While he talked, he had been carving cold beef, and Ralph who at the best of times was a small supper eater, and had never felt less inclined for a meal, found himself forced to begin whether he would or not.
“Here’s a salad that I mixed this afternoon after Sydney Smith’s own receipt,” said Macneillie. “It would be sudden death to most men of this generation close upon midnight but it’s the reward of hard work to acquire the digestion of the ostrich and to sleep the sleep of the righteous.”
He talked on much in the way he had talked long ago in the Pass of Leny when he had helped Ralph along the road to Kilmahog; it was the sort of conversation which did not demand much response, but never failed to hold the hearer’s attention, because it was racy and humourous. But by and bye when they had lighted their pipes, he reverted to Sir Matthew’s visit.
“Curious man, that ex-guardian of yours,” he said musingly. “I am not surprised that you two never hit it off. I wonder what it was that drove little Miss Ewart to take such a decided step.”
“I am certain it was some question of marriage,” said Ralph. “Probably he wanted that brute Wylie to have the control of her fortune. I have always detested that man. Governor! What am I to do? Will you spare me for a week and let me see if I can help her?”
“No, my dear boy, I will not do anything of the sort,” said Macneillie resolutely, yet with a most kindly look in his eyes. “I know it’s a hard thing for you to stay here and go on with your work as if nothing had happened, and while all the time you are sick with anxiety, but it’s what we all of us have to put up with now and again. Besides, you could do no good and you might do great harm. Those who know Miss Ewart best are the ones who ought to have most confidence in her womanly wisdom. Depend upon it she is perfectly safe. Such a quiet, well-bred girl as that might go alone unharmed from one end of Europe to the other.”
Ralph pushed back his chair and paced the room restlessly. “The suspense is the intolerable part of it,” he said, with a break in his voice.
“I have good reason to know how hard suspense is to bear,” said Macneillie. “And yet it’s not the worst, for there’s always a large mixture of hope in it. Come let us write out your telegram to the Herefords, it will need careful wording.”
The next day was Sunday, but the telegraph office was open for two hours in the morning, and upon the stroke of eight Ralph stood at the door with his message to Ireland. He returned again between half past nine and ten and waited drearily in the office for the reply. But the deep bell of the cathedral boomed out the hour and still no answer came.
“Open again between five and six, sir,” said the official, showing him to the door. And Ralph, miserably depressed, made his way to the cathedral. Here for a time he found comfort; but during the psalms the verger ushered a late-comer into the stall exactly facing him. He saw at a glance that it was Sir Matthew, and after that there was no more peace for him, but a dire struggle with his angry heart.