"I have noticed it," said Celia, reluctantly. "I have only seen him once or twice. I—I agree with you partly, and I don't think he's a good man."
"Good man!" retorted Reggie, with a laugh of derision. "You take it from me that he's as bad as they make 'em. It's my belief that he's done something already—something he's ashamed of; something he's afraid may be found out. Oh, laugh if you like; but, look here, Miss Grant, you take my advice and keep clear of that man."
"I mean to," said Celia, as lightly as she could. "And so, as he's in the front of the house, I'm going in at this side door. Good-bye; I'll write to you."
Reggie walked on towards the Grange, and as he approached Susie's cottage, his step grew slow, so slow that, when he came to the gate, he almost stopped; and his eyes searched the door and the window eagerly; but he was not rewarded by a sight of the sad, pretty face which had moved him so deeply.
CHAPTER XVII
To return to Derrick Dene. When Isabel had left the van he lay, with a frown on his face, thinking sadly and troubled by a somewhat unreasonable remorse. He was not a vain man, but he knew that, all unwittingly, he had gained the love of this dark-browed, passionate girl. She was very beautiful; she had nursed him with the tenderness of a sister, a mother, a wife. Why should he not accept the gift which the gods were offering him? Why should he not make her his wife? Even as he put the question, the answer rose to confront him. He was in love with another woman, a girl he had seen once or twice only in his life—the girl at Brown's Buildings.
It was absurd, of course. He might never meet her again; it was more than probable that by this time some other man had discovered so great a prize; she might be engaged, married. The chances were that, though he had thought of her every day since he had left her, she had well-nigh forgotten him, or, at the best, thought of him as a foolish young man who had sacrificed himself for a mistaken sense of chivalry, the man whom she, a slip of a girl, had saved from suicide. Why, he told himself, any feeling she must have for him must be that of contempt. All the same, he loved her, and therefore this other woman could be nothing to him.
The doctor and Mr. Bloxford came to see him; Bloxford full of impish delight and satisfaction at Derrick's recovery, and full also of threats of what he, Bloxford, would do if ever he came across the cause of Derrick's "accident."
An hour later Derrick had another visitor. It was Sidcup. Derrick liked the man; for, notwithstanding his harmless vanity, he was a decent sort, and the courage he displayed in his performance won Derrick's admiration. Sidcup came in and stood beside the bunk, and looked down at Derrick with a grim countenance, and he did not offer to shake hands.