“Yes, I suppose that Madeira is pretty empty.”
“There is nobody here at all, sir.”
“Is Mrs. Carr gone, then?” asked Arthur, in some alarm.
“No; she is still here. She has not been away this year. But she has been very quiet; no parties or anything, which makes people think that she has lost money.”
By this time the boat was rising on the roll of the last billow, to be caught next moment by a dozen hands, and dragged up the shingle. It was evening, or rather, verging that way, and from under the magnolia- trees below the cathedral there came the sound of the band summoning the inhabitants of Funchal to congregate, chatter, and flirt.
“I think,” said Arthur, “that I will ask you to take my things up to the hotel. I will come by-and-by. I should like the same room I had before, if it is empty.”
“Very good, Mr. Heigham. You will have the place nearly all to yourself now.”
Having seen his baggage depart, Arthur turned, and resisting the importunities of beggars, guides, and parrot-sellers, who had not yet recognized him as an old hand, made his way towards the Quinta Carr. How well he knew the streets and houses, even to the withered faces of the women who sat by the doors, and yet he seemed to have grown old since he had seen them. Ten minutes of sharp walking brought him to the gates of the Quinta, and he paused before them, and thought how, a few months ago, he had quitted them, miserable at the grief of another, now to re-enter them utterly crushed by his own.
He walked on through the beautiful gardens to the house. The hall-door stood open. He did not wait to ring, but, driven by some impulse, entered. After the glare of the sun, which at that time of the year was powerful even in its decline, the carefully shaded hall seemed quite dark. But by degrees his eyes adapted themselves to the altered light, and began to distinguish the familiar outline of the furniture. Next they travelled to the door of the drawing-room, where another sight awaited them. For there, herself a perfect picture, standing in the doorway for a frame, her hands outstretched in welcome, and a loving smile upon her lips, was Mildred.
“I was waiting for you,” she said, gently. “I thought that you would come.”