Arthur Spencer’s journey to meet his friend had not turned out exactly as he had intended. He had hurried across France to Marseilles because there was a sort of relief to his misery in the rapid motion; and, besides, he was not quite certain when Captain Seton’s ship would arrive. He was prepared to do anything that his friend might fancy; returning to England or continuing his journey, as might be best for Captain Seton’s health, as to which he did not grow very anxious till he was preparing to enquire for him on board the ship; when the possibility of finding him worse, in danger, or not finding him at all, occurred to him. Then it seemed to poor Arthur as if the only comfort in his trouble would be the telling it to his land, warm-hearted friend who had left India too soon to receive even the letter announcing his engagement. Nevertheless, Arthur resolved that if Seton seemed ill and depressed he would prepare a cheerful countenance and keep silence on his own score for the present.
As he came on board and was looking anxiously round, he was greeted with a shout of delight; and Captain Seton, looking neither ill nor unhappy, seized him by the hands.
“So there you are, my dear good fellow! I’m heartily glad to see you. I knew you would come if you could; but I feel as if I’d brought you out on false pretences after all.”
“So much the better, if this is what being on sick-leave comes to,” said Arthur. “I was very glad to come.”
“Oh, it was no pretence at the beginning; but the voyage has made another man of me—and—and—let me introduce you to my friends—a—very kind companions on board ship, you know. Mrs Raymond, Mr Arthur Spencer—a—Miss Raymond.”
One glance from his friend’s confused yet joyous countenance to the blushing and smiling young lady revealed to Arthur the state of affairs at once; and, after a few words had been exchanged, Captain Seton drew him aside, and informed him how Mrs Raymond, being in bad health, was returning to spend a year in England with her daughter, who had miraculously spent eighteen months in India without getting married; and how he, having met the young lady twice before, and knowing how charming she was—
“Exactly so,” interposed Arthur, “you don’t feel inclined now for a tour in Italy.”
“No,” Captain Seton apologised and laughed and explained; but he wanted to escort his lady-love to England, to settle his affairs, and to be introduced to various Raymond relations. Perhaps afterwards—
Arthur listened, smiled, and congratulated him, and managed to escape without any questions on his own affairs from his preoccupied friend. He went back to his room at the hotel, and sat down, feeling as if he had lost his one remaining object, and as if the future were an entire blank. He was almost inclined to go away without seeing Seton again. “But no,” he thought, “that would be an unkind, melodramatic sort of proceeding, and he would reproach himself for having given me pain—it would spoil his pleasure.”
So Arthur, feeling that he could not speak of what must come out sooner or later, wrote a note, and told his story in a few brief words. He had been engaged to Miss Crofton, whom, no doubt, Seton remembered, and she was dead. He had come away for rest and change.