Part 19 (1/2)
”In that case,” he remarked, ”I suppose it's no use showing you anything written by your Uncle William.”
Trew came at a run, saving her the necessity of thinking of an answer.
Mr. Henry was now on the arrival platform, right across where a finger pointed; Gertie was to wait until a scarlet handkerchief showed itself, and she begged him very earnestly not to give the signal unless it appeared to be well justified. A train, that had received no education in the art of reticence, came to an intervening set of lines, and Gertie's anxiety increased; she hurried down the platform to a point from which it was possible to see the meeting. Henry was engaged in conversation with a Great Western official; Mr. Trew, in going past, turned and, with a great air of wonder, recognized him. Gertie noted with satisfaction that Henry's greeting was hearty and unrestrained.
Mr. Trew indicated a superior carriage standing near; she knew, from his gestures, that he was describing the uncovered conveyances recalled from his early youth.
”Oh, do make haste!” she urged under her breath.
They moved a few steps together, and Henry interrupted conversation with an inquiry. Mr. Trew, astonished to the extent of taking off his hat, gave a wave with it in the direction of Platform Number One, and Henry spoke eagerly. Mr. Trew took out his scarlet handkerchief, rubbed his face.
”Now,” cried Henry, advancing delightedly to meet her, ”I wonder what the chances were against our meeting here?”
”It is rather unexpected, isn't it?”
”Where,” he hesitated, ”where is Mr. Bulpert?”
”I really don't know,” she replied, smiling. ”We're not engaged any longer.”
”Good news!” he cried with emphasis. ”That is to say, it's good news if you wished the engagement to cease.”
”I wasn't sorry.”
He took her elbow, and glanced around. Mr. Trew was examining a set of milk churns with the air of an experienced dairyman.
”Isn't it amazing,” said Henry, ”how one lucky moment can change the appearance of everything? I've been feeling lately that nothing could possibly come right, and now--”
”We mustn't go on too fast,” she interposed sagely, ”because that only means more disappointment. You haven't heard yet about my father.
Listen whilst I tell you about him.”
Gertie waited, as she went on, for a relaxation in the pleasant hold on her arm, but this did not come. When she had said the last word, he nodded.
”I knew all about this long before you did,” he said. ”The information came from my sister-in-law. She had discovered the facts, and felt disappointed, I think, to find that I was not greatly impressed. Of course, you're not responsible for his actions any more than I can be held liable for the behaviour of Jim Langham. Jim is a much worse nut than your father; he hasn't any excuse for his conduct. Forged his sister's name to a big cheque, and, naturally, he has disappeared. I am giving him time to get away before I say anything about it to her.”
”May be leaving England now, I suppose?”
”I hope so; but we needn't bother about him. Let us talk about ourselves, just as we used to do. Do you remember, dear girl?”
”I recollect it,” she admitted. ”Every moment, and every step, and every word. It will always be something good for me to look back upon, when I'm older.”
He bent down to her. ”We'll look back upon it together,” he said affectionately.