while, scribbled lightly in pencil underneath was the address 'Grand
Hotel.'
I read the brief letter through again,--it was simple enough,--expressed
with clearness and civility. There was nothing remarkable about
it,--nothing whatever; yet it seemed to me surcharged with meaning.
Why, I could not imagine. A curious fascination kept my eyes fastened on
the characteristic bold handwriting, and made me fancy I should like the
man who penned it. How the wind roared!--and how that violin next door
wailed like the restless spirit of some forgotten musician in torment!
My brain swam and my heart ached heavily,--the drip drip of the rain
outside sounded like the stealthy footfall of some secret spy upon my
movements. I grew irritable and nervous,--a foreboding of evil somehow
darkened the bright consciousness of my sudden good fortune. Then an
impulse of shame possessed me,--shame that this foreign prince, if such
he were, with limitless wealth at his back, should be coming to visit
me,--_me_, now a millionaire,--in my present wretched lodging. Already,
before I had touched my riches, I was tainted by the miserable vulgarity
of seeking to pretend I had never been really poor, but only embarrassed
by a little temporary difficulty! If I had had a sixpence about me,
(which I had not) I should have sent a telegram to my approaching
visitor to put him off.
"But in any case," I said aloud, addressing myself to the empty room and
the storm-echoes--"I will not meet him to-night. I'll go out and leave
no message,--and if he comes he will think I have not yet had his
letter. I can make an appointment to see him when I am better lodged,
and dressed more in keeping with my present position,--in the meantime,
nothing is easier than to keep out of this would-be benefactor's way."
As I spoke, the flickering lamp gave a dismal crackle and went out,
leaving me in pitch darkness. With an exclamation more strong than
reverent, I groped about the room for matches, or failing them, for my
hat and coat,--and I was still engaged in a fruitless and annoying
search, when I caught a sound of galloping horses' hoofs coming to an
abrupt stop in the street below. Surrounded by black gloom, I paused and
listened. There was a slight commotion in the basement,--I heard my
landlady's accents attuned to nervous civility, mingling with the
mellow tones of a deep masculine voice,--then steps, firm and even,
ascended the stairs to my landing.
"The devil is in it!" I muttered vexedly--"Just like my wayward
luck!--here comes the very man I meant to avoid!"