Part 27 (1/2)
The faded lines before her laid a strong man's heart at her feet, and begged for her love in return, stating that he had been suddenly called to a distant post, and asking for an answer before he sailed. The writer felt he was presumptuous, but the exigencies of the case must be his excuse. If he had no reply he should know his pleading was in vain, and would trouble her no more; but if, on the other hand, she was not entirely indifferent to him, a line from her would bring him to her side to plead his cause in person. There was more in the letter, but this was its main purpose.
And this was the end of if: two loving hearts divided and kept apart by a damp day and an accidental drop of gum.
No wonder the tears flowed afresh, and ”sunny Miss Martyn” belied her character.
She was still bending over the sheet of paper spread out on her knee when, with a knock at the door, the servant entered, saying:
”A gentleman to see you, Miss.”
Hastily brus.h.i.+ng away the traces from her cheeks, Miss Martyn rose, to see a tall, grey-haired man standing in the doorway, regarding her with a bright smile on his face.
She did not recognise him; he was a stranger to her, and yet----
The next moment he strode forward with outstretched hand.
”Selina Martyn, don't you know me? And you have altered so little!”
A moment longer she stood in doubt, and then with a little gasp exclaimed:
[Sidenote: ”Edgar!”]
”Edgar! Mr. Freeman--I--I didn't know you. You--you see, it is so long since--since I had that pleasure.”
And while she was speaking she was endeavouring with her foot to draw out of sight the paper that had fallen from her lap when she had risen.
He noticed her ap.r.o.n, and with an ”Excuse me” bent down, and, picking it up, laid it on the table. As he did so his eyes fell for a moment on the writing, and he started slightly, but did not refer to it.
”Thank you,” she said, and her cheeks had suddenly lost their colour, and her hand trembled as she indicated an armchair on the other side of the fireplace, saying, ”Won't you sit down?”
He did so, easily and naturally, as though paying an ordinary afternoon call.
”Selina Martyn, you're looking remarkably well, and nearly as young as ever,” he continued.
She raised her eyes shyly, and smiled as she replied, ”Do you really think so, Mr. Freeman?”
”Call me Edgar, I like it better; and we've known each other long enough to account for your doing so.” He did not give her a chance of objecting, but continued, ”I only landed in England yesterday, and you are the first person I've called on. I got your address from my cousin, Mrs. Perry--Maud Elliott that was; she's living in Monte Video, you know; I saw her for a few hours as I pa.s.sed through. Really, Selina, you're looking prettier than ever, I declare!”
”You mustn't flatter an old woman, Mr. Freeman--well--Edgar, if you wish it. I don't think perhaps there is anything unmaidenly in my using your Christian name. We've known each other a great many years now, as you say.”
”We have indeed, my dear lady. And we might have known each other a great deal better if--if--well, if you had only seen your way to it. But there--that's all pa.s.sed now. And yet----”
”Yes, that's all pa.s.sed now.” And Selina gave a little sigh, yet loud enough for her visitor to hear it, and he moved his chair from the side to the front of the fire as she continued, ”Do you know--Edgar--just before you came in I made a discovery--I found something that reached me a day or two before you sailed, and that I had never seen till half an hour ago,” and she looked down at her fingers that were playing with the end of the delicate lace fichu she was wearing.
A smile came over her visitor's face, but he only said:
”'Pon my word, Selina, you're a very beautiful woman! I've carried your face in my memory all these years, but I see now how half-blind I must have been.”
”You mustn't talk nonsense to an old woman like me. I want to tell you something, and I don't know how to do it.”