“You are making fun of me,” she said wearily. “But I daresay you are right for all that; I hope so. And now go away, Dick. I am not accustomed to these emotions, and they upset me. Yes, you can come back in a day or two—on Tuesday. No, no more affection, you are smoking—good-bye!”
So Dick went triumphant, his luck was good indeed, and he was really happy, for he adored Edith. She was the only thing or creature that he did adore—except himself.
Once Rupert’s steamer had come safe to dock, which happened a little after two o’clock, it took him but a short while to bid her farewell. Nor was the examination of his luggage a lengthy process, consisting as this did of nothing but a rough carpet-bag, in which were stuffed his Arab garments and a few necessaries that, like the clothes he wore, he had purchased from or through sailors on the ship. The officials, who could not quite place him, for his appearance puzzled them, thought well to turn out the bag whereof the contents puzzled them still more, but as there was nothing dutiable in it they were soon thrust back again. Then with some difficulty he found a hansom cab, and crawling into it, bade the man drive to his mother’s house in Regent’s Park, a journey that seemed longer to Rupert than all those days upon the sea.
At length they were there, and having paid the cabman, he took his carpet-bag and turned to enter the little iron gate. He could not see the house as yet, for the dusk was gathering and the fog obscured it. Still it struck him as strangely silent and unfriendly. There was no light in the drawing-room window as there should have been, for he remembered that even when the curtains were drawn, they did not fit close, as he had often noticed when returning home at night.
Some premonition of evil struck Rupert’s heart, but he repelled it, and hobbling up the little walk and the steps beyond, found the bell and rang. There was a long pause, until at last he heard somebody shuffling down the passage, heard, too, the door being unlocked and the chain unhooked. Then he grew terribly afraid until he remembered of a sudden that it was quite possible that Edith and his mother were again spending the New Year at Devene. Well, it would be a great disappointment, but on the other hand, he would have a few hours to make himself more presentable.
The door opened, and before him stood a stout, heavy-faced woman who held a greasy tin candlestick in her hand.
“What do you want?” she said, surveying this rough figure and his crutch and carpet-bag doubtfully, for her mind ran on tramps.
“I want to see Mrs. Ullershaw,” he answered, and his voice reassured her somewhat.
“Mrs. Ullershaw? Which Mrs. Ullershaw?—for I’ve heard there was a young ’un as well as an old ’un. I ain’t the regular caretaker, you know, only a friend what’s took her place while she spends New Year’s Day in the country with her husband’s people.”
“Yes, quite so,” said Rupert. “I meant the old Mrs. Ullershaw—”