And did you see him?’ asked Miss La Creevy.
‘No,’ replied Nicholas. ‘He had gone out.’
‘Hah!’ said Miss La Creevy; ‘on some kind, charitable business, I dare say.’
‘I have reason to believe,’ pursued Nicholas, ‘from what has been told me, by a friend of mine who is acquainted with his movements, that he intends seeing my mother and sister today, and giving them his version of the occurrences that have befallen me. I will meet him there.’
‘That’s right,’ said Miss La Creevy, rubbing her hands. ‘And yet, I don’t know,’ she added, ‘there is much to be thought of—others to be considered.’
‘I have considered others,’ rejoined Nicholas; ‘but as honesty and honour are both at issue, nothing shall deter me.’
‘You should know best,’ said Miss La Creevy.
‘In this case I hope so,’ answered Nicholas. ‘And all I want you to do for me, is, to prepare them for my coming. They think me a long way off, and if I went wholly unexpected, I should frighten them. If you can spare time to tell them that you have seen me, and that I shall be with them in a quarter of an hour afterwards, you will do me a great service.’
‘I wish I could do you, or any of you, a greater,’ said Miss La Creevy; ‘but the power to serve, is as seldom joined with the will, as the will is with the power, I think.’