The White Room

by Fergus Hume

The conversation with Jasher put a different complexion on the affair. According to the professor's man of business, who certainly must know what he was talking about, Bocaros was a baron, and was likely to come in for money. It was true that no details had been given, but the mere hint was sufficient for Emily. She at once decided to encourage the professor instead of snubbing him, and to this end, having dressed herself in her best things, she went to pay a visit shortly after five o'clock, an hour when she knew Bocaros would be within.

The professor was seated over a small fire, staring darkly into its red heart, with folded arms. Outside, the twilight was darkening to night and the wind was rising. But Bocaros did not pay any attention to the doings of nature. He was wrapped up in the contemplation of his own troubles. Already he had finished his frugal meal and had put away the dishes as was his custom. Usually, having lighted his big pipe, he would read, but on this evening the book lay unopened and the pipe was laid aside. He began to feel keenly his poverty now that he was in love. There seemed to be no chance of his marrying Emily, and so far as he could see, unless he could bend his pride to accept money from Calvert he would have to pass the rest of his days in that damp house until too old to earn his bread. Then the wolf would rush in at the door and drive him to the workhouse. No wonder the poor man was angered by the good fortune of Arnold.

When a sharp knock came to the door, Bocaros, wrapped in his gloomy thoughts, took no notice. Again came the knock in a still more peremptory manner. This time he heard, and wondering who was calling on such a recluse as himself, he went to the door. Here he expected to find Tracey or Mrs. Baldwin, who were the only people who ever came to the dull little house in the fields. But when he saw Emily fashionably arrayed, smirking at the door and flashing her great eyes on him, the poor man was so amazed that he fell back a step and gasped.

"I hope I'm not unwelcome," said Miss Doon, with dignity.

"Ah, my dear young lady, enter my humble home," gasped the professor, wondering if this was all "a beautiful dream. How can you think but what I am honoured far beyond my worth."

"The foreign style of compliment," simpered Emily entering, "is what I would expect from one of the nobility."

"Bocaros did not hear. He conducted her to the study and made her sit in the big armchair. Then he heaped on coals and wood in reckless profusion, and volunteered to make his fair visitor a cup of tea.

"The English love tea," said the professor, hastening to the kitchen. "In a moment you shall have some, mademoiselle."

"How sweet," sighed Emily, who liked the foreign title. But when alone she cast her eyes round the room, and mentally decided that Bocaros was even harder up than she expected to find him. Emily was a shrewd girl where her vanity was not concerned, and had no notion of throwing herself away. Unless she knew for certain that Bocaros was a baron and that the money would really come to him, she decided that she would never permit him to make her his wife. She was fond of fine dress, in which her wages did not permit her to indulge. Already she was in debt, and should the professor propose she knew not how she would be able to get a trousseau together worthy of the occasion. "But I can get Fanny to help," thought the astute Emily. Fanny was Mrs. Varney. "She will do anything when she hears I have decided to marry a foreign nobleman like Count Fosco in the Woman in White!" which comparison was rather hard on the guileless Bocaros.

Shortly he returned with a cup of tea. Emily accepted the attention graciously. But the tea was inferior, the china was thick, so she made a wry face and drank very little of the comforting beverage. The professor did not notice her distaste. He closed the window, drew the threadbare curtains and lighted the lamp. Having made the room as comfortable as was possible he sat down and poked the fire into a brighter blaze, then smiled cheerfully at Miss Doon. She was secretly amazed at the result produced by her visit in the man's looks. He appeared to be years younger--there was a colour in his face, a softer light in his aggressive eyes, and his demeanour was almost gay. She thought that if he were better dressed and had more flesh on his poor bones, he might be a handsome man after a sort. She might do worse than marry him, always presuming that he really had a title, and was possessed--in the near future--of money.