At dinner-time she had not returned. It being Saturday, Mumford was
back early in the afternoon, and Miss Derrick's absence caused no
grief. Emmeline could play with baby in the garden, whilst her
husband smoked his pipe and looked on in the old comfortable way.
They already felt that domestic life was not quite the same with a
stranger to share it. Doubtless they would get used to the new
restraints; but Miss Derrick must not expect them to disorganise
their mealtimes on her account. Promptly at half-past seven they sat
down to dine, and had just risen from the table, when Louise
appeared.
She was in excellent spirits, without a trace of the morning's
ill-humour. No apologies! If she didn't feel quite free to come and
go, without putting people out, there would be no comfort in life. A
slice of the joint, that was all she wanted, and she would have done
in a few minutes.
'I've taken tickets for Toole's Theatre on Monday night. You must
both come. You can, can't you?'
Mumford and his wife glanced at each other. Yes, they could go; it
was very kind of Miss Derrick; but--
'That's all right, it'll be jolly. The idea struck me in the train,
as I was going up; so I took a cab from Victoria and booked the
places first thing. Third row from the front, dress circle; the best
I could do. Please let me have my dinner alone. Mrs. Mumford, I want
to tell you something afterwards.'
Clarence went round to see his friend Fentiman, with whom he usually
had a chat on Saturday evening. Emmeline was soon joined by the
guest in the drawing-room.
'There, you may read that,' said Louise, holding out a letter. 'It's
from Mr. Cobb; came yesterday, but I didn't care to talk about it
then. Yes, please read it; I want you to.'
Reluctantly, but with curiosity, Emmeline glanced over the sheet.
Mr. Cobb wrote in ignorance of Miss Derrick's having left home. It
was a plain, formal letter, giving a brief account of his doings in
Ireland, and making a request that Louise would meet him, if
possible, on Streatham Common, at three o'clock on Saturday
afternoon. And he signed himself--'Very sincerely yours.'
'I made up my mind at once,' said the girl, 'that I wouldn't meet
him. That kind of thing will have to stop. I'm not going to think
any more of him, and it's better to make him understand it at
once--isn't it?'
Emmeline heartily concurred.
'Still,' pursued the other, with an air of great satisfaction, 'I
thought I had better go home for this afternoon. Because when he
didn't see me on the Common he was pretty sure to call at the house,
and I didn't want mother or Cissy to be talking about me to him
before he had heard my own explanation.'
'Didn't you answer the letter?' asked Emmeline.
'No. I just sent a line to mother, to let her know I was coming over
to-day, so that she might stay at home. Well, and it happened just
as I thought. Mr. Cobb came to the house at half-past three. But
before that I'd had a terrible row with Cissy. That isn't a nice
expression, I know, but it really was one of our worst quarrels. Mr.
Bowling hasn't been near since I left, and Cissy is furious. She
said such things that I had to tell her very plainly what I thought
of her; and she positively foamed at the mouth! "Now look here," she
said, "if I find out that he goes to Sutton, you'll see what will
happen." "_What_ will happen?" I asked. "Father will stop your
allowance, and you'll have to get on as best you can." "Oh, very
well," I said, "in that case I shall marry Mr. Bowling." You should
have seen her rage! "You said you wouldn't marry him if he had ten
thousand a year!" she screamed. "I dare say I did; but if I've
nothing to live upon--" "You can marry your Mr. Cobb, can't you?"
And she almost cried; and I should have felt sorry for her if she
hadn't made me so angry. "No," I said, "I can't marry Mr. Cobb. And
I never dreamt of marrying Mr. Cobb. And--"'
Emmeline interposed.
'Really, Louise, that kind of talk isn't at all ladylike. What a
pity you went home.'
'Yes, I was sorry for it afterwards. I shan't go again for a long
time; I promise you I won't. However, Mr. Cobb came, and I saw him
alone. He was astonished when he heard what had been going on; he
was astonished at _me_, too--I mean, the way I spoke. I wanted him
to understand at once that there was nothing between us; I talked in
rather a--you know the sort of way.' She raised her chin slightly,
and looked down from under her eyelids. 'Oh, I assure you I behaved
quite nicely. But he got into a rage, as he always does, and began
to call me names, and I wouldn't stand it. "Mr. Cobb," I said, very
severely, "either you will conduct yourself properly, or you will
leave the house." Then he tried another tone, and said very
different things--the kind of thing one likes to hear, you know; but
I pretended that I didn't care for it a bit. "It's all over between
us then?" he shouted at last; yes, really shouted, and I'm sure
people must have heard. "All over?" I said. "But there never _was_
anything--nothing serious." "Oh, all right. Good-bye, then." And off
he rushed. And I dare say I've seen the last of him--for a time.'
'Now do try to live quietly, my dear,' said Emmeline. 'Go on with
your music, and read a little each day--'
'Yes, that's just what I'm going to do, dear Mrs. Mumford. And your
friends will be here to-morrow; it'll be so quiet and nice. And on
Monday we shall go to the theatre, just for a change. And I'm not
going to think of those people. It's all settled. I shall live very
quietly indeed.'
She banged on the piano till nearly eleven o'clock, and went off to
bed with a smile of virtuous contentment.
The guests who arrived on Sunday morning were Mr. and Mrs. Grove,
Mr. Bilton, and Mr. Dunnill. Mrs. Grove was Emmeline's elder sister,
a merry, talkative, kindly woman. Aware of the circumstances, she at
once made friends with Miss Derrick, and greatly pleased that young
lady by a skilful blending of "superior" talk with easy homeliness.
Mr. Bilton, a stockbroker's clerk, represented the better kind of
City young man--athletic, yet intelligent, spirited without
vulgarity a breezy, good-humoured, wholesome fellow. He came down on
his bicycle, and would return in the same way. Louise at once made a
resolve to learn cycling.
'I wish you lived at Sutton, Mr. Bilton. I should ask you to teach
me.'
'I'm really very sorry that I don't,' replied the young man
discreetly.
'Oh, never mind. I'll find somebody.'
The fourth arrival, Mr. Dunnill, was older and less affable. He
talked chiefly with Mr. Grove, a very quiet, somewhat careworn man;
neither of them seemed able to shake off business, but they did not
obtrude it on the company in general. The day passed pleasantly, but
in Miss Derrick's opinion, rather soberly. Doing her best to
fascinate Mr. Bilton, she felt a slight disappointment at her
inability to engross his attention, and at the civil friendliness
which he thought a sufficient reply to her gay sallies. For so
good-looking and well-dressed a man he struck her as singularly
reserved. But perhaps he was "engaged"; yes, that must be the
explanation. When the guests had left, she put a plain question to
Mrs. Mumford.
'I don't _think_ he is engaged,' answered Emmeline, who on the whole
was satisfied with Miss Derrick's demeanour throughout the day.
'Oh! But, of course, he _may_ be, without you knowing it. Or is it
always made known?'
'There's no rule about it, my dear.'
'Well, they're very nice people,' said Louise, with a little sigh.
'And I like your sister so much. I'm glad she asked me to go and see
her. Is Mr. Bilton often at her house?--Don't misunderstand me, Mrs.
Mumford. It's only that I _do_ like men's society; there's no harm,
is there? And people like Mr. Bilton are very different from those
I've known; and I want to see more of them, you know.'
'There's no harm in saying that to _me_, Louise,' replied Mrs.
Mumford. 'But pray be careful not to seem "forward." People
think--and say--such disagreeable things.'
Miss Derrick was grateful, and again gave an assurance that repose
and modesty should be the rule of her life.
At the theatre on Monday evening she exhibited a childlike enjoyment
which her companions could not but envy. The freshness of her
sensibilities was indeed remarkable, and Emmeline observed with
pleasure that her mind seemed to have a very wholesome tone. Louise
might commit follies, and be guilty of bad taste to any extent, but
nothing in her savoured of depravity.
Tuesday she spent at home, pretending to read a little, and
obviously thinking a great deal. On Wednesday morning she proposed
of a sudden that Emmeline should go up to town with her on a
shopping expedition. They had already turned over her wardrobe,
numerous articles whereof were condemned by Mrs. Mumford's taste,
and by Louise cheerfully sacrificed; she could not rest till new
purchases had been made. So, after early luncheon, they took train
to Victoria, Louise insisting that all the expenses should be hers.
By five o'clock she had laid out some fifteen pounds, vastly to her
satisfaction. They took tea at a restaurant, and reached Sutton not
long before Mumford's return.
On Friday they went to London again, to call upon Mrs. Grove. Louise
promised that this should be her last "outing" for a whole week. She
admitted a feeling of restlessness, but after to-day she would
overcome it. And that night she apologised formally to Mumford for
taking his wife so much from home.
'Please don't think I shall always be running about like this. I
feel that I'm settling down. We are going to be very comfortable and
quiet.'
And, to the surprise of her friends, more than a week went by before
she declared that a day in town was absolutely necessary. Mr.
Higgins had sent her a fresh supply of money, as there were still a
few things she needed to purchase. But this time Emmeline begged her
to go alone, and Louise seemed quite satisfied with the arrangement.
Early in the afternoon, as Mrs. Mumford was making ready to go out,
the servant announced to her that a gentleman had called to see Miss
Derrick; on learning that Miss Derrick was away, he had asked sundry
questions, and ended by requesting an interview with Mrs. Mumford.
His name was Cobb.
'Show him into the drawing-room,' said Emmeline, a trifle agitated.
'I will be down in a few moments.'
Beset by anxious anticipations, she entered the room, and saw before
her a figure not wholly unlike what she had imagined: a wiry,
resolute-looking man, with knitted brows, lips close-set, and heavy
feet firmly planted on the carpet. He was respectably dressed, but
nothing more, and in his large bare hands held a brown hat marked
with a grease spot. One would have judged him a skilled mechanic.
When he began to speak, his blunt but civil phrases were in keeping
with this impression. He had not the tone of an educated man, yet
committed no vulgar errors.
'My name is Cobb. I must beg your pardon for troubling you. Perhaps
you have heard of me from Miss Derrick?'
'Yes, Mr. Cobb, your name has been mentioned,' Emmeline replied
nervously. 'Will you sit down?'
'Thank you, I will.'
He twisted his hat about, and seemed to prepare with difficulty the
next remark, which at length burst, rather than fell, from his lips.
'I wanted to see Miss Derrick. I suppose she is still living with
you? They told me so.'
A terrible man, thought Emmeline, when roused to anger; his words
must descend like sledge-hammers. And it would not take much to
anger him. For all that, he had by no means a truculent countenance.
He was trying to smile, and his features softened agreeably enough.
The more closely she observed him, the less grew Emmeline's wonder
that Louise felt an interest in the man.
'Miss Derrick is likely to stay with us for some time, I believe.
She has only gone to town, to do some shopping.'
'I see. When I met her last she talked a good deal about you, Mrs.
Mumford, and that's why I thought I would ask to see you. You have a
good deal of influence over her.'
'Do you think so?' returned Emmeline, not displeased. 'I hope I may
use it for her good.'
'So do I. But--well, it comes to this, Mrs. Mumford. She seemed to
hint--though she didn't exactly say so--that you were advising her
to have nothing more to do with me. Of course you don't know me, and
I've no doubt you do what you think the best for her. I should feel
it a kindness if you would just tell me whether you are really
persuading her to think no more about me.'
It was an alarming challenge. Emmeline's fears returned; she half
expected an outbreak of violence. The man was growing very nervous,
and his muscles showed the working of strong emotion.
'I have given her no such advice, Mr. Cobb,' she answered, with an
attempt at calm dignity. 'Miss Derrick's private affairs don't at
all concern me. In such matters as this she is really quite old
enough to judge for herself.'
'That's what _I_ should have said,' remarked Mr. Cobb sturdily. 'I
hope you'll excuse me; I don't wish to make myself offensive. After
what she said to me when we met last, I suppose most men would just
let her go her own way. But--but somehow I can't do that. The thing
is, I can't trust what she says; I don't believe she knows her own
mind. And so long as you tell me that you're not interfering--I
mean, that you don't think it right to set her against me--'
'I assure you, nothing of the kind.'
There was a brief silence, then Cobb's voice again sounded with
blunt emphasis.
'We're neither of us very good-tempered. We've known each other
about a year, and we must have quarrelled about fifty times.'
'Do you think, then,' ventured the hostess, 'that it would ever be
possible for you to live peacefully together?'
'Yes, I do,' was the robust answer. 'It would be a fight for the
upper hand, but I know who'd get it, and after that things would be
all right.'
Emmeline could not restrain a laugh, and her visitor joined in it
with a heartiness which spoke in his favour.
'I promise you, Mr. Cobb, that I will do nothing whatever against
your interests.'
'That's very kind of you, and it's all I wanted to know.'
He stood up. Emmeline, still doubtful how to behave, asked him if he
would call on another day, when Miss Derrick might be at home.
'It's only by chance I was able to get here this afternoon,' he
replied. 'I haven't much time to go running about after her, and
that's where I'm at a disadvantage. I don't know whether there's
anyone else, and I'm not asking you to tell me, if you know. Of
course I have to take my chance; but so long as you don't speak
against me--and she thinks a great deal of your advice--'
'I'm very glad to be assured of that. All I shall do, Mr. Cobb, is
to keep before her mind the duty of behaving straightforwardly.'
'That's the thing! Nobody can ask more than that.'
Emmeline hesitated, but could not dismiss him without shaking hands.
That he did not offer to do so until invited, though he betrayed no
sense of social inferiority, seemed another point in his favour.