As the cab quitted the square, Alison shrank back on perceiving Sir Jasper Dehorsey (or 'Captain Smith,' as she supposed him to be) ambling his horse slowly along, and watching—as she had before known him to do—the windows of the house she had just quitted for ever; and this incident, with the memory of Cadbury's cruel and cowardly letter, filled her heart with horror, bitterness, and dismay. She felt so well-nigh penniless and helpless, too.
The summer sunshine was in all its brightness and glory, but Alison felt as if a mist surrounded her, and as if the surging of great waters was in her ears, and she feared that she might faint.
Almost at the same moment she quitted Pembridge Square, Bevil Goring entered it to leave his card, like a well-bred man, on the De Jobbyns family, whom he devoutly hoped to find 'not at home.' Indeed, he selected the time when he knew that the mother and daughter were generally 'hairing' themselves, as they called it, in the Row, and as he drew near the house he came suddenly upon a well-known form and figure.
'What, Archie! faithful old Archie Auchindoir—you here!' he exclaimed, as he shook the old man's hand with ardour. 'Can it be you?'
'By my certie it is, sir,' replied Archie, 'and pleased I am to see a kent face in this unco human wilderness o' brick wa's.'
'And what are you doing here now that poor Sir Ranald is dead?'
'Just what he wad hae dune—watching owre missie, sir.'
'And where is she, Archie—where is she?'
'Where her forbears wad little like to see her.'
'How—where—what?' asked Goring, impetuously.