'We are old friends, Ronald,' she said. 'But that is a small matter. Well, now, I must be getting back home; and yet I should like to see you again soon, Ronald, for there are so many things I have to talk over with you. Will you come and see my sister?'
His hesitation and embarrassment were so obvious that she instantly repented her of having thrown out this invitation; moreover, it occurred to herself that there would be little chance of her having any private speech of Ronald (which was of such paramount importance at this moment) if he called at Queen's Crescent.
'No, not yet,' she said, rather shamefacedly and with downcast eyes; 'perhaps, since—since there are one or two private matters to talk over, we—we could meet just as now? It is not—taking up too much of your time, Ronald?'
'Why,' said he, 'if I could see you for a moment, any day—merely to say "good morning"—that would be a well-spent day for me; no more than that used to make many a long day quite happy for me at Inver-Mudal.'
'Could you be here to-morrow at eleven, Ronald?' she asked, looking up shyly.
'Yes, yes, and gladly!' he answered; and presently they had said good-bye to each other; and she had set out for Queen's Crescent by herself; while he turned towards the east.
And now all his being seemed transfused with joy and deep gratitude; and the day around him was clear and sweet and full of light; and all the world seemed swinging onward in an ether of happiness and hope. The dreaded interview!—where was the reproach and scorn of it? Instead of that it had been all radiant with trust and courage and true affection; and never had Meenie's eyes been so beautiful and solicitous with all good wishes; never had her voice been so strangely tender, every tone of it seeming to reach the very core of his heart. And how was he to requite her for this bountiful care and sympathy—that overawed him almost when he came to think of it? Nay, repayment of any kind was all impossible: where was the equivalent of such generous regard? But at least he could faithfully observe the promises he had made—yes, these and a hundred more; and perhaps this broken life of his might still be of some small service, if in any way it could win for him a word of Meenie's approval.
And then, the better to get away from temptation, and to cut himself wholly adrift from his late companions, he walked home to his lodgings and packed up his few things and paid his landlady a fortnight's rent in lieu of notice, as had been agreed upon. That same night he was established in new quarters, in the Garscube Road; and he had left no address behind him; so that if Kate Menzies, or the skipper, or any of his cronies of the Harmony Club were to wonder at his absence and seek to hunt him out, they would seek and hunt in vain.
CHAPTER VI.
CONFESSION.