Part 55 (1/2)
Before Allan could say a word in answer, there was an interruption at the door. After the usual preliminary knock, one of the servants came in.
”I told you I was not to be interrupted,” said Allan, irritably. ”Good heavens! am I never to have done with them? Another letter!”
”Yes, sir,” said the man, holding it out. ”And,” he added, speaking words of evil omen in his master's ears, ”the person waits for an answer.”
Allan looked at the address of the letter with a natural expectation of encountering the handwriting of the major's wife. The antic.i.p.ation was not realized. His correspondent was plainly a lady, but the lady was not Mrs. Milroy.
”Who can it be?” he said, looking mechanically at Pedgift Senior as he opened the envelope.
Pedgift Senior gently tapped his snuff-box, and said, without a moment's hesitation, ”Miss Gwilt.”
Allan opened the letter. The first two words in it were the echo of the two words the lawyer had just p.r.o.nounced. It _was_ Miss Gwilt!
Once more, Allan looked at his legal adviser in speechless astonishment.
”I have known a good many of them in my time, sir,” explained Pedgift Senior, with a modesty equally rare and becoming in a man of his age.
”Not as handsome as Miss Gwilt, I admit. But quite as bad, I dare say.
Read your letter, Mr. Armadale--read your letter.”
Allan read these lines:
”Miss Gwilt presents her compliments to Mr. Armadale and begs to know if it will be convenient to him to favor her with an interview, either this evening or to-morrow morning. Miss Gwilt offers no apology for making her present request. She believes Mr. Armadale will grant it as an act of justice toward a friendless woman whom he has been innocently the means of injuring, and who is earnestly desirous to set herself right in his estimation.”
Allan handed the letter to his lawyer in silent perplexity and distress.
The face of Mr. Pedgift the elder expressed but one feeling when he had read the letter in his turn and had handed it back--a feeling of profound admiration. ”What a lawyer she would have made,” he exclaimed, fervently, ”if she had only been a man!”
”I can't treat this as lightly as you do, Mr. Pedgift,” said Allan.
”It's dreadfully distressing to me. I was so fond of her,” he added, in a lower tone--”I was so fond of her once.”
Mr. Pedgift Senior suddenly became serious on his side.
”Do you mean to say, sir, that you actually contemplate seeing Miss Gwilt?” he asked, with an expression of genuine dismay.
”I can't treat her cruelly,” returned Allan. ”I have been the means of injuring her--without intending it, G.o.d knows! I can't treat her cruelly after that!”
”Mr. Armadale,” said the lawyer, ”you did me the honor, a little while since, to say that you considered me your friend. May I presume on that position to ask you a question or two, before you go straight to your own ruin?”
”Any questions you like,” said Allan, looking back at the letter--the only letter he had ever received from Miss Gwilt.
”You have had one trap set for you already, sir, and you have fallen into it. Do you want to fall into another?”
”You know the answer to that question, Mr. Pedgift, as well as I do.”
”I'll try again, Mr. Armadale; we lawyers are not easily discouraged. Do you think that any statement Miss Gwilt might make to you, if you do see her, would be a statement to be relied on, after what you and my son discovered in London?”
”She might explain what we discovered in London,” suggested Allan, still looking at the writing, and thinking of the hand that had traced it.
”_Might_ explain it? My dear sir, she is quite certain to explain it!
I will do her justice: I believe she would make out a case without a single flaw in it from beginning to end.”