XV
COLLOQUIES WITH AN OUTSIDER
Dolly did her best to get Bernard away from the station before Lal came up; but as she had only that morning been preaching the duties of man to unprotected females, and as Bernard’s desires went wholly along with his duty, she could not detach him from Angela. She went away herself, on the pretext of ordering the dog-cart, met Lal in the station yard, looked full in his face, and refused to know him.
Angela was waiting impatiently; Lal had promised to meet her at six o’clock, their train went at six-fifteen, and it was now five minutes past. Lal was always exact in keeping his engagements. Angela felt uneasy, and was cross. Bernard stayed with her till ten minutes after the hour, and then hurried off to consult his sister. Dolly was quite ready to drive back alone; perhaps because the route through Hungrygut Bottom was in her mind as the best way home, and to it Bernard might have demurred on the horse’s account, for it was steep and stony, the roads having been recently repaired. She had an idea that Lal might be waiting in the high-road to see her pass. Bernard, having her consent, hurried back; he was just in time to install Angela in a first-class carriage, with himself as guardian for their half-hour’s journey. Then Angela, discovering that she was shut up alone with Bernard Fane, began to wish herself idiotic, dead, buried, anywhere out of the world, and plunged into a fresh discussion of temperance.
Lal had stood like a statue till Dolly was out of sight, and then tried to follow her. He had not seen which road she took, and his wanderings led him far from the station. At last he bethought him that the horse must be stabled somewhere, and began to inquire; and half an hour later tracked her down at the Railway Hotel. While he was still questioning the waiter, a man passed through the hall and would have gone out had not Lal interrupted himself and sprang forward, crying out, “Meryon!”
The gambler turned round, colouring with pleasure. “I didn’t know you were home!” he said. “I heard you’d got no end of stars and orders, but I didn’t know you were home! I’m so awfully glad.”
“I’m staying with the Mertons; what are you doing?”
“I’m here for the night. Come to my room, will you? There’s heaps I want to know.”
Lal, who had just heard that Dolly had departed full half an hour ago, abandoned his quest for the nonce, and went. Meryon and he had been friends for years, though the guardian angel knew it not; she would have feared the effect of pitch on Lal’s innocence if she had. They met rarely; in the intervals their friendship hibernated, coming out unspoiled when times of refreshing arrived. Meryon wrote never, Lal rarely, and when he did his stiff little letters were mere catalogues of events. But friendship, like the python, can live for years unfed.
Meryon’s room was full of untidy properties tidily arranged. A discreditable old Collard & Collard was its only luxury. He had been playing patience, and the cards were scattered about the table; Lal sat down on a bedroom chair, leaning his elbow on the wash-stand and his chin on his hand, and watched Meryon gather them up.