Part 19 (2/2)

She still persisted. ”It will be of the greatest use,” she went on. ”He will let me go home again, and he will not object to your coming to see me. He doesn't like to be despised and set at defiance--who does? Be patient, Amelius; and I will persuade him to expect less money from you--only what you may earn, dear, with your talents, long before ten years have pa.s.sed.” She waited for a word of reply which might show that she had encouraged him a little. He only smiled. ”You talk of loving me,” she said, drawing back from him with a look of reproach; ”and you don't even believe what I say to you.” She stopped, and looked behind her with a faint cry of alarm. Hurried footsteps were audible on the other side of the evergreens that screened them. Amelius stepped back to a turn in the path, and discovered Phoebe.

”Don't stay a moment longer, sir!” cried the girl. ”I've been to the house--and Mrs. Ormond isn't there--and n.o.body knows where she is. Get out by the gate, sir, while you have the chance.”

Amelius returned to Regina. ”I mustn't get the girl into a sc.r.a.pe,” he said. ”You know where to write to me. Good-bye.”

Regina made a sign to the maid to retire. Amelius had never taken leave of her as he was taking leave of her now. She forgot the fervent embrace and the daring kisses--she was desperate at the bare idea of losing him.

”Oh, Amelius, don't doubt that I love you! Say you believe I love you!

Kiss me before you go!”

He kissed her--but, ah, not as he had kissed her before. He said the words she wanted him to say--but only to please her, not with all his heart. She let him go; reproaches would be wasted at that moment.

Phoebe found her pale and immovable, rooted to the spot on which they had parted. ”Dear, dear me, miss, what's gone wrong?”

And her mistress answered wildly, in words that had never before pa.s.sed her placid lips, ”O Phoebe, I wish I was dead!”

Such was the impression left on the mind of Regina by the interview in the shrubbery.

The impression left on the mind of Amelius was stated in equally strong language, later in the day. His American friend asked innocently for news, and was answered in these terms:

”Find something to occupy my mind, Rufus, or I shall throw the whole thing over and go to the devil.”

The wise man from New England was too wise to trouble Amelius with questions, under these circ.u.mstances. ”Is that so?” was all he said.

Then he put his hand in his pocket, and, producing a letter, laid it quietly on the table.

”For me?” Amelius asked.

”You wanted something to occupy your mind,” the wily Rufus answered.

”There 'tis.”

Amelius read the letter. It was dated, ”Hampden Inst.i.tution.” The secretary invited Amelius, in highly complimentary terms, to lecture, in the hall of the Inst.i.tution, on Christian Socialism as taught and practised in the Community at Tadmor. He was offered two-thirds of the profits derived from the sale of places, and was left free to appoint his own evening (at a week's notice) and to issue his own advertis.e.m.e.nts. Minor details were reserved to be discussed with the secretary, when the lecturer had consented to the arrangement proposed to him.

Having finished the letter, Amelius looked at his friend. ”This is your doing,” he said.

Rufus admitted it, with his customary candour. He had a letter of introduction to the secretary, and he had called by appointment that morning. The Inst.i.tution wanted something new to attract the members and the public. Having no present intention of lecturing himself, he had thought of Amelius, and had spoken his thought. ”I mentioned,” Rufus added slyly, ”that I didn't reckon you would mount the platform. But he's a sanguine creature, that secretary--and he said he'd try.”

”Why should I say No?” Amelius asked, a little irritably. ”The secretary pays me a compliment, and offers me an opportunity of spreading our principles. Perhaps,” he added, more quietly, after a moment's reflection, ”you thought I might not be equal to the occasion--and, in that case, I don't say you were wrong.”

Rufus shook his head. ”If you had pa.s.sed your life in this decrepit little island,” he replied, ”I might have doubted you, likely enough.

But Tadmor's situated in the United States. If they don't practise the boys in the art of orating, don't you tell me there's an American citizen with a voice in _that_ society. Guess again, my son. You won't?

Well, then, 'twas uncle Farnaby I had in my mind. I said to myself--not to the secretary--Amelius is bound to consider uncle Farnaby. Oh, my!

what would uncle Farnaby say?”

The hot temper of Amelius took fire instantly. ”What the devil do I care for Farnaby's opinions?” he burst out. ”If there's a man in England who wants the principles of Christian Socialism beaten into his thick head, it's Farnaby. Are you going to see the secretary again?”

”I might look in,” Rufus answered, ”in the course of the evening.”

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