It was a quarter to twelve when this was arrived at, and Crabbe took the precaution of closing the door securely after the Frenchman, and of seeing that the blind was sufficiently lowered over the one window which looked on the side of the cleared yard nearer the river, but he did not think of looking out of the window. Perhaps if he had he would not have recognized Ringfield in the straight dark shadow that kept walking up and down, up and down, as long as the light shone from that room. When he at last found himself secure and alone, the Englishman's stoicism, pride, and remorse, all came forth at one bound. He sat down and swept the dishes away from him, reached for Pauline's hand, and bent his head down over it upon the table, smothering different ejaculations, which, warm and earnest enough, were totally removed from his usual style of impassioned speech—he uttered nothing profane. But he sobbed—sobbed.
"Oh, what is it?" cried Miss Clairville in alarm. "What has happened? I never saw you like this before. It frightens me—why you sound as if you were crying, but that would be impossible. Oh, tell me, tell me!"
He grew calmer, lifted his head and felt for his handkerchief. "Yes, it's quite possible! I believe I have shed a tear or two. The first in how many years, Pauline? Ah—that I could not, would not wish to compute, but it's over now, I——"
He stopped, released her hand and began settling his clothes with the familiar touches she remembered so well. "I—well; Pauline, it's this; I've come into money. Now you know. Now you understand. And another thing—I know how to make money—what's more. Nothing succeeds like success, you see, and by Heaven—one thing followed on another till I could have gambled for luck, lost all, and won all back! Oh—I don't know what I'm saying, but I mean that one thing would have been enough, and there came two, two at once, here in the middle of this gloomy wood, this Inferno of a place I have hated so well and so long. Gad—it isn't half bad to-night though! I feel like a gentleman, I hope I look like one; I can act like one at least: pay my way, pay for this little spread, pay for your roses—what did you think when you saw them?"
Pauline did not take her eyes off him. She was alarmed, not believing a word he said, and she did not answer with her usual spirit.
"I thought them very wonderful of course in this out-of-the-way place.
Did you send for them?"
"My lady is cautious. New for her. Where is our Gallic zeal and impetuosity gone? You're afraid of me! I see it. You think I'm drunk?"
She shook her head, but her smile was somewhat wan.
"Here, I'll convince you. Take my hands, both of them. Both of them,
I say. At once, madam."
She did so and he drew her near, nearer, till their knees were touching.