CHAPTER XXVII
THE INTERMEDIARY
Some time in December Captain Langrishe came home.
Nelly knew the day and the hour that he was expected, but she was as terrified of meeting him as though she had not had so much assurance of his love for her. She knew the events of the day as though she had been present at their happening. Cyprian Rooke's brother, a young, distinguished doctor well on his way to Harley Street although only a few discriminating people had found him out, had gone down to Southampton with Mrs. Rooke and her mother to meet the invalid, who even yet must bear traces of the terrible illness through which he had passed. Nelly could see it all, from the moment the big boat came into Southampton Docks till the arrival in London. Captain Langrishe was going down to his sister's cottage in Sussex. The mother and sister, who already claimed Nelly as their own, had been eager for her to be there on their arrival, or to come later. But Nelly was adamant.
"He must come to me," she said. "And I think the one thing I could not forgive is that anyone should interfere: anyone, even you two whom I dearly love. Promise me that you will not."
They had promised her. They were women of discretion; and they felt that now he was come back to them things might safely be left to take their own course. To be sure, as soon as he could he would go to Nelly as to his mate, naturally, joyfully. In an early letter, written before Nelly's embargo, Mrs. Rooke had told him that Nelly's engagement had been broken off. Later, she had conveyed the news that Robin Drummond had consoled himself with rapidity, and was to be married to the Miss Gray whose book on the conditions of women's labour among the poor had made such a stir, and not only in political circles. Godfrey Langrishe in his letters had not commented on these communications.
"Let Godfrey be!" said the sister, who knew him with the thoroughness of a nursery companion. "He will do his own wooing. He would not thank us for doing it for him."
All next day Nelly waited. After the very early morning she did not dare go outdoors lest he should come in her absence. The General went off to his club to be out of the way. At a quarter to seven he opened the door with his latch-key and came in, more than half-expecting to find an overcoat which did not belong to him in the hall. There was none; and he went on to the drawing-room with a vague sense of disappointment. Langrishe must have been and gone.
In the drawing-room he found Nelly alone.
"Well, papa," she said, as he came in, and offered no further remark.