Part 48 (1/2)
”No. What was her business?”
”She did not say. Asked for you, and would not wait.”
”What name?”
”Did not give any. Think she left a note on your desk. She was the loveliest creature I ever looked at.”
”My desk? Hereafter in my absence allow no one to enter my private office. I did not consider it necessary to caution you, or inform you that my desk is not public property, but designed for my exclusive service. In future when I am out keep that door locked. Step around to Fitzgerald's and get that volume of Reports he borrowed last week.” The young man coloured, picked up his hat, and disappeared; and the lawyer walked into his sanctum and approached his desk.
Seating himself in the large revolving chair, his eyes fell instantly upon the long sheet, with the few lines traced in a delicate feminine hand.
Over his cold face swept a marvellous change, strangely softening its outlines and expression. He examined the writing curiously, taking off his gla.s.ses and holding the paper close to his eyes; and he detected the alteration in the ”Dear,” which had evidently been commenced as ”My.”
Laying it open before him, he took the pen, wrote ”my” before the ”dear,” and drawing a line through the ”Regina Orme,” subst.i.tuted above it ”Lily.”
In her haste she had left on the desk one glove, and her small ivory _porte-monnaie_ which her mother had sent from Rome.
He took up the little pearl-grey kid, redolent of Lubin's ”violet,”
and spread out the almost childishly small fingers on his own broad palm, which suddenly closed over it like a vice; then with a half smile of strange tenderness, in which all the stony sternness of lips and chin seemed steeped and melted, he drew the glove softly, caressingly over his bronzed cheek.
Pressing the spring of the purse, it opened and showed him two small gold dollars, and a five dollar bill. In another compartment, wrapped in tissue paper, was a small bunch of pressed violets, tied with a bit of blue sewing silk. Upon the inside of the paper was written:
”Gathered at Agra. April 8th, 18--.”
He knew Mr. Lindsay's handwriting, and his teeth closed firmly as he refolded the paper, and put the purse and glove in the inside breast pocket of his coat. Placing the note in an envelope, he addressed it to ”Erle Palma,” and locked it up in a private drawer.
Raising his brilliant eyes to the lovely girlish face on the wall, he said slowly, sternly:
”My Lily, and she shall be broken, and withered, and laid to rest in Greenwood, before any other man's hand touches hers. My Lily, housed sacredly in my bosom; blooming only in my heart.”
CHAPTER XX.
Dismissing the carriage at the corner of the square, near which she expected to find Mrs. Mason located in more comfortable lodging, Regina walked on until she found the building of which she was in quest, and rang the bell. It was situated in a row of plain, unpretending but neat tenement houses, kept thoroughly repaired; and the general appearance of the neighbourhood indicated that the tenants though doubtless poor were probably genteel, and had formerly been in more affluent circ.u.mstances.
The door was opened by a girl apparently half grown, who stated that Mrs. Mason had rented the bas.e.m.e.nt rooms, and that her: visitors were admitted through the lower entrance, as a different set of lodgers had the next floor. She offered to show Regina the way, and knocking at the bas.e.m.e.nt door, the girl suddenly remembered that she had seen Mrs. Mason visiting at the house directly opposite.
”Wait, miss, and I will run across and call her.”
While standing at the lower door, and partly screened by the flight of steps leading to the rooms above, Regina saw a figure advancing rapidly along the sidewalk, a tall figure whose graceful carriage was unmistakable; and as the person ran up the steps of the next house in the row, and impatiently pulled the bell, Regina stepped forward and looked up.
A gust of wind just then blew aside the thick brown veil that concealed the countenance, and showed for an instant only the strongly marked yet handsome profile of Olga Neville.
The door opened; her low inaudible question was answered in the affirmative, and Olga was entering, when the skirt of her dress was held by a projecting nail, and in disengaging it, she caught a glimpse of the astonished countenance beneath the steps. She paused, leaned over the bal.u.s.trade, threw up both hands with a warning gesture, then laid her finger on her lips, and hurried in, closing the door behind her.
”The lady says Mrs. Mason was there, but left her about a quarter of an hour ago. What name shall I give when she comes home?”
”Tell her Regina Orme called, and was very sorry she missed seeing her. Say I will try to come again on Sunday afternoon, if the weather is good. Who lives in the next house?”