During the journey to town Adeline would talk of nothing but her
intention to taste all the amusements which London had to offer. She
asked numberless questions with the persistency of an inquisitive
child, while Lottie modestly hid herself behind a copy of "Tit Bits,"
which had been bought for her.
"Now I will read out the names of the plays advertised in the
'Telegraph,'" she said, "and you must tell me what each is like, and
whether the actors are good, and the actresses pretty, and things of
that kind."
Richard entered with zest into the conversation. He was in a boisterous
mood, and found her very willing to be diverted. Once, when he used
a technical term, she stopped him: "Remember, I have never been to a
theatre." On Sunday she had made the same remark several times. It
seemed as if she liked to insist on the point.
The morning was delicious, full of light and freshness, and the torpid
countryside through which the train swept at full speed suggested a
gentle yet piquant contrast to the urban, gaslight themes which they
were discussing. Though the sun shone with power, Adeline would not
have the blinds drawn, but sometimes she used the newspaper for a
shade, or bent her head so that the broad brim of her hat might come
between her eyes and the sunshine. After an hour the talk slackened
somewhat. As Richard, from his seat opposite, looked now at Adeline and
now at the landscape, a perfect content stole over him. He wished that
the distance to London could have been multiplied tenfold, and rejoiced
in every delay. Then he began to miss the purport of her questions, and
she had to repeat them. He was examining his heart. "Is this love?" his
thoughts ran. "Do I actually love her now,--_now_?"
When the train stopped at New Cross, and Richard said that they would
be at London Bridge in a few minutes, she asked when he would go down
to Carteret Street.
"Any time," he said.
"To-morrow night?"
He had hoped she would fix the same evening. "When is the theatre-going
to commence?" he queried.
She laughed vaguely: "Soon."
"Suppose I book seats for the Comedy?"
"We will talk about it to-morrow night."
It appeared that her desire for the relaxations of town life had
suddenly lost its instancy.
Immediately he reached the office he wrote a note to Mr. Clayton
Vernon. Some three hundred pounds was coming to him under the will of
William Vernon, and he had purposed to let Mr. Clayton Vernon invest
this sum for him; but the letter asked that a cheque for £25 should be
sent by return of post. Later in the afternoon he went to a tailor in
Holborn, and ordered two suits of clothes.
He grew restless and introspective, vainly endeavouring to analyse
his feeling towards Adeline. He wished that he had himself suggested
that he should call on her that night, instead of allowing her to
name Tuesday. When he got home, he looked at the letter which he had
received from her a fortnight before, and then, enclosing it in a
clean envelope, put it away carefully in his writing-case. He felt
that he must preserve all her letters. The evening dragged itself out
with desolating tedium. Once he went downstairs intending to go to the
theatre, but returned before he had unlatched the front door.
Mrs. Rowbotham laid his supper that evening, and he began to tell her
about his holiday, mentioning, with fictitious _naïveté_, that he
had spent it in the company of a young lady. Soon he gave the whole
history of his acquaintance with the Akeds. She warmly praised his
kindness towards Adeline.
"My Lily is keeping company with a young man," she said, after a pause;
"a respectable young chap he is, a bus-conductor. This is his night
off, and they're gone to the Promenade Concert. I didn't like her going
at first, but, bless you, you have to give in. Young folk are young
folk, all the world over.... But I must be getting downstairs again. I
have to do everything myself to-night. Ah! when a girl falls in love,
she forgets her mother. It's natural, I suppose. Well, Mr. Larch, it
will be your turn soon, I hope." With that she left the room quickly,
missing Richard's hurried disclaimer.
"So you're engaged, Lily," he said to the girl next morning.
Lily blushed and nodded; and as he looked at her eyes, he poignantly
longed for the evening.