Faber went to the Savoy Hotel and rested a few hours in his room before going on to Hampstead. There were a few of his own countrymen there and they, oddly enough, spoke of a mild winter in Eastern America and a general absence of severity throughout the States. He learned with some surprise that his meeting with the Emperor had been made known to New York and was considered a triumph of a personal kind—though it had given offence in some religious circles and was supposed to be antagonistic to the peace idea. He determined to confute this without loss of time, holding, as he did, the firm faith that the Kaiser was the one great instrument of peace in the western world, and had the sanest ideas upon the subject. For the first time in his life, there was a trouble of the conscience concerning his own business and the mission upon which it had sent him. Was he, in truth, an obstacle to a gospel which had begun to obsess the minds of the Anglo-Saxon race? He knew that the charge was false and his pride resented it warmly. He desired peace absolutely—what forbade him to prepare the nations for war?
It was growing dark when he set out for Hampstead, and there were many lights in the little house in Well Walk when he arrived there. A very ancient parlourmaid, who would have served Rembrandt for "a head," opened the door and told him that Mr. Silvester was at home. She added also that she had supposed he was the doctor, and plainly conveyed her disappointment that he was not.
"Ah!" he said, "the young lady is no better, then? Well, I'm sorry for that!"
"Indeed, and ye may be, sir. We think it's new-monica."
He shook the powdered snow from his boots and went into the hall. Gabrielle, hearing footsteps, ran out on the landing above and looked over the banister.
"Is that you, Mr. Faber—how good of you—how glad she will be!"—and saying all this in a breath, she came down the stairs and held out her hand.
"So, there's no great danger after all," he rejoined.
She looked surprised. "Why no danger?"
"Because you come to me smiling. Well, I'm anxious, anyway. Shall I be able to see her?"
"Of course, you will. She is asking for you always. Please come right up at once. Oh! there I am, speaking your language—how ridiculous it must sound to you?"