Part 36 (1/2)

On the second day of the journey, he rode up to his mistress, and told her, taking care that Lady Clementina should hear, that Mr Graham was now preaching in London, adding that for his part he had never before heard anything fit to call preaching. Florimel did not show much interest, but asked where, and Malcolm fancied he could see Lady Clementina make a mental note of the place.

”If only,” he thought, ”she would let the power of that man's faith have a chance of influencing her, all would be well.”

The ladies talked a good deal, but Florimel was not in earnest about anything, and for Clementina to have turned the conversation upon those possibilities, dim dawning through the chaos of her world, which had begun to interest her, would have been absurd--especially since such was her confusion and uncertainty, that she could not tell whether they were clouds or mountains, shadows or continents.

Besides, why give a child sovereigns to play with when counters or dominoes would do as well? Clementina's thoughts could not have pa.s.sed into Florimel, and become her thoughts. Their hearts, their natures must come nearer first. Advise Florimel to disregard rank, and marry the man she loved! As well counsel the child to give away the cake he would cry for with intensified selfishness the moment he had parted with it! Still, there was that in her feeling for Malcolm which rendered her doubtful in Florimel's presence.

Between the grooms little pa.s.sed. Griffith's contempt for Malcolm found its least offensive expression in silence, its most offensive in the shape of his countenance. He could not make him the simplest reply without a sneer. Malcolm was driven to keep mostly behind. If by any chance he got in front of his fellow groom, Griffith would instantly cross his direction and ride between him and the ladies.

His look seemed to say he had to protect them.

CHAPTER XLVI: PORTLAND PLACE

The latter part of the journey was not so pleasant: it rained.

It was not cold, however, and the ladies did not mind it much. It accorded with Clementina's mood; and as to Florimel, but for the thought of meeting Caley, her fine spirits would have laughed the weather to scorn. Malcolm was merry. His spirits always rose at the appearance of bad weather, as indeed with every show of misfortune a response antagonistic invariably awoke in him. On the present occasion he had even to repress the constantly recurring impulse to break out in song. His bosom's lord sat lightly in his throne.

Griffith was the only miserable one of the party. He was tired, and did not relish the thought of the work to be done before getting home. They entered London in a wet fog, streaked with rain, and dyed with smoke. Florimel went with Clementina for the night, and Malcolm carried a note from her to Lady Bellair, after which, having made Kelpie comfortable, he went to his lodgings.

When he entered the curiosity shop, the woman received him with evident surprise, and when he would have pa.s.sed through to the stair, stopped him with the unwelcome information that, finding he did not return, and knowing nothing about himself or his occupation, she had, as soon as the week for which he had paid in advance was out, let the room to an old lady from the country.

”It is no great matter to me,” said Malcolm, thoughtful over the woman's want of confidence in him, for he had rather liked her, ”only I am sorry you could not trust me a little.”

”It's all you know, young man,” she returned. ”People as lives in London must take care of theirselves--not wait for other people to do it. They'd soon find theirselves nowheres in partic'lar.

I've took care on your things, an' laid 'em all together, an' the sooner you find another place for 'em the better, for they do take up a deal o' room.”

His personal property was not so bulky, however, but that in ten minutes he had it all in his carpet bag and a paper parcel, carrying which he re-entered the shop.

”Would you oblige me by allowing these to lie here till I come for them?” he said.

The woman was silent for a moment.

”I'd rather see the last on 'em,” she answered. ”To tell the truth, I don't like the look on 'em. You acts a part, young man. I'm on the square myself. But you'll find plenty to take you in.--No, I can't do it. Take 'em with you.”

Malcolm turned from her, and with his bag in one hand and the parcel under the other arm, stepped from the shop into the dreary night.

There he stood in the drizzle. It was a bystreet into which gas had not yet penetrated, and the oil lamps shone red and dull through the fog. He concluded to leave the things with Merton, while he went to find a lodging.

Merton was a decent sort of fellow--not in his master's confidence, and Malcolm found him quite as sympathetic as the small occasion demanded.

”It ain't no sort o' night,” he said, ”to go lookin' for a bed.

Let's go an' speak to my old woman: she's a oner at contrivin'.”

He lived over the stable, and they had but to go up the stair. Mrs Merton sat by the fire. A cradle with a baby was in front of it.

On the other side sat Caley, in suppressed exultation, for here came what she had been waiting for--the first fruits of certain arrangements between her and Mrs Catanach. She greeted Malcolm distantly, but neither disdainfully nor spitefully.

”I trust you've brought me back my lady, MacPhail,” she said; then added, thawing into something like jocularity, ”I shouldn't have looked to you to go running away with her.”

”I left my lady at Lady Clementina Thornicroft's an hour ago”

answered Malcolm.