It may not perhaps surprise the reader to learn that after Lilly
Blythe's return to town, I did not prosecute my studies with as much
enthusiasm as before. In fact I divided my attentions pretty equally
between Lilly and chemistry.
Now, I am not prone to become sentimentally talkative about my own
affairs, but as courtship, and love, and that sort of thing are
undoubted and important elements in the chemistry of human affairs, and
as they influenced me and those around me to some extent, I cannot avoid
making reference to them, but I promise the reader to do so only as far
as appears necessary for the elucidation of my story.
First, then, although I knew that my prospects of success as a partner
of Dr McTougall were most encouraging, I felt that it would be foolish
to think of marriage until my position was well established and my
income adequate. I therefore strove with all my might to check the flow
of my thoughts towards Miss Blythe. As well might I have striven to
restrain the flow of Niagara. True love cannot be stemmed! In my case,
however, the proverb was utterly falsified, for my true love _did_ "run
smooth." More than that, it ran fast--very fast indeed, so much so that
I was carried, as it were, on the summit of a rushing flood-tide into
the placid harbour of Engagement. The anchorage in that harbour is with
many people uncertain. With Lilly and me it was not so. The
ground-tackle was good; it had caught hold of a rock and held on.
It happened thus. After many weeks of struggling on my part to keep out
of Miss Blythe's way, and to prevent the state of my feelings from being
observed by her--struggles which I afterwards found to my confusion had
been quite obvious to her--I found myself standing alone, one Sunday
afternoon, in the doctor's drawing-room, meditating on the joys of
childhood, as exemplified by thunderous blows on the floor above and
piercing shouts of laughter. The children had been to church and were
working off the steam accumulated there. Suddenly there was a dead
silence, which I knew to be the result of a meal. The meal was, I may
add, the union of a late dinner with an early tea. It was
characteristic of Sundays in the McTougall nursery.
The thought of this union turned my mind into another channel. Just
then Miss Blythe entered. She looked so radiant that I forgot myself,
forgot my former struggles, my good resolutions--everything except
herself--and proposed on the spot!
I was rejected--of course! More than that, I was stunned! Hope had
told me many flattering tales. Indeed, I had felt so sure, from many
little symptoms, that Lilly had a strong regard for me--to say the
least--that I was overwhelmed, not only by my rejection, but by the
thought of my foolish self-assurance.
"I don't wonder that you look upon me as a presumptuous, vain,
contemptible fellow," said I, in the bitterness of my soul.
"But I do not regard you in that light," said Lilly, with a faint smile,
and then, hesitatingly, she looked down at the carpet.
"In what light do you regard me, Miss Blythe?" said I, recovering a
little hope, and speaking vehemently.
"Really, Dr Mellon, you take me by surprise; your manner--so abrupt--
so--"
"Oh! never mind manner, dear Miss Blythe," said I, seizing her hand, and
forcibly detaining it. "You are the soul of truth; tell me, is there
any hope for me?--_can_ you care for me?"
"Dr Mellon," she said, drawing her hand firmly away, "I cannot, should
not reply. You do not know all the--the circumstances of my life--my
poverty, my solitary condition in the world--my--my--"
"Miss Blythe," I exclaimed, in desperation, "if you were as poor as a--
a--church rat, as solitary as--as--Adam before the advent of Eve, I
would count it my chief joy, and--"
"Hallo! Mellon, hi! I say! where are you?" shouted the voice of the
doctor at that moment from below stairs. "Here's Dumps been in the
laboratory, and capsized some of the chemicals!"
"Coming, sir!" I shouted; then tenderly, though hurriedly, to Miss
Blythe, "You will let me resume this subject at--"
"Hallo! look sharp!" from below.
"Yes, yes, I'll be down directly!--Dear Miss Blythe, if you only knew--"
"Why, the dog's burning all over--help me!" roared the doctor.
Miss Blythe blushed and laughed. How could she help it? I hastily
kissed her hand, and fled from the room.
That was the whole affair. There was not enough, strictly speaking, to
form a ground of hope; but somehow I knew that it was all right. In the
laboratory I found Dumps smoking, and the doctor pouring water from the
tap on his dishevelled body. He was not hurt, and little damage was
done; but as I sat in my room talking to him that evening, I could not
help reproaching him with having been the means of breaking off one of
the most important interviews of my life.
"However, Dumps," I continued, "your good services far outweigh your
wicked deeds, and whatever you may do in the future, I will never forget
that you were the means of introducing me to that angel, Lilly Blythe."
The angel in question went that Sunday evening at seven o'clock, as was
her wont, to a Bible class which she had started for the instruction of
some of the poor neglected boys and lads who idled about in the dreary
back streets of our aristocratic neighbourhood. The boys had become so
fond of her that they were eager to attend, and usually assembled round
the door of the class-room before the hour.
My _protege_, Robin Slidder, was of course one of her warmest adherents.
He was standing that night apart from the other boys, contemplating the
proceedings of two combative sparrows which quarrelled over a crumb of
bread on the pavement, and had just come to the conclusion that men and
sparrows had some qualities in common, when he was attracted by a low
whistle, and, looking up, beheld the Slogger peeping round a
neighbouring corner.
"Hallo! Slog--Villum I mean; how are you? Come along. Vell, I _am_
glad to see you, for, d'you know, arter you failed me that day at the
Black Bull, I have bin givin' you a pretty bad character, an' callin'
you no end o' bad names."
"Is that what your `angel' teaches you, Robin?"
"Vell, not exactly, but you'll hear wot she teaches for yourself
to-night, I 'ope. Come, I'm right glad to see you, Villum. What was it
that prevented you that day, eh?"
When the Slogger had explained and cleared his character, Robin asked
him eagerly if he had ascertained anything further about the girl whom
he and Brassey had robbed.
"Of course I have," said the Slogger, "and it's a curious suckumstance
that 'er place of abode--so Sally says--is in the Vest End, not wery far
from here. She gave me the street and the name, but wasn't quite sure
of the number."
"Vell, come along, let's hear all about it," said Robin impatiently.
"Wy, wot's all your 'urry?" returned the Slogger slowly; "I ain't goin'
away till I've heerd wot your angel's got to say, you know. Besides, I
must go arter your meeting's over an watch the 'ouse till I see the gal
an' make sure that it's her, for Sally may have bin mistook, you know."
"You don't know her name, do you?" asked Robin; "it wasn't Edie Willis,
now, was it?"
"'Ow should _I_ know 'er name?" answered the Slogger. "D'you think I
stopped to inquire w'en I 'elped to relieve 'er of 'er propity?"
"Ah, I suppose not. Vell, I suppose you've no objection to my goin' to
watch along wi' you."
"None wotsomever; on'y remember, if it do turn out to be 'er, you won't
betray me. Honour bright! She may be revengeful, you know, an' might
'ave me took up if she got 'old of me."
Robin Slidder faithfully and earnestly pledged himself. While he was
speaking there was a general movement among the lads and boys towards
the class-room, for Miss Blythe was seen coming towards them. The two
friends moved with the rest. Just as he was about to enter the door,
Robin missed his companion, and, looking back, saw him bending down, and
holding his sides as if in pain.
"Wot's wrong now?" he inquired, returning to him.
"Oh! I'm took so bad," said the Slogger, looking very red, and rubbing
himself; "a old complaint as I thought I was cured of. Oh, dear! you'll
'ave to excuge me, Robin. I'll go an' take a turn, an' come in if I
gits better. If not, I'll meet you round the corner arter it's over."
So saying, the Slogger, turning round, walked quickly away, and his
little friend entered the class-room in a state of mind pendulating
between disgust and despair, for he had no expectation of seeing the
slippery Slogger again that night.
When the meeting was over, Miss Blythe returned home. I saw her enter
the library. No one else was there, I knew. The gas had not yet been
lighted, and only a faint flicker from the fire illumined the room.
Unable to bear the state of uncertainty under which my mind still
laboured, I resolved to make assurance doubly sure, or quit the house--
and England--for ever!
I spare the reader the details. Suffice it to say that after much
entreaty, I got her to admit that she loved me, but she refused to
accept me until she had told me her whole history.
"Then I'm sure of you now," said I, in triumph; "for, be your history
what it may, I'll never give you up, dearest Lilly--"
"Don't call me Lilly," she said in a low, quiet tone; "it is only a pet
name which the little ones here gave me on my first coming to them.
Call me Edith."
"I will," said I, with enthusiasm, "a far more beautiful name. I'll--"
"Hallo! hi! Mellon, are you there?"
For the second time that day Dr McTougall interrupted me, but I was
proof against annoyance now.
"Yes, I am here," I shouted, running downstairs. "Surely Dumps is not
burning himself again--eh?"
"Oh no," returned my friend, with a laugh--"only a telegram. However,
it's important enough to require prompt attention. The Gordons in
Bingley Manor--you know them--telegraph me to run down immediately; old
lady ill. Now, it unfortunately happens that I have an engagement this
evening which positively cannot be put off, so I must send you.
Besides, I know well enough what it is. They're easily alarmed, and I'm
convinced it is just the old story. However, the summons must be
obeyed. You will go for me. The train starts in half an hour. You
will have plenty of time to catch it, if you make haste. You'll have to
stay all night. No return train till to-morrow, being an out-of-the-way
place. There, off with you. Put the telegram in your pocket for the
address."
So saying, the doctor put on his hat and left the house.
Summoning Robin Slidder, I bade him pack a few things into my
travelling-bag while I wrote a note. When he had finished he told me of
his interview with the Slogger. I was greatly interested, and asked if
he had gone to see his friend after the meeting.
"No, sir, I didn't. I meant to, but Miss Blythe wanted me to walk 'ome
with 'er, it was so dark, an' w'en I went back he had gone."
"Pity, Robin--a great pity," said I, hastily strapping up my bag, "but
no doubt he'll come here again to see you.--Now, don't forget to take
over that parcel of tea and sugar, etcetera, to Mrs Willis. Go as soon
as you can." Saying this, I left the house.
The new residence of the old woman being now so near to Hoboy Crescent
the parcel was soon delivered, and Robin officiated at the opening of
it, also at the preparing and consuming of some of its contents. Of
course he chatted vigorously, as was his wont, but was particularly
careful to make not the most distant allusion to the Slogger or his
reports, being anxious not to arouse her hopes until he should have some
evidence that they were on a true scent. Indeed, he was so fearful of
letting slip some word or remark on the subject and thereby awakening
suspicion and giving needless pain, that he abstained from all reference
to the meeting of that evening, and launched out instead into wonderful
and puzzling theological speculations, of which he was very fond.
Meanwhile I was carried swiftly into the country. The lamp in my
carriage was too dim to permit of reading; I therefore wrapped myself in
my rug and indulged in pleasant meditations.
It was past midnight when I arrived at the station for Bingley Manor,
where I found a gig awaiting me. A sharp drive of half an hour and I
was at the mansion door.
Dr McTougall was right. There was little the matter with old Mrs
Gordon, but the family were nervous, and rich--hence my visit. I did
what was necessary for the patient, comforted the rest by my presence,
had a sound night's rest, an early breakfast, a pleasant drive in the
fresh frosty air, and a brief wait of five minutes, when the punctual
train came up.
There is something inexpressibly delightful in a ride, on a sharp frosty
morning, in an express train. I have always felt a wild bounding
sensation of joy in rapid motion. The pace at which we went that
morning was exceptionally charming. Had I known that the engine-driver
was intoxicated perhaps it might not have been quite so exhilarating,
but I did not know that. I sat comfortably in my corner thinking of
Edith, and gazing with placid benignity at the frosted trees and bushes
which sparkled in the red wintry sun.
Yes, it was a glorious ride! I never had a better. The part of the
country through which we passed was lovely. One can always gaze
comfortably at the _distant_ landscape from a railway carriage, however
great the speed. As for the immediate foreground, it reminded me of a
race--houses, trees, farms, towns, villages, hamlets, horses, sheep,
cattle, poultry, hayricks, brickfields, were among the competitors in
that race. They rushed in mad confusion to the rear. I exulted in the
pace. Not so a stout elderly gentleman in the opposite corner, who
evidently disliked it--so true is it that "one man's meat is another's
poison."
"There is no reason to fear, sir," said I, with a smile, by way of
reassuring him. "This is a most excellently managed line--one never
hears of accidents on it."
"Too fast just now, anyhow," returned the elderly gentleman testily.
Just then the whistle was heard sounding violently.
"That is a sign of safety," said I; "shows that they are on the alert."
A severe application of the brakes caused me to stop abruptly, and the
elderly man to seize the arms of his seat with a convulsive grasp.
Suddenly there was a mighty crash. The sensations in my mind that
followed were suggestive of cannons, rockets, bombs, fireworks,
serpents, shooting-stars, and tumbling _debris_. Then--all was dark and
silent as the grave!