“Come, come, be frank with me; your secret, if it be one to visit that place, is safe with me. What leads you to believe I am destined to evil fortune?”
“I know nothing of you! I want to know nothing,” said the old man, rudely, and turned to his books.
“Well, if your skill in prophecy be not greater than in politeness, I need not fret about you,” said Calvert laughing; and he went his way.
With that superstitious terror that tyrannises over the minds of incredulous men weighing heavily on his heart, he drove back to Orta. All his winnings of the night before could not erase from lus memory the dark words of the old man’s prediction. He tried to forget, and then he tried to ridicule it “So easy,” thought he, “for that old withered mummy to cast a shadow on the path of a fellow full of life, vigour, and energy, like myself. He has but to stand one second in my sunshine! It is, besides, the compensation that age and decrepitude exact for being no longer available for the triumphs and pleasures of life.” Such were the sort of reasonings by which he sought to console himself, and then he set to plan out a future—all the things that he could, or might, or could not do.
Just as he drove into Orta the post arrived at the office, and he got out and entered, as was his wont, to obtain his letters before the public distribution had commenced.
CHAPTER XIV. THE LAST WALK IN THE GARDEN.
THE only letter Calvert found at the post-office for the villa was one in the vicar’s hand, addressed to Miss Grainger. Nothing from Loyd himself, nor any newspaper. So far, then, Loyd had kept his pledge. He awaited to see if Calvert would obey his injunctions before he proceeded to unmask him to his friends.
Calvert did not regard this reserve as anything generous—he set it down simply to fear. He said to himself, “The fellow dreads me; he knows that it is never safe to push men of my stamp to the wall; and he is wise enough to apply the old adage, about leaving a bridge to the retreating enemy. I shall have more difficulty in silencing the women, however. It will be a hard task to muzzle their curiosity; but I must try some plan to effect it. Is that telegram for me?” cried he, as a messenger hastened hither and thither in search for some one.
“II Signor Grainger?”