Part 14 (1/2)

”My dear fellow!” Lord Evelyn protested; ”the need of money is most urgent. There are printing-presses to be kept going; agents to be paid; police-spies to be bribed--there is an enormous work to be done, and money must be spent.”

”All the same,” said Brand, who was invariably most resolved when he was most quiet in his manner, ”I shall prefer not running the chance of being duped in that direction. Besides, I am bound in honor not to do anything of the kind. I can fling myself away--this is my own lookout; and my life, or the way I spend it, is not of great consequence to me.

But my father's property, if anything happens to me, ought to go intact to my sister's boys, to whom, indeed, I have left it by will. I will say to Lind, 'Is it myself or my money that is wanted: you must choose.'”

”The question would be an insult.”

”Oh, do you think so? Very well; I will not ask it. But that is the understanding.” Then he added, more lightly, ”Why, would you have the Pilgrim start with his pocket full of sovereigns? His staff and his wallet are all he is ent.i.tled to. And when one is going to make a big plunge, shouldn't one strip?”

There was no answer; for Lord Evelyn's quick ear had caught the sound of wheels in the adjacent street.

”There is my trap,” he said, looking at his watch as he rose.

Waters brought the young man his coat, and then went out to light him down-stairs.

”Good-night, Brand. Glad to see you are getting into a wholesomer frame of mind. I shall tell Natalie you are now prepared to admit that there is in the world at least one woman who is not a cheat.”

”I hope you will not utter a word to Miss Lind of any of the nonsense we have been talking,” said Brand, hastily, and with his face grown red.

”All right. By-the-way, when are you coming up to see the girls?”

”To-morrow afternoon: will that do?”

”Very well; I shall wait in.”

”Let me see if I remember the order aright,” said Brand, holding up his fingers and counting. ”Rosalys, Blanche, Ermentrude, Agnes, Jane, Frances, Geraldine: correct?”

”Quite. I think their mother must forget at times. Well, good-night.”

”Good-night--good-night!”

Brand returned to the empty room, and threw wide open one of the windows. The air was singularly mild for a night in March; but he had been careful of his friend. Then he dropped into an easy-chair, and opened a letter.

It was the letter from Natalie Lind, which he had held in his hand ever since, eagerly hoping that Evelyn would forget it--as, in fact, he had done. And now with what a strange interest he read and re-read it; and weighed all its phrases; and tried to picture her as she wrote these lines; and studied even the peculiarities of the handwriting. There was a quaint, foreign look here and there--the capital B, for example, was written in German fas.h.i.+on; and that letter occurred a good many times.

It was Mr. Brand, and Mr. Brand, over and over again--in this friendly and frank gossip, which had all the brightness of a chat over a new acquaintance who interests one. He turned to the signature. ”_Your friend, Natalie._”

Then he walked up and down, slowly and thoughtfully; but ever and again he would turn to the letter to see that he had quite accurately remembered what she had said about the delight of the sail from Calais, and the beautiful flowers at Dover and her gladness at the prospect of their having this new a.s.sociate and friend. Then the handwriting again.

The second stroke of the N in her name had a little notch at the top--German fas.h.i.+on. It looked a pretty name, as she wrote it.

Then he went to the window, and leaned on the bra.s.s bar, and looked out on the dark and sleeping world, with its countless golden points of fire. He remained there a long time, thinking--of the past, in which he had fancied his life was buried; of the present, with its bewildering uncertainties; of the future, with its fascinating dreams. There might be a future for him, then, after all; and hope; and the joy of companions.h.i.+p? Surely that letter meant at least so much.

But then the boundlessness, the eager impatience, of human wishes!

Farther and farther, as he leaned and looked out, without seeing much of the wonderful spectacle before him, went his thoughts and eager hopes and desires. Companions.h.i.+p; but with whom? And might not the spring-time of life come back again, as it was now coming back to the world in the sweet new air that had begun to blow from the South? And what message did the soft night-wind bring him but the name of Natalie? And Natalie was written in the clear and s.h.i.+ning heavens, in letters of fire and joy; and the river spoke of Natalie; and the darkness murmured Natalie.

But his heart, whispering to him--there, in the silence of the night, in the time when dreams abound, and visions of what may be--his heart, whispering to him, said--”Natalushka!”

CHAPTER XI.

A COMMISSION.