Part 18 (1/2)

”Mr. Talbot wants to see you, ma'am.”

”Is the doctor out?”

”Yes, ma'am. He did not ask for the doctor. He said he wanted to speak to you for a minute.”

”Show him into the library, and tell anyone else who calls that I am engaged for a few moments.”

Mrs. Wilson hastened downstairs, to find her visitor rather nervously turning over the books on her table. Eugene's once bright chestnut curls were as thin now as Henry Wilson's sandy locks, and his attire was elegant with an effort, though he still kept his fine eyes and winning smile.

”Won't you sit down?”

”No, thank you. I only came--I have not much time--I came on business--if you are not too much engaged?”

”Not at all,” said Lucy, quietly seating herself, which seemed to soothe her companion's nerves.

He sat down, too, and began abruptly, ”I cannot begin to tell you how much we owe to your husband!”

”We have both sympathised so much in your sorrow and anxiety! If he could do anything at all, I am sure he is only too glad, and so am I.”

”It was not only his saving our child's life, but he has done--I can't tell you what he has done for us in every way, as if he had been a brother--”

Lucy raised her head proudly, with a glad light in her eyes. Eugene looked at her a moment, and then went on with a sigh; ”I couldn't say this to him, but I must to you, though of course you don't need any praise I can give him to tell you what he is.”

”No,” said Lucy, ”it is the greatest happiness of my life to know it--it would be if no one else did; not but what it is very pleasant to have him appreciated,” she added, smiling.

”I know,” said Eugene, now growing red and confused, ”that no recompense could ever express all we felt. Such services as his are not to be bought with a price, but I could not feel satisfied if I did not give him all that was in my power. I shall never rest till I have done so,--but--the fact is,” he hurried on desperately, ”I know his charges are very small--they seem ridiculously so for a man of his reputation--but the fact is, I am unable just now to meet all my obligations; the ill-health of my family has been terribly expensive--I must ask a little time--I am ashamed to do so, but I can do it better from him than from anyone else--and from you.”

”Oh, don't mention it!” cried Lucy, eagerly, ”the sum is a mere trifle to us; it would not matter if we never had it. To whom should you turn to be helped or understood, if not to old friends like us?”

”I hope to be able to pay all my just debts, and this among the first.”

”Oh, of course! but don't feel the least bit hurried about it! Henry will never think of it till the time comes. He always forgets all about his bills when they are once out. Wait till it is perfectly convenient.”

”Thank you,” said Eugene huskily; ”you are all goodness. I have not deserved this of you.” He had already risen to go: but as he drew near the door he turned back: ”Oh, Lucy, don't believe I was ever quite as heartless as I seemed. I know I treated you in a scoundrelly way, but I loved you all the time--indeed, indeed, I did.”

”Stop, Mr. Talbot! This is no language for you to use! If you have no regard for me, recollect at least what is due to your wife.”

”I have nothing to say against Mabel. She's a dear good girl, a great deal too good for me. It isn't her fault that things have gone against me. I always felt it was to pay me up for my conduct to you. I loved you as well as I ever could love anyone; but I was a selfish brute, and thought to better myself in the world--”

”Stop, Mr. Talbot! I ought not to hear any more of this! I was too much overcome by surprise at first to check you, but now I must ask you to leave me at once if you cannot control yourself.”

”I haven't a word to say that need offend you,” said Eugene, humbly. ”I only wanted to ask you to forgive me for old time's sake.”

”There is nothing I know of for me to forgive. I am sorry, for your own sake, to hear that you ever had such feelings. I never dreamed of them.”

”It seemed to me as if you could not help knowing.”

”Indeed? I don't remember,” said Mrs. Wilson, smiling. ”I was so engrossed with my own affairs then, you see,” she added with engaging candour; ”and if I thought about you, I supposed you were the same. You can understand, after what you have seen of Henry, how little attention a girl who loved him would have to spare for anyone else.”