When I posted my last letter to you from New York,
I meant to come back as soon as I could get money
enough to pay my passage. Since then I have gone
through a miserable time, idle for the most part,
ill for a few weeks, and occasionally trying to write
something that editors would pay for. But after
all I had to borrow. It has brought me home (steerage,
if you know what that means), and now I must earn
more.
If we were to meet, I might be able to say something
else. I can’t write it. Let me hear
from you, if you think me worth a letter.—
Yours ever, dear girl,
For a quarter of an hour she stood with this sheet
open, as though still reading. Her face was void
of emotion; she had a vacant look, cheerless, but
with no more decided significance.
Then she remembered that Samuel Barmby was waiting
for her downstairs. He might have something to
say which really concerned her. Better see him
at once and get rid of him. With slow step she
descended to the dining-room. The letter, folded
and rolled, she carried in her hand.
‘I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr.
Barmby.’
‘Don’t mention it. Will you sit down?’
‘Yes, of course.’ She spoke abstractedly,
and took a seat not far from him. ‘I was
just going out, but—there’s no hurry.’
’I hardly know how to begin. Perhaps I
had better prepare you by saying that I have received
very strange information.’
His air was magisterial; he subdued his voice to a
note of profound solemnity.
‘What sort of information?’ asked Nancy
vaguely, her brows knitted in a look rather of annoyance
than apprehension.
‘Very strange indeed.’
‘You have said that already.’
Her temper was failing. She felt a nervous impulse
to behave rudely, to declare the contempt it was always
difficult to disguise when talking with Barmby.
’I repeat it, because you seem to have no idea
what I am going to speak of. I am the last person
to find pleasure in such a disagreeable duty as is
now laid upon me. In that respect, I believe
you will do me justice.’
‘Will you speak plainly? This roundabout
talk is intolerable.’
Samuel drew himself up, and regarded her with offended
dignity. He had promised himself no small satisfaction
from this interview, had foreseen its salient points.
His mere aspect would be enough to subdue Nancy, and
when he began to speak she would tremble before him.
Such a moment would repay him for the enforced humility
of years. Perhaps she would weep; she might even
implore him to be merciful. How to act in that
event he had quite made up his mind. But all
such anticipations were confused by Nancy’s singular
behaviour. She seemed, in truth, not to understand
the hints which should have overwhelmed her.
More magisterial than ever, he began to speak with
slow emphasis.
