‘I grieve that I have lost time, Miss Mutimer. Important business had taken me from home, and on my return I found a telegram from Wanley. Your brother directs me to wait upon you at once, on a very sad subject, I fear. He instructs me to purchase a grave in Manor Park Cemetery. No near relative, I trust?’
‘No, only a friend,’ Alice replied. ‘You’ve heard me speak of a girl called Emma Vine. It’s a sister of hers. She died this morning, and they want help about the funeral.’
‘Precisely, precisely. You know with what zeal I hasten to perform your’—a slight emphasis on this word—‘brother’s pleasure, be the business what it may. I’ll see about it at once. I was to say to you that your brother would be in town this evening.’
‘Oh, very well. But you needn’t look so gloomy, you know, Mr. Keene. I’m very sorry, but then she’s been ill for a very long time, and it’s really almost a relief—to her sisters, I mean.’
‘I trust you enjoyed your visit to Wanley, Miss Mutimer?’ said Keene, still preserving his very respectful tone and bearing.
‘Oh yes, thanks. I dare say I shall go there again before very long. No doubt you’ll be glad to hear that.’
‘I will try to be, Miss Mutimer. I trust that your pleasure is my first consideration in life.’
Alice was, to speak vulgarly, practising on Mr. Keene. He was her first visitor since she had entered upon rule, and she had a double satisfaction in subduing him with airs and graces. She did not trouble to reflect that under the circumstances he might think her rather heartless, and indeed hypocrisy was not one of her failings. Her naivete constituted such charm as she possessed; in the absence of any deep qualities it might be deemed a virtue, for it was inconsistent with serious deception.
‘I suppose you mean you’d really much rather I stayed here?’
Keene eyed her with observation. He himself had slight depth for a man doomed to live by his wits, and he was under the disadvantage of really feeling something of what he said. He was not a rascal by predilection; merely driven that way by the forces which in our social state abundantly make for rascality.