“No, I don’t think I could do that, just
at present. It unsettled me sadly when I did
again see her sweet face at Graveleigh, and she was
still afraid of me too! that was a sharp pang.”
“She ought to know what you have done for her,
and will.”
“On no account, sir; promise me that. I
should feel mean if I humbled them,—that
way.”
“I understand, though I will not as yet make
you any positive promise. Meanwhile, if you are
staying in town, lodge with me; my landlady can find
you a room.”
“Thank you heartily, sir; but I go back by the
evening train; and, bless me! how late it is now!
I must wish you good-by. I have some commissions
to do for my aunt, and I must buy a new doll for Susey.”
“Susey is the name of the little girl with the
flower-ball?”
“Yes. I must run off now; I feel quite
light at heart seeing you again and finding that you
receive me still so kindly, as if we were equals.”
“Ah, Tom, I wish I was your equal,—nay,
half as noble as Heaven has made you!”
Tom laughed incredulously, and went his way.
“This mischievous passion of love,” said
Kenelm to himself, “has its good side, it seems,
after all. If it was nearly making a wild beast
of that brave fellow,—nay, worse than wild
beast, a homicide doomed to the gibbet,—so,
on the other hand, what a refined, delicate, chivalrous
nature of gentleman it has developed out of the stormy
elements of its first madness! Yes, I will go
and look at this new-married couple. I dare say
they are already snarling and spitting at each other
like cat and dog. Moleswich is within reach of
a walk.”
TWO days after the interview recorded in the last
chapter of the previous Book, Travers, chancing to
call at Kenelm’s lodgings, was told by his servant
that Mr. Chillingly had left London, alone, and had
given no orders as to forwarding letters. The
servant did not know where he had gone, or when he
would return.
Travers repeated this news incidentally to Cecilia,
and she felt somewhat hurt that he had not written
her a line respecting Tom’s visit. She,
however, guessed that he had gone to see the Somerses,
and would return to town in a day or so. But weeks
passed, the season drew to its close, and of Kenelm
Chillingly she saw or heard nothing: he had wholly
vanished from the London world. He had but written
a line to his servant, ordering him to repair to Exmundham
and await him there, and enclosing him a check to
pay outstanding bills.
