“I beg your pardon; I should have said she knows she is happily married. And that is something of a comfort to her. I think she despaired long since of ever being able to reveal herself to her daughter. And you think that our little ’Linda is really happy?”
“Why, of course she is. She married the man she loved,” said Comethup quietly.
“Well, I suppose she did,” said the captain. “And Brian, I understand, is doing well?”
“Oh, yes, he’s doing well enough,” replied Comethup, turning away.
He wandered again in the garden of her old house the next night. Medmer Theed may have been lurking among the trees, but he did not see him. Coming out, when it was very late, into the street, he found the old captain pacing up and down before the gate, with his long military cloak about him, and his hands clasped under it behind his back. They walked on slowly down the road together. It seemed almost a natural thing that he should be there, and for some time Comethup said nothing. At last, looking round, he said slowly, “I suppose you think I’m a fool, sir?”
“God forbid!” said the old man, staring straight in front of him as he walked. “A man’s got to fight this sort of thing out alone, and with what strength God may give him. Come home, boy; to-morrow—oh, it hurts me to part from you—but to-morrow you must go to London.”
“Yes, I think you’re right. All this place is full of memories of her; I hear her voice—as child or woman—wherever I turn; her light feet tread all the road beside me where I walk; the very moon shines as calmly down upon me as when we walked together—lovers. Don’t think I’m saying anything against her; perhaps I’ve even been coward enough to hug my pain a little, because the pain has been so sweet. Give me your hand, old friend; I promise—there, I’ll swear if you like—that I’ll try to put it all aside. I can’t forget it; that’s quite another matter; but I’ll put it away from me and be a little braver about it. There’s my hand on it.”
“That’s well,” said the captain, gripping his hand. “I’m sorry to send you away, but I think you know it’s best, don’t you?”
“Yes, you’re right. I must find some work to do; I have been an idle dog too long. Come, let’s go home.”
Yet even in London he could not keep away from her; he thought of her when he woke in the morning, and breathed her name when he lay down to rest at night. He found his way one night to the little house they had taken in Chelsea; longed to go in, in a natural fashion, yet dared not trust himself. Once or twice he turned resolutely to go away, and then came back again, and lingered still. At last, when it was getting late, the door was opened and he saw, from his position on the opposite side of the street, his Uncle Robert Carlaw standing within the hall, lighting a cigar; saw him set his hat at the proper angle, and come swinging out into the street. Comethup had no particular wish to meet him, and only wondered a little, in his own mind, under what circumstances he had returned to his son’s house. He was just walking away in good earnest, when Mr. Robert Carlaw crossed the street, recognised him, and came breathlessly after him. Comethup faced about and pretended not to notice the other’s outstretched hand.