“It does not matter; I must see him—which is his room?”
She was so determined that she pushed past him, quite pale, and with a desperation which the man, more experienced than the old charwoman, recognised. He followed her upstairs, and opened a door. “If you will go in there, I will send him to you.” It was a small sitting-room, Eddy’s no doubt, from the pipes and foils and riding-whips and other mannish boyish articles that hung on the walls. Evelyn would have turned back when she saw that he was not there. “I am not to be foiled,” she said; “I must see him; take me to his room, or else I will find it for myself!”
“Ma’am,” said the man, “I know you’re a lady and a friend of the family. I have seen you before. I give you my word I’ll bring him to you, if you’ll wait here.”
She sat down and waited close by the open door. She was determined that he should not escape her, whatever his desire might be. The man, after a vain attempt to close the door upon her, opened the next door and went in. She heard the blinds drawn up, something said softly, then an astonished cry. At all events, whatever might come of it, she had at least secured her opportunity at last.
It was half-an-hour, however, before, after many movements and commotion in the next room, Eddy came forth hurried and breathless, with a face that looked old and wan in the light of the morning, a light he was not much accustomed to face. Poor little pale, old-young face, something between the shrivelled countenance of an old man and that of a pinched, unwholesome child! to think that he should not yet be of age, and yet wear that look: but Mrs. Rowland had no time for such reflections. She rose up quickly, just within the open door, and put out an eager hand. He might even now have escaped her, she felt, had she not been standing there, where he was obliged to pass; and his tremor and anxiety at the sight of her were evident. He cried, “Mrs. Rowland!” letting fall a book which was in his hand.
“Yes; I have come down direct from Scotland to speak to you. I have been three days trying to see you.” She had scarcely breath enough to say so many words.
“The old woman,” said Eddy, “told me something about a lady from Scotland; but I thought it bosh; she is such an old fool. I did not flatter myself there was any lady in Scotland who would take the trouble to come after me; and you, Mrs. Rowland——”
“You did not think of seeing me? Can you imagine no reason why I should come?” she said.
To Evelyn’s astonishment—for her enigmatical question had really been put at pure hazard—Eddy’s sallow and careworn face flushed over with a violent red, and then became more than sallow, cadaverous, and a cold moisture came out upon his forehead.
“Let me shut the door,” he said, “it’s cold; and can I order you anything: a cup of tea—breakfast? Ah!” he said with a laugh, “of course you’ve breakfasted hours ago; but I’m sure you will not mind if I order my tea: one wants it in a morning when one has been late overnight.”