And then the door closed, and he was gone.
The day had grown dark, surely, all at once. It was a day in early spring, and very cloudy. A mass of dark vapour had blown up over the sweet sky; and what a change it was all in a moment, from that pretty fooling about himself and his other self to this sudden parting! But, then, it was an errand of mercy on which he was going. God be with him! And it could not be for long. Nothing, neither trouble nor suffering, nor death of friends, nor any created thing could separate them long.
CHAPTER III.
Trix was not so quickly satisfied as Grace had been. ‘Going away!’ she cried; ‘going to leave Grace! I thought you could not bear to have her out of your sight.’
‘I hope I was not such an ass as to say so, but I cannot help myself—it is an old friend—’
‘Who is he? Do I know him?’ she said, as Grace had said. ‘You men are so ridiculous about your friends. Probably somebody that did you nothing but harm, and whom you would be thankful never to hear of again.’
‘You speak like an oracle. Trix; but I must go all the same.’
‘And why don’t you say who he is? Ah, it was a great deal better for you, Oliver, when you had no friends that your sister didn’t know of. Tell me who he is—at least, tell me his name.’
‘You would not be a bit the wiser. You know nothing whatever about—him. Trix, take great care of her while I am away.’
‘Oh, as for taking care of her!—’ He went out of the room while she was speaking to put his necessaries into his bag. And left alone, she began to think still more doubtfully over the meaning of this sudden move. She ran over every name she could think of, of people whom she knew he had known. She, too, felt the influence of that sudden cloud which blotted out the sky and brought the quick deluge of the spring shower pouring about the ears of the wayfarers. The darkness assisted her womanish imagination, as it had done that of Grace. It was like a sudden misfortune falling when no one thought of it. And Mrs. Ford’s mind was greatly exercised. When Oliver came into the room again, ready to start, she got up quickly and went to him with her two hands on the lappels of his coat. ‘Oliver,’ she cried, breathlessly, ‘I hope to goodness it is a him, and not—You couldn’t, you wouldn’t—it isn’t possible.’