“That’s because you haven’t seen Una Rolfe,” put in Jack, coolly. “But I say, Len, what has come to us? We’ve both caught the universal epidemic at the same time. It’s nothing wonderful in me, you know—but you—you, who wouldn’t look at a woman! Have you got it bad, Len?”
“Very bad, Jack. Yes, the time which Rosseau calls the supremest in one’s life, has come to me. As a novice in the art of love-making, I come to you for advice.”
“Why, it’s easy enough in your case. You know where to put your hand upon the lady. What are you to do? Why, disguise yourself as a sweep, and go and sweep the chimneys at 24 Cheltenham Square, or pretend you’re the tax collector, or ‘come to look at the gas meter.’ You’ve got half a dozen plans, but I—what am I to do? I’ve seen the most beautiful creature in existence, and if I’m not in love with her——”
“I should say you were,” said Leonard, gently.
“Yes, I am. I knew it when I found that confounded cottage empty. But what am I to do? I haven’t the faintest clew to her whereabouts. The old gentleman with the hatchet may have murdered his whole family—her included—or emigrated to Australia.”
“It is very strange. Didn’t you notice any sign of a move about the place the first night you were there?”
“No, none. Everything looked as if it had been going on for a hundred years—excepting Una—and meant to go on for another hundred. Len, I’m afraid we’ve been bewitched. Perhaps it’s all a dream; I haven’t been down to Hurst and you haven’t been down to Wermesley. We shall wake up directly—oh, no! The poor squire! Len, it’s all true, and we’re a couple of young fools!”
“Speak for yourself, old fellow. I have been a fool until three days ago, now I am as wise as Solomon, for I have learned what love is.”
“So have I—I have also learned the vanity of human wishes, and the next thing I shall have to learn will be some way of earning a livelihood. I should prefer an honest one, but—poor men can’t afford to be particular, and honesty doesn’t seem to pay now-a-days. I feel so hard up and reckless that I could become a bank director or a member of Parliament without feeling a pang of conscience.”
Leonard looked up at him, for the vein of bitterness was plainly to be detected running through Jack’s banter; and Leonard knew that when Jack was bitter—which was but once a year, say—he was reckless.