The entrance of dinner as Comethup’s hand was on the bell saved a further explosion, and they sat down. The captain could not but admire, as Comethup had done before, the ease and dexterity with which Miss Carlaw found everything she wanted, seeming to know by the slightest movement of her quick hands exactly where everything about her was. She kept up a running fire of comment on herself and her mode of life, and on all she had already planned to do for her nephew.
“I suppose, like the rest of them, captain, you think I’m a helpless old woman, and bemoan my fate to be shut up in darkness, eh?” She went on rapidly, without giving him time for a reply: “Indeed, you’re quite mistaken. I’ve got such a blessed lot to be thankful for that I haven’t time to think about any little trifle that might otherwise worry me. Look at me, sound and strong and hearty, with everything I want in this world, and the other one too far off to be thought of yet a bit. Oh, and I can assure you I’m not a lonely old woman by any means. I love company; I love to hear voices and laughter and music all about me; there’s nothing like it to keep the heart young. I can tell you there’s generally a house full where Charlotte Carlaw is—and merry times the rogues have, men and women alike.” She paused, and her face grew grave and thoughtful for a moment. “Only sometimes, when they’re all gone, and the music has ceased and the house is quiet, I’ve felt—I’m an old fool, I know—but I’ve felt it would be good to have some one, pure and sweet of heart—some one who didn’t love me for my money, or because I said smart things, or sharp things, or because I was eccentric; some one who’d gone deeper into the heart of the old woman than that, and understood her a little. D’you know what I mean?”
“Yes, I think so,” said the captain.
Comethup, at that change in the old woman’s voice, had unconsciously moved his hand along the table nearer toward her; she must have been aware of the movement, for she dropped her own unerringly upon it. “And even here, you see,” she went on, “the Lord was good to me; I found this baby. I tried to find one before, but, oh! that boy! I sha’n’t forget it in a hurry. He’ll do big things, I don’t doubt; there’s no knowing what he will do; but he was too much for me. It’s all surface—surface there; I suppose he can’t help it, but it’s all sparkle and dash and nothing else. This chap’s different, I think.”
“I know it,” said the captain.
“You’re rather fond of the boy, aren’t you?” she asked.
“We’re very good friends,” said the captain, with a smile at Comethup. “I was a lonely old man before he came; I suppose I shall be a lonely old man again. But I’m not—not such a curmudgeon that I can’t be glad at his good fortune.”
“Well spoken, well spoken,” cried Miss Carlaw, rapping her knuckles on the table. “And you mustn’t think you’re losing the boy; I’ll trot him down here to see you as often as I can spare him. And you must come up and pay me a visit in London; we’ll always be glad to see you.”
Comethup’s face brightened, and the captain thanked Miss Carlaw cordially. She gave the old soldier permission to smoke, and signed to Comethup to produce a box of cigars, the best the inn could afford, from the side-board.
“You must forget my sex, you know, captain,” she said, “and look upon me as a host rather than a hostess. I should probably smoke myself if it weren’t that I’m afraid that I might startle this baby. Oh, I’m going to make a man of him, captain; I’m going to make a devilish fine man of him. And, by the Lord! I think he shall be a soldier.”