CHAPTER XXXVI.
IN DEATH THEY WERE NOT DIVIDED.
My love he stood at my right hand,
His eyes were grave and sweet;
Methought he said, "In this far land,
Oh, is it thus we meet!
Ah, maid most dear, I am not here,
I have no place—no part
No dwelling more by sea or shore,
But only in thine heart!"
Jean Ingelow.
Bertie Du Meresq, after lingering a while in London, without any tidings of Cecil, began to weary of inaction, and turn his thoughts again to Australia. But just then warlike rumours were becoming rife, and forced his mind into another channel. Good heavens! with such a prospect, possibility even, how could he let his papers be sent in? There was just time to recall them. He rushed to the Horse Guards, despatched a letter to his Colonel, and his retirement, not having yet been gazetted, was cancelled.
But how appease the injured Green, who had advanced the over regulation money for the troop? That must be returned, however expensive it might be to raise the necessary sum. One possible resource remained. He possessed a maiden aunt—of means, whose patience and purse he had completely exhausted some years ago; added to which she had become "serious," and a gentleman of the Stiggens order now diverted her spare cash into the coffers of little Bethlehem.
Du Meresq was aware that he had been predestined to doom by the Rev. Mr. Jackson, and that his aunt had been assured she could not touch pitch without being defiled. "Nevertheless," he thought, "I must try and carry her by a coup de main, if I have to pitch her clerical friend out of the window first."
Lady Susan had abandoned the more fashionable precincts of London to be nearer her chapel and districts, and the Hansom cabman who drove Bertie to Hammersmith had quartered nearly every yard of it before their combined intelligence hit off a square stone house on a bit of a common.
Lady Susan was within, and Du Meresq followed the depressed-looking footman upstairs with as much ease as if he had not been particularly forbidden the house five years ago. He embraced his aunt affectionately before she had collected herself sufficiently to prevent him, and bowed with the utmost grace to a rather vulgar-looking, self-sufficient lady to whom he was presented. This person, however, he contrived to sit out in spite of her curiosity.
"And now, Bertie," said Lady Susan, austerely, "what is it you want? I know from past experience it is not I alone you come to see. I warn you though your hopes are vain. I have, happily, now a more edifying way of spending my poor income than in aiding you in your godless courses."