CHAPTER XXXVII
A FRIENDLY OFFICE
On the Friday when Thyrza, in her happiness, had said 'Tomorrow he comes,' Mrs. Ormonde also was thinking of a visitor, who might arrive at any hour. Nine days ago she had received a telegram from New York, informing her that Walter Egremont was there and about to embark for England. She, too, avoided leaving the house. Her impatience and nervousness were greater than she had thought such an event as this could cause her. But it was years now since she had begun to accept Walter in the place of her own dead son, and in that spirit she desired his return from the exile of twice twelve months. It was with joy that she expected him, though with one uncertainty which would give her trouble now and then, a doubt which was, she felt, shadowy, which the first five minutes of talk would put away.
She had dined, and was thinking that it was now too late to expect an arrival, when the arrival itself was announced.
'A gentleman asks if you will see him,' said the servant, 'Mr. Egremont.'
'I will see him.'
He came quickly to her over the carpet, and they clasped hands. Then, as he heard the door close, Walter kissed the hand he held, kissed it twice with affection. They did not speak at first, but looked at each other. Mrs. Ormonde's eyes shone.
'How strong and well you look!' were her first words. 'You bring a breath from the Atlantic.'
'Rather from a pestilent English railroad car!'
'We say 'railway' and 'carriage,' Walter.'