"How noble of you!" murmured Rose.
"Nonsense, dear. Sometimes one must do things, that's all. Anyway, I have passed my word, and there's an end, for a person who breaks a promise deserves never to be spoken to again. Don't you agree with me?"
"Of course," exclaimed Rose with enthusiasm.
"If I broke my word to my cousin," continued Andrew in his most exalted manner, "although I confess I feel much tempted to do so, how could you ever trust me again, for instance? Why, you might think, and quite rightly, that perhaps I should do the same thing to you, whereas I want your confidence in me to be as boundless as mine is in yourself, darling."
"Of course you do," repeated Rose, wishing her heart that Andrew would descend from this high moral horse. It bored her when he talked like that, as he was too fond of doing. Such sentiments, she felt, should be reserved for servants, also she heard more than enough of them from her own father.
"Besides," proceeded Andrew, "I am only to be away for about three months, which, although you may think it so, as I do, isn't an eternity. And then, there is the money side of the matter to be considered, which is important to you and me."
"Indeed," said Rose, now really interested, "and what about the money side?"
"Well, this. My cousin has a rich father who is in trade, in the liquor line in fact, and Doctor Black has charged him a very heavy fee for my services. This he says he means to hand over to me, which is just like his generosity."
"Yes," said Rose, and involuntarily her hand went to her throat, where beneath her high dress was hidden a pearl necklace that she dared not wear openly. "How much is he going to pay you?"
"Five hundred guineas."
"That's a lot," said Rose, opening her eyes. "They must think a great deal of you."
"Too much," replied Andrew, "but I didn't make the bargain. If it had been left to me I shouldn't have asked anything. Still, it is fortunate, isn't it, dear? You see, when I come back, as the doctor is going to keep my place open, I shall be in a position to marry you."
Rose coloured most becomingly and whispered, "Yes."
"We might begin in a small way," went on Andrew, ecstatically. "Mrs. Josky has two more rooms at the top of the house, and she would make you very comfortable and soon grow as fond of you as she is of me."
Rose looked doubtful, she could not help it, and to change the subject asked:
"What is your cousin's name?"
"Oh! the same as my own, West," answered Andrew absently.
"Indeed? I thought all the Wests were gentlefolk."
He laughed as he replied:
"Then you are quite mistaken there, dear. Their origin was humble enough, and some of them have not forgotten the manners and customs of their forbears. Money can't make a gentleman, Rose."
"No, Andrew, but it can do a great deal, can it not?"
Ignoring her question, Andrew turned to more congenial topics. In poetic language and with a touching fervour, he assured her that he would think of her all day and most of the night, that he would never look at another woman, except to assure himself of the depths of difference between her and his adored, that he would count the minutes which lay between them and reunion, that he would write to her every day, although he gathered from the postal guide that the mails only left Egypt twice a week.
"Do you think that would be wise, dear, although it is so nice of you? You see, Sister Angelica is all the virtues rolled into one, but she is very prying and takes in the letters."
"Damn Sister Angelica!" exploded Andrew, adding, as he remembered Mrs. Josky's dark hints, "I believe she has made enough mischief already."
Rose wondered what he meant, but thinking it best not to probe the recesses of her adorer's simple mind, inquired instead of another matter.
"Do you think that Miss Black intends to stay at the hospital?"
"I expect so," answered Andrew indifferently. "It is doing her a lot of good and her old father is delighted with the change in her; also your father thinks her work excellent, and says he never knew what comfort was beforeI mean in the hospital. But why do you ask?"
"My father does not live in the hospital," replied Rose with an admixture of sweetness and acerbity that somehow reminded Andrew of the taste of an acid drop, "and I ask because if so, it makes me still more certain that it would not be wise for you to write to me too often. She also is very curious, andyou silly Andrewhas it never occurred to you as possible that I am not the only woman who likes you a little?"
"What on earth do you mean? Oh! I see," he added, colouring, "though it is all bosh. Why, she's several years older. Well, I could send the letters to Mrs. Josky."
"Who would probably open them over the kettle and afterwards deliver them through Sister Angelica," commented Rose.
"Well, what do I care if she does?" expostulated Andrew who felt himself being enveloped in a kind of net of feminine wiles. "I have nothing to be ashamed of in my letters and I don't see the use of all this secrecy, or quite understand why you wish it. Why shouldn't I go to your father and tell him? Taking everything into consideration, although I know I am unworthy of you, I am in a position to ask a man for his daughter's hand."
"Of course you are, dear, but hush! there is somebody coming."
"Let them come," said Andrew heroically, but Rose only moved further away and turned up the gas.
Then the door opened and there entered Arabella and Dr. Watson, talking with evident interest about the affairs of the hospital.
"Fancy, Father," said Rose, ignoring Arabella's presence, "Doctor West has come to tell us that he is going at once to Egypt in charge of a patient."
"Is he?" replied Watson. "Then all I have to say is that it is another instance of the truth of the old axiom, that the gods favour the young, for I suppose that the patient will pay expenses. Here am I, who all my life have been longing to get to Egypt and never found a chance of doing so, while it drops into his mouth, who perhaps would just as soon stop at home. Anyway, I congratulate you, Andrew, and hope that you will make the best of your opportunities. Did you say that the tea was coming, Miss Black?"
"I will go to see," interrupted Rose.
"It is not necessary," said Arabella in her precise voice. "Sister Angelica is just bringing it up. Indeed, I made it myself while she cut the bread and butter."
"You are becoming the angel of the house," interposed Dr. Watson gallantly and smiling in his gentle fashion, "isn't she, Rose?"
"Angels are difficult to define; there are so many sorts of them," replied Rose, her wits quickened in an inward fire of indignation. She did not want to bother about the tea herself, but that this other woman should do so was, she felt, almost an insult. Then she glided from the room on a quite unnecessary journey concerning that meal.
It proved a short one, since she met Angelica in the narrow passage and had to return in front of her. During tea Arabella contrived entirely to monopolize Andrew, discoursing to him of Egypt and begging him to write to her and to tell her all about its wonders, and whenever she ceased speaking for a moment Dr. Watson took up his parable which had to do with ophthalmia and other Eastern diseases, so that Rose was left in the cold. At length the doctor bade him goodbye and good luck very warmly and went away.
But Arabella did not go away; on the contrary, whether by accident or design, she sat there like a rock and embarked upon an argument on Socialism, on which she was growing enthusiastic, the doctor evidently having infected her with his cult. Now Andrew also had leanings that way, but as at the moment he desired to practise another kind of Socialism à deux, very earnestly did he wish that Arabella would reserve her views for a more fitting occasion, especially as he must leave within a quarter of an hour to keep a professional appointment which could not possibly be neglected. First he tried answering in monosyllables and then took refuge in silence, but Arabella, who had not forgotten Rose's remarks as to the different angelic degrees, would not be put off. In an even, monotonous voice she favoured him with a summary of one of Dr. Watson's lectures on his favourite topic, and as Andrew had heard it and knew that it was long, he could only sit still and watch the hands of the clock.
Now at first Rose was grateful to Arabella who, unwittingly, was protecting her from demonstrations with which she found it a little difficult to deal. By degrees, however, her indignation awoke, as she came to understand the nature of the manoeuvre and that its real object was to rob her of her lover's farewell words. Yet, as she could not tell Arabella to leave the room, there was nothing to be done except to sit still also and hate her more heartily than usual.
At length came the inevitable moment when Andrew must go, since otherwise he would miss the consultation of which he had to make report to Dr. Black.
"I can't stay any longer," he said, springing up in despair. "Goodbye, Miss Black. I hope that when I return I shall have found that you have followed the scriptural injunction and divided all your goods among the poor. Do you mind coming outside a moment, Miss Rose? I have a private message which I want you to give to your father," an announcement at which Arabella smiled sarcastically.
Rose hesitated, then gave way, as in fact she always did when Andrew insisted upon anything, because it was easiest.
Andrew slammed the door behind them both and there followed some hurried and broken endearments in the passage which, although they did not know it, proved very interesting to Sister Angelica listening intently from the gloom of a landing upstairs.
As a matter of fact these demonstrations were somewhat onesided, since Rose merely stood still, occasionally murmuring words that might have been spoken in Esperanto, for any meaning they possessed. Andrew thought that she was assenting with passion to all he said and promising to marry him immediately on his return, but on these points Rose's conscience was clear, for as she reflected afterwards, not without a certain virtuous satisfaction, she had really said nothing at all, or at any rate nothing that could be twisted into a compromising promise.
Indeed, as he rushed away shouting for a hansom cab, it even occurred to Andrew himself that he had no exact recollection of the language in which she had conveyed her deathless vows. However, he concluded that this was because of his own extreme agitation and that doubtless it was all right. How could it be otherwise, though he did wish that she had given him just one kiss in return for the many that he had showered upon her. Of course this was because her sweet modesty intervened, but still, although it was brutal of him, and even coarse, he did wish it very much.
His last words were to implore her to come to see him off at the train and to give her very definitely the name of the station and the hour, asking her if she had mastered them.
She answered, "Yes, yes," but whether these affirmatives conveyed that she would be there, or that she had committed these topographical and chronological details to her memory, he could not be sure.
Thus did Andrew, with an aching heart, part from his first love, the woman whom he adored with all the blind passion of an ardent nature and who was destined to deal him the deadliest blow a man can receive in his youth.
When he met her again she was differently circumstanced.
Chapter VIII
The Station
On the day following his farewell to Rose, Andrew lunched at West House in Cavendish Square. The arrangement was that he and Algernon were to proceed to Dover by an afternoon train and there spend the night, catching the Brindisi express boat the next morning. This was Clara's idea.
"You see," explained Algernon to Andrew, "she says it is to give me a rest and make a break in the journey, as though that little bit to Dover mattered one way or the other. What she means is that I might make a night of it if I didn't start till the next morning, forgetting that one can do that at Dover."
"No, you can't, old boy," answered Andrew firmly. "There will be no evenings out while you are in my charge, for I've got to earn that fee by faithful duty, which Clara knows."
"Oh! yes," chuckled Algernon, "there isn't much that Clara doesn't know. But what I don't understand is why she bothers about me at all. It isn't cousinly affection, for she has none for me, and whether I live or die will make no difference to herperhaps, though, it would make a difference," he added reflectively.
"I think you judge Clara rather hardly," said Andrew. "She may be fonder of you than you think."
"She may, but I am quite certain that she is fond of herself and always has something up her sleeve. However, I have no doubt you'll learn who is right some day, so as my breath is short we won't waste any in argument."
That luncheon was not a cheerful feast. Over it there seemed to hang a kind of ominous shadow which the sparkling of the wines and the gleam of the silver dishes, handed round by perfectly trained and obsequious footmen, did nothing to dispel. Lord Atterton was surly and depressed; Algernon, who did not wish to leave England, was sullen and annoyed; Andrew, whose heart ached at the separation from his adored Rose, was silent and internally sentimental. Only Clara was just the same as usual; cool, collected, pretty, beautifully dressed, immaculate in manner; armed at all points against the chances and changes of this mortal life. She chatted away gaily about Egypt which Andrew gathered she must have been reading up in a guidebook, since she told him details of the orientation of the Great Pyramid, of the number of square yards that its base covered and of the millions of tons weight of stone which it contained, facts which she asked him to verify by local inquiry. To her uncle she was sympathetic, suggesting that he might travel with her to Spain to meet the pair on their return, an idea that did not seem to appeal to him, for he only grunted. To Algernon she offered her congratulations at his chance of making acquaintance with a lovely climate and of seeing the world, also of visiting the Cairo Museum and inspecting its mummies.
"Thank you," said Algernon, "but I prefer live people to dead ones; there will be lots of time for them afterwards," a remark that did not tend to lift the general depression.
At length the meal was over and Andrew was conducted by his uncle into the study where presently Clara joined them, leaving Algernon alone in company with the port. Then ensued a jobation. Lord Atterton dilated to Andrew on the greatness of his responsibilities, on the largeness of the sum which his services were costing him, on his general doubts as to his fitness for the office which he had undertaken, as to the way in which he should keep the accounts, and so forth, till at length that young man lost his temper.
"Look here, Uncle," he said, "if you think I want this billet, you never made a greater mistake in all your life. So far as I am concerned, I'd gladly give you the fee back again, with five per cent added out of my own pocket, to be rid of the job. I have reasons of my own for wishing not to leave England just now" here Clara looked at him sharply"and I want to get on with my medical work, instead of fooling about the world with a difficult young man who likeswell, to indulge himself. So, if you wish, I am quite willing to cry off."
"Don't get into a huff, Andrew," interposed Clara soothingly, "you must think of Algernon, not of yourself."
"Who else do you suppose I am thinking of, Clara? It's because I'm fond of old Algy and he won't travel without me, that I'm going at all. Do you consider it a pleasant business to have him on my hands in his state of health, especially as if anything did happen to him, as is quite possible, all sorts of things might be said," here he glanced wrathfully at his uncle. "I tell you that with me it is only a matter of duty."