The night was bitterly cold; but, disdaining a taxi for so short a
distance, Leroy buttoned up his coat and strode swiftly along towards
his chambers in Jermyn Court, W. As he turned the corner of the square,
he stumbled sharply over the slight figure of a girl, crouched near one
of the doorsteps, and, with his habitual courtesy, he stopped to see if
any harm had been done.
"Have I hurt you?" he asked gently, placing his hand on her shoulder.
At his touch the girl started up with a cry of distress; and, as the
shawl fell back from her head, Leroy was almost startled by the vivid
freshness of her beauty.
"Oh," she exclaimed in terrified accents, "I wasn't doing any harm! I
will move on--I--I was only resting." Then, as she saw the kindly face
looking into hers, she subsided into silence.
She was quite young, not more than about sixteen, and so slenderly
formed as to appear almost a child. Her features were clear-cut as a
cameo and she had a slightly foreign air. Her eyes were brown, but as
the light of the gas-lamp fell full on her upturned face, they showed so
dark and velvety as almost to appear black, while masses of dark hair
clustered in heavy waves round her forehead.
Unconsciously Leroy raised his hat as he repeated his question. She
shook her head at him as he bent over her, but made no reply.
"How is it you are out on such a night as this?" he asked. "Have you no
home? Where do you live?"
"Cracknell Court, Soho," she replied, in tones singularly free from any
trace of Cockney accent.
"With your parents?" queried Leroy, feeling for some money.
"No," said the girl, her red lips quivering for a moment. "Haven't got
any--only Johann and Martha--and _they_ don't care."
"Who is Johann?" said Leroy, with an encouraging smile.
"I don't know," she answered listlessly. "He's Johann Wilfer, that's
all."
"Why have you run away, then?"
"Johann came home drunk and beat me--so I ran out."
She pushed back her ragged shawl and held up her arm, on which bruises
showed up cruelly distinct. Leroy uttered an exclamation of anger.
"You poor child!" he said almost tenderly. "What can I do for you? If I
give you money----"
"Johann will take it and make me beg for more," she interrupted; and
Leroy withdrew his hand from his pocket, fearing this to be but too
true.
"Will you go home, if I take you?" he began.
The girl shook her head, and dragged the old shawl closer round her
shivering body.
"Not till morning," she said decidedly. "I shall be all right then."
"But you'll freeze to death here!"
She laughed harshly.
"I wish I was dead," she said, with an earnestness that made Leroy's
heart ache, as he thought of her extreme youth and saw the bitter
despair in the great dark eyes.
He drew himself up sharply as if he had decided on his course of action.
"I cannot leave you here," he said quietly, "and money is of no use to
you to-night. Will you come with me?" He held out his hand as he spoke,
and, without a word, the girl rose wearily and laid her own cold one in
his. They proceeded thus, in silence, for the length of the square; but
Leroy soon saw that, whether, from cold or from hunger, the girl's steps
were growing feebler and more uncertain. Without further ado, he picked
her up in his arms, wrapping her shawl more warmly round her.
"We are nearly there," he said reassuringly, "and you are as light as a
feather."
She lay back, perfectly content, her head pressed against his broad
shoulder, her dark eyes closed trustfully.
Adrien Leroy hurried on, for the wind cut with the force of a knife; but
his face was very thoughtful as he approached his chambers.
"What else can I do?" he asked himself. "She is such an innocent child.
Can I take her to my rooms without injury to her poor shred of
reputation? Yet no houses are open at this hour, and I cannot hand her
over to that drunken brute. There's no help for it!"
It evidently never occurred to him to turn back and deliver her into the
charge of Miss Lester. Indeed, he thought that would have been greater
cruelty than to have left her in the streets.
Having reached the block of buildings in which were his own rooms,
Adrien walked up the stairs and opened a door on the first floor. In the
hall a light was burning, held by a statuette of white marble; and
Leroy, after gently setting the girl down on her feet, led her into his
study.
The room in which she found herself was not lofty, but the ceiling was
exquisitely painted, while from the four corners hung electric lights
'neath delicate shades. The furniture was rich in colour, solid as
befitted a man's room, while on the walls were a few rare engravings. A
couple of gun-cases in one corner and a veritable stock of fishing
implements in another showed that Leroy was not unaccustomed to sport;
it was one of his man Norgate's complaints that he was not allowed to
pack them away, but must leave them there, close at hand, just as Leroy
might want them.
It was not these, however, that held the girl's attention so fixedly,
but the cut Venetian glass on the inlaid cabinets and the gold ornaments
on the carved Florentine mantel.
"Home at last," he said with a smile; and, opening another door on the
left, he led her unresistingly into a second room.
But here the girl seemed as if struck dumb with astonishment. She was
evidently overwhelmed by the magnificence and luxury on which her eyes
rested, and Leroy smiled in amusement at her unspoken admiration.
"Come and warm yourself," he said kindly, drawing one of the divans
nearer to the fire.
Lightly she trod over the rose carpet, and dropped with a sigh into the
chair.
"Give me your hands. Don't hold them near the fire yet," he said, and
began to gently chafe the poor blue fingers, for he knew the danger of
too sudden heat. "That is better--they will soon get warm. And now we
will have something to eat."
He crossed over to the bell; and in a few moments the door opened
noiselessly.
"Let us have some supper, Norgate," said Leroy; and the dignified
man-servant disappeared as silently as he had entered, while his master
returned to the fire-place, and stood looking down at the girl he had
rescued.
As yet she had not spoken; but her eyes had been wandering over the many
splendours of the room. Suddenly she lifted them to the handsome face
above her, and said in a low, awe-struck whisper:
"Is this the king's palace? And are you a prince?"
Adrien Leroy smiled.
"By no means," he said. "Ah! here comes something you require, I know,"
he added, as the door opened, and Norgate entered, bearing a large
silver tray.
Having set the chairs to table, and placed the wine and glasses at hand,
the man announced respectfully that supper was served. His master
dismissed him, guessing that the girl would be less embarrassed if alone
with him; and Norgate retired with a face as expressionless as if the
entertaining of "street waifs"--as he mentally termed the young
visitor--were of nightly occurrence.
Adrien placed a plate of cold chicken on a low table beside her.
"You are warm there," he said, as he poured her out a glass of wine.
The girl looked up into his face with a mute, questioning glance; then,
taking courage from the kindly eyes, she picked up her knife and fork
with long, thin, but well-shaped hands.
Leroy turned to the table, and by dint of helping himself from various
dishes, under a pretence of making a hearty meal, he gave her
confidence; and presently he saw that she had commenced to eat. Adrien
rose from time to time, and waited on her with a delicacy and tenderness
with which few of his friends would have credited him; till, with a sigh
of content, she laid down the knife and fork.
"Are you better now?" he asked as he took her plate.
She looked up at him in speechless adoration, and her eyes filled with
tears.
"How good you are to me," she said. "I never dreamt there could be such
a beautiful place as this. Do you often bring people in out of the
cold?"
His face became grave.
"No," he said evasively--"not as often as I should, I'm afraid. And now,
suppose you tell me your name."
"Jessica," she replied simply.
"And have you no relatives--no friends to help you?" he continued.
She shook her head sadly.
"Only Martha and Johann," was the hopeless reply.
"You poor child! And what does friend Johann do for a living?"
Again she shook her head.
"I don't know. He gets drunk."
"An overfilled profession that," said Leroy, with a sigh. "And now, what
are we to do with you, little Jessica?"
She looked up with frightened eyes.
"Oh," she cried breathlessly, "are you going to turn me out into the
cold again? Must I go? Oh, I knew it was too good to last!"
In her terror she had started up; but Leroy put her back gently into the
chair.
"No, little one, we won't turn you out to-night," he promised.
"To-morrow, we will see what can be done to make your road softer in
future."
She did not understand half his words; but as with an almost womanly
tenderness he placed a silken cushion beneath her head, she nestled
down, smiling into his eyes with the gratitude of a child that neither
questions nor doubts. To her he appeared like a being from another
world--a world or which she had scarcely dared to dream, and her eyes
were eloquent.
Adrien Leroy stood for a little while watching her, till her gentle
breathing showed him she had fallen asleep.
"A beautiful child," he said under his breath. "She will be a still more
beautiful woman." He sighed. "Poor little thing! Rich and poor, young
and old, how soon the world's poison reaches us!" Then, throwing a
tiger-skin over the slender body, he turned out the lights and left the
room. Summoning Norgate, he gave instructions that his nocturnal visitor
should not be disturbed in the morning by the housekeeper, but should be
allowed to sleep on. Then he made his way to his own room, not long
before the dawn broke.
He had befriended this young human thing as he would have rescued a
wounded bird, and with as little thought for the consequences; yet the
day was to come when he should look back on this action as one inspired,
in very truth, by his guardian angel.