The polished boots of that good young man trod upon roses rather than granite, as he ambled down Pall Mall; for, by means of those trifles which make the sum of human things, he had achieved a great and almost unhoped-for success—he had succeeded in establishing a private understanding with the young and beautiful wife of the millionaire!
CHAPTER XXXII.—A GLIMPSE AT THE GREEN-EYED MONSTER.
Having consoled himself by a canter in Rotten Row, for the minor martyrdom he had undergone in his pursuit of the fine-arts, as misrepresented by the Amalgamated Amateurs, Harry made the best of his way to Park Lane. As he entered, a note was handed to him by the pompous butler, who took the opportunity to inform him, in a voice husky with the bee’s-wing, from which his throat was never entirely free, that “dinner would be served in a quarter of an hour.”—“Then I’ve no time to lose,” was the reply, and without looking at the note, Harry dashed up stairs, three steps at a time. On reaching his room, however, and finding that Alice’s toilet was by no means in an alarming state of forwardness, he recovered his composure, and opened the note; it ran as follows:—
“On my arrival here two hours ago, I was surprised and embarrassed by hearing that you and your bride are staying in the house. Had I been aware of this fact, I need scarcely tell you I would have delayed making my appearance until your visit should have ended. But, although I knew you had married a connection of Mrs. Crane, such a probability never occurred to me. However, it was not likely that, mixing in the same grade of society, we should pass through life without ever again encountering each other; and I am still weak enough to dread our first meeting, and to wish it over. I know your generous nature, and feel the utmost confidence that the past will remain a secret between us. It will, perhaps, be better—easier for us both, not to pretend to meet as strangers. An accidental travelling acquaintance will sufficiently account for our knowing the same places, people, &c. For your own sake, as well as mine.
“I implore you to be careful—I have never forgotten your advice, and have striven to act upon it—but mine is a rebellious nature. Destroy this note as soon as you have read it.
“Arabella.”
With stern compressed lips and knitted brow, Harry perused this mysterious epistle, and when he had finished it, crushed it in his hand and threw it on the fire with a gesture of impatience.
“Your letter does not seem to please you,” observed Alice; “does it come from a dun, or is there a screw loose (don’t I get on with my slang!) in the stable or the kennel?”