On arriving in his office upstairs, George seated himself comfortably,
and read Miss Fairbrother's note for the sixth or seventh time. He was
not one of those men who are prostrated by a sudden change of fortune,
but there were materials in this epistle with which even the most
unimaginative man might build castles in the air. Taking it word for
word, it was at the least most soothing to the heart of George. The
note was as follows:--
"DEAR MR. EARLY,
"How can I thank you for your prompt and brave assistance last
evening? You saved my life. I shudder to think of what might have
happened to me had you not been there. I am sure I should have been
killed. I am too much upset to come to the office to-day. Please
come to Brunswick Terrace this afternoon, that I may thank you
personally for the great service you did me.
"The enclosed note for Mr. Parrott directs him to consult you on
all affairs of the firm while I am away. You must take my place
until I am quite well; you know everything about the business, as I
am well aware by the valuable assistance you have so often given
me.
"Please do not fail to come this afternoon.
"Always yours gratefully,
"ELLEN FAIRBROTHER."
George lunched that day at the Carlton, and from there proceeded in a
hansom cab to Brunswick Terrace.
Miss Fairbrother had elected to remove her aunt for the time being, so
that the interview was quite private.
The ordeal of being thanked by a rich young lady whose life you have
saved must be a most embarrassing one to most men; to George it did not
prove so. He found himself much more at ease than he had expected to
be. The embarrassment was all on Miss Fairbrother's side.
She was not sparing in her praise of what she called "his noble
action," but, though her voice had the ring of honesty, and her words
were sincere, she found it easier to look at the pictures and the
furniture than at George Early. Whenever she caught his eye, the pink
glow in her cheeks deepened, and her fingers toyed nervously with the
lace on her gown. Any young man with a proper regard for the delicate
sensibilities of the fair sex would, on finding a young lady so
prettily confused, make a valiant effort to put her at her ease. This
George did by assuming a very modest demeanour and concentrating his
gaze on the hearthrug. It was effectual, for it gave Miss Fairbrother
confidence, and led her to speak of the valuable help George had given
to the firm since he had accepted the office of junior clerk, facts
which surprised George, and were a testimonial to Miss Fairbrother's
skill as an inventor.
"I feel sure," she said impulsively, "that some day you will be a
partner in the firm."
"No," said George, modestly; "I shouldn't think so."
"Oh, but I am sure you will! You are so--you know so many things.
Doesn't it surprise the others to find how much you know?"
George valiantly suppressed a sudden fit of coughing.
"Now you come to mention it," he said, "I think it does."
"I'm sure it must do," said Miss Fairbrother, warmly. "I think courage
and cleverness are things that people cannot help noticing. And
unselfishness; think how noble it is to do things for others!"
"Splendid!" said George. "But you can't help it if it's born in you."
"It isn't always that," said Miss Fairbrother. "Some men are very
brave. They give their lives up to benefiting their fellow-creatures,
and watching over them as if they were helpless little children."
"Yes," said George, turning his imagination to the past; "my old father
used to say, 'Never mind yourself, George; others first--others first,
m' lad.'"
"I knew it," cried Miss Fairbrother, with a brightening of the eye that
George didn't fail to notice. "You've been following that good advice
in spite of all obstacles. Oh, if only everybody would fight and
overcome difficulties like that!"
"It's been a bit hard," said George, reminiscently.
"But think of the victory," cried Miss Fairbrother, "when you look back
on what you have done."
"Ah! If people only knew."
"Yes," a little doubtfully; "but of course you don't exactly want
people to know."
"That's just it; they mustn't know a word about it."
"If they did?" she breathed.
"It wouldn't do," said George; "they wouldn't all be so grateful as
you."
Miss Fairbrother's fingers grew nervous again, and the point of one
tiny little shoe attracted all her attention. George, looking out of
the corner of one eye, felt that matters were progressing most
satisfactorily.
"I suppose," said Miss Fairbrother, softly, without turning her head,
"you've--you've saved other people before?"
George at once became so modest and so concerned about the inside
lining of his hat, that Miss Fairbrother looked up, and added quickly--
"You have; I'm sure you have. Do tell me about it! Oh, I should like to
know!"
George took out his handkerchief and rubbed his nose very hard, a
performance that may have been actuated by emotion or equivocation.
"I don't want to talk about it," he said, with a suspicion of huskiness
in his throat.
"Perhaps they were very ungrateful," Miss Fairbrother observed
sympathetically.
"That's it," said George; "some people don't deserve to be saved."
"I'm afraid I haven't given you much but my thanks."
"Don't mention it. It's a pleasure to save any one like you. I'd like
to do it every day."
Miss Fairbrother suddenly became so interested in something she saw
outside the window that only one pink ear was visible to her rescuer.
"When I think of yesterday," continued George, leaning forward and
speaking slowly, "I can't understand why I called up that cab so soon
and put you in it, and why I didn't stand there holding you."
He paused a moment, but Miss Fairbrother never moved. The pink ear
seemed to be growing pinker. George went on daringly--
"That ride home in the cab was a ride I shall always think about. I
don't think I took my eyes off you once all the way. How could I,
when----"
Here the conversation, which threatened to take an alarming turn, was
interrupted by the sudden entrance of a maid with tea.
That interval of a few minutes so destroyed the continuity of George
Early's argument that he decided to abandon it. Miss Fairbrother,
having satisfied her curiosity through the window pane, immediately on
the entrance of the tea affected to forget what he had been talking of,
and invited him with an uncommon lightness of spirits to draw nearer to
the small tea-table.
Whatever George Early may have thought of the lady's charms on the
previous evening, he was now convinced that they were many and various.
In the office she was usually bored and a little bewildered, and at
times inclined to be cross about business problems. Her speech was
frequently plaintive, and her hair out of curl. Here, with all the
worries of business left behind, she was demure, pretty, and altogether
charming. Her eyes sparkled, and the little frowns that were apt to
pucker her fair brow gave place to smiling lines around the mouth. In
that big office she looked out of place, a frail and worried little
body; in this drawing-room she was in perfect harmony with her
surroundings, while George seemed out of place there. He felt out of
place too, at first; but being of a nature that easily adapts itself to
circumstances, he was soon chattering as pleasantly as if he'd been
used to drawing-rooms all his life. It was evident that Miss
Fairbrother approved of him, and felt satisfied that her rescuer was a
young man of noble ideas and a true hero. She was probably not unaware
that he was also a good-looking young man, with well-brushed hair, and
a smile that was not without charm. These things she had doubtless
overlooked before in the worries of business.
George was not a man to miss opportunities, in spite of the adverse
criticism of his fellow-workers in the firm of Fairbrother. Having
created a good impression, he knew that the next thing to do was to
make it lasting. Afternoon tea and pleasant conversation with a girl
you have rescued from an untimely death are not among the unsweetened
things of this world, but George saw fit to bring his visit to an early
close by evincing an earnest desire to return to Fairbrothers' on
business which could not be neglected.
Miss Fairbrother approved of his close application to the firm's
affairs, but was not sure that she had thanked him sufficiently for
what he had done for her. George assured her that by supplying him with
a final cup of tea the debt would be fully paid.
Whereat Miss Fairbrother laughed--a sweet, tinkling, little darling of
a laugh.
Whereat George laughed--a polite, hearty, good-humoured laugh.
What more natural than that George's big manly hand should press Miss
Fairbrother's little finger in taking that cup of tea, and that Miss
Fairbrother should blush and hurriedly pour out an extra cup for
herself? What more natural than that George should look at her out of
the corner of his eye, and find her looking at him out of the corner of
her eye; and that they should both be ashamed at having caught each
other in the very act? Nothing more natural, surely.
But George knew what a good many men would not have known--that this
was the very moment to go. And go he did.
"Good-bye," said Miss Fairbrother, smiling and holding out a very
pretty white hand; "I'm very grateful to you."
"Good-bye," said George, taking the pretty hand in his; "I'm glad I was
there."
George walked away in a most satisfied frame of mind. He halted
half-way up the terrace and looked back at the great portico and
massive windows of the Fairbrother mansion.
"Nice house that," he said; "nice girl too--devilish nice girl!"
Then he called a hansom and drove to Liverpool Street, for, urgent as
the firm's business happened to be, his own at the moment was of more
consequence.
That night when Gray got home his lodger's room was vacant; George
Early had moved into West End lodgings.