One day Maurice rode over to Dighton, and told his cousin he was come to
say good-bye. She was not, of course, surprised to hear that he was
really going, but she could not help expressing her wonder at the
lightness with which he spoke of a journey of so many thousand miles.
"You talk of going to Canada," she said, "just as I should talk of going
to Paris--as if it were an affair of a few hours."
"If it were six times as far," he answered, "it would make no difference
to me, except that I should be more impatient to start; and yet most
likely when I get there I shall find my journey useless."
Somehow or other there had come to be a tolerably clear understanding,
on Lady Dighton's part, of the state of affairs between Maurice and
Lucia--she knew that Maurice was intent upon finding his old playfellow,
and winning her if possible at once. She naturally took the part of her
new favourite; and believed that if Lucia were really what he described
her, she would easily be persuaded to come to Hunsdon as its mistress;
for, of course, she knew of no other barrier between the young people
than that of Maurice's newly acquired importance. She thought Mrs.
Costello had acted in a prudent and dignified manner in wishing to
separate them; but she also thought, in rather a contradictory fashion,
that since Maurice was intent upon the marriage, he ought to have his
own way. So she was quite disposed to encourage him with auguries of
success.
"They are not likely to be in any hurry to begin a sea-voyage such
weather as this," she said, shivering. "Two ladies, even if they are
Canadians, can't make quite so light of it as you do."
"I wish you may be right," he answered; "but if I should not find them
there, I shall bring my father to England and then go off in search of
them. A pretty prospect! They may lead me all over Europe before I find
them."
Lady Dighton laughed outright.
"One would suppose that telegraphs and railways were not in existence,"
she said, "and that you had to set out, like a knight-errant, with
nothing but a horse and a sword to recover your runaway lady-love."
Maurice felt slightly offended, but thought better of it, and laughed
too.
"I shall find them, no fear," he answered; "but when? and where?"
Next morning he left Hunsdon, and went to London. The moment he was
really moving, his spirits rose, and his temper, which had been
considerably disturbed lately, recovered itself. He scarcely stopped at
all, till he found himself that afternoon at the door of the solicitor's
office, where he had some affairs to attend to.
He got out of his cab and to the lawyer's door, as if everything
depended on his own personal speed; but just as he went up the steps,
the door opened, and a clerk appeared, showing a gentleman out. Even in
the midst of Maurice's hurry, something familiar in the figure struck
him; he looked again--it was Percy. They recognized each other; at the
same moment, by a common impulse, they saluted each other ceremoniously
and passed on their different ways.
Maurice was expected, and he found Mr. Payne ready to receive him.
Instead, however, of plunging at once into business as, a minute ago, he
was prepared to do, he asked abruptly. "Is Mr. Percy a client of yours?"
"I can hardly say that," the lawyer answered, surprised by the question.
"I met him going out," Maurice went on.
Mr. Payne rubbed his hands.
"It is no secret," he said; "I may tell you, I suppose. He called about
some points in a marriage settlement."
Maurice felt his heart give a great leap.
"Whose?" he asked sharply.
Mr. Payne again looked surprised.
"His own, certainly. He is going to marry a daughter of the Earl of
C----, and I had the honour of being employed by the late Countess's
family, from whom her ladyship derives what fortune she has. It is not
very large," he added, dropping from his dignified tone into a more
confidential one.
Maurice was silent for a minute. His sensations were curious; divided
between joy that Lucia was certainly free in _this_ quarter, and a
vehement desire to knock down, horsewhip, or otherwise ill-use the
Honourable Edward Percy. Of course, this was a savage impulse, only
worthy of a half-civilized backwoodsman, but happily he kept it down out
of sight, and his companion filled up the pause.
"The marriage is to take place in a week. The engagement has been
hastily got up, they say, at last; though there was some talk of it a
year ago. He does not seem particularly eager about it now."
"What is he marrying her for?" was Maurice's next question, put with an
utter disregard of all possibilities of sentiment in the matter--the man
whom Lucia _might_ have loved could not but be indifferent to all other
women.
"It's not a bad match," Mr. Payne answered, putting his head on one side
as if to consider it critically. "Not much money, but a good
connection--excellent."
Whereupon they dismissed Percy and his affairs, and went to work.
Late that night, for no reason but because he could not rest in London,
Maurice started for Liverpool. The steamer did not sail till afternoon,
and there would have been plenty of time for him to go down in the
morning; but he chose do otherwise, and consequently found himself in
the streets of Liverpool in the miserable cold darkness of the winter
dawn. Of course, there was nothing to be done then, but go to a hotel
and get some breakfast and such warmth as was to be had. He felt cross
and miserable, and half wished he had stayed in London.
However the fire burnt up, breakfast came, and the dingy fog began to
roll away a little from before the windows. He went out and walked about
the city. He stared at the public buildings without seeing them; then at
the shop-windows, till he suddenly found himself in front of a
jeweller's, and it occurred to him that he would go in and buy a ring
which would fit a slender finger in case of need. He went in
accordingly, and after looking at some dozens, at last fixed upon one.
He knew the exact size, for he had once taken a ring of Lucia's and
tried to put it on his little finger; it would not go over the middle
joint, but persisted in sticking fast just where the one he bought
stopped. It was a magnificent little affair--almost enough to bribe a
girl to say "Yes" for the pleasure of wearing it, and Maurice
congratulated himself on the happy inspiration. Being in a tempting
shop, he also bethought himself of carrying out with him some trifling
gifts for his old friends; and by the time he had finished his
selection, he found to his great satisfaction that he might return to
the hotel for his luggage, and go on board ship at once.
The small steamer which was to carry the passengers out to the 'India'
was already beginning to take on her load when Maurice arrived. The fog,
which had partially cleared away in the town, lay heavy and brown over
the river; the wet dirty deck, the piles of luggage, and groups of
people were all muffled in it, and looked shapeless and miserable in the
gloom. Hurry and apparent confusion were to be seen everywhere, but only
for a short time. The loading was soon completed, and they moved away
into the river.
Then came another transfer--passengers, trunks, mail-bags all poured on
to the 'India's' deck. Last farewells were said--friends parted, some
for a few weeks, some for ever--the great paddles began to move, and the
voyage was begun.
As they went down the river, snow began to fall. It filled the air and
covered the deck with wet, slowly moving flakes, and the water which
swallowed it up all round the ship looked duller and darker by contrast.
Everybody went below, most people occupied themselves with arranging
their possessions so as to be most comfortable during the voyage;
Maurice, who had few possessions to arrange, took out that morning's
_Times_, and sat down to read.
The first two or three days of a voyage are generally nearly a blank to
landsmen. Maurice was no exception to the rule. Even Lucia commanded
only a moderate share of his thoughts till England and Ireland were
fairly out of sight, and the 'India' making her steady course over the
open ocean. Then he began to watch the weather as eagerly as if the
ship's speed and safety had depended on his care. Every day he went, the
moment the notice was put up, to see what progress they had made since
the day before, and, according as their rate of movement was slower or
faster, his day and night were serene or disturbed.
The number of passengers was small. With what there were he soon formed
the kind of acquaintance which people shut up together for a certain
time generally make with each other. Everybody was eager for the
conclusion of the voyage, for the weather, though on the whole fine, was
intensely cold, and only the bravest or hardiest could venture to spend
much time on deck. Down below every device for killing time was in
requisition; but in spite of all, the question, "When shall we reach New
York?" was discussed over and over again; and each indication of their
voyage being by a few hours shorter than they had a right to expect, was
hailed with the greatest delight.
One day when they were really near the end of their voyage, Maurice and
a fellow-passenger, a young man of about his own age, were walking
briskly up and down the deck, trying to keep themselves warm, and
talking of Canada, to which they were both bound. A sailor who had come
for some purpose to the part of the deck where they were, suddenly
called their attention to a curl of smoke far off on the horizon; it was
something homeward bound, he said--he could not tell what, but they
would most likely pass near each other.
The two young men had been thinking of going down, but the idea of
meeting a ship of any kind was sufficient excitement to keep them on
deck. They continued their walk, stopping every now and then to watch
the smoke as it grew more and more distinct. Presently the steamer
itself became visible, and other persons began to assemble and guess
what steamer it could be and how long it would be before they passed
each other. Meanwhile the stranger came nearer and nearer; at last it
could be recognized--the 'Atalanta,' from New York to Havre. Maurice
borrowed a glass from one of the officers, and, going a little apart
from the group on the deck of the 'India,' set himself to examine that
of the 'Atalanta.' A sudden feeling of dismay had seized upon him. He
had no more reason to suppose that Lucia was on board this steamer than
he had to believe that she had sailed a week ago, or that she was still
at Cacouna, and yet a horrible certainty took possession of him that, if
he could only get on board that ship, so tantalizingly close at hand and
yet so utterly inaccessible, he should find her there. He strained his
eyes in the vain effort to distinguish her figure. He almost stamped
with disappointment when he found that the distance was too great, or
his glass not sufficiently powerful, for the forms he could just see, to
be recognizable; and as the two steamers passed on, and the distance
between them grew every moment greater, he hurried down to his cabin,
not caring that any one should see how disturbed he was. He threw
himself upon his little sofa, thinking.
"I wonder if she suspected I was so near her. I wonder whether she
looked for me as I looked for her. Not _as_ I did, of course, for she is
everything to me, and I am only an old friend to her; but yet I think
she would have been sorry to miss me by so little.
"What an idiot I am! when I have not even the smallest notion whether
she could be on board or not. Very likely I shall find them still at the
dear old Cottage."
But after his soliloquy he shook his head in a disconsolate manner, and
betook himself to a novel by way of distraction.
Two more days and they reached New York. They got in early in the
morning, and Maurice, the moment he found himself on shore, hurried to
the railway station. On inquiry there, however, he found that to start
immediately would be, in fact, rather to lose, than to gain time. A
train starting that evening would be his speediest conveyance; and for
that he resolved to wait. He then turned to a telegraph office,
intending to send a message to his father, but on second thoughts
abandoned that idea also, considering that Mr. Leigh already expected
him, and that further warning could do no good and might do harm.
He spent the day, he scarcely knew how. He dined somewhere, and read the
newspapers. He found himself out in the middle of reading with the
greatest appearance of interest an article copied from the _Times_ which
he had read in England weeks before. He looked perpetually at his watch,
and when, at last, he found that his train would be due in half an hour,
he started up in the greatest haste, and drove to the station as if he
had not a moment to spare.
What a Babel the car seemed when he did get into it! There were numbers
of women and children, not a few babies. It was bitterly cold, and
everybody was anxious to settle themselves at once for the night.
Everybody was talking, sitting down, and getting up again, turning the
seats backwards and forwards to suit their parties, or their fancies,
soothing the shivering, crying children, or discussing the probability
of being impeded by the snow. But when the train was fairly in motion,
when the conductor had made his progress through the cars, when
everybody had got their tickets, and there was no more to be done, all
subsided gradually into a dull sleepy quiet, broken occasionally by a
child's cry, but still undisturbed enough to let those passengers who
did not care to sleep, think in peace.
Maurice thought, uselessly, but persistently. He thought of the past,
when he had been quite happy, looking forward to a laborious life with
Lucia to brighten it. He thought of the future which must now have one
of two aspects--either cold, matter-of-fact and solitary, in the great
empty house at Hunsdon without Lucia, or bright and perfect beyond even
his former dreams, in that same great old house with her. He meant to
win her, however, sooner or later, and the real trouble which he feared
at present was nothing worse than delay.