"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."
"Don't talk so much about your duty," muttered Lord Atterton, "but do it, and I shall judge you according to the results. Most young men would not grumble about a duty of the sort at the figure which that Somerville Black has extorted from me."
"Then I know very well how I shall be judged, and that is, precious hardly, whatever happens," exclaimed Andrew indignantly. "Now I'm off to arrange things. I suppose you'll bring Algy to the station where I will meet you," and he left the room.
Clara followed him to the hall and, slipping her arm through his, said quite gently for her:
"Don't be vexed, Andrew. I know you don't want to go, if perhaps not all your reasons, although I may guess them. I know, too, how well you are getting on in your work and, though you mayn't believe me, I'm proud of it. As for our uncle, you shouldn't blame him too much, for you see how it is with him. He is halfmad with anxiety about Algernon, and that is what makes him so unpleasant."
"Then what will he be, Clara, if the complaint should take a bad turn, as I tell you it may? Why," he added bitterly, "I shouldn't wonder if he said that I had murdered him, for though I hardly ever think about the thing, I can't help remembering that I am the next heir to his confounded title."
"If such a thing should happen, Andrew, which God forbid, well, it would be His Will, that's all. And if you will forgive me for saying so, meanwhile, in all ways, especially in any arrangements that you make contemplate for your future," she added meaningly, "I wish that you would bear more in mind what are your real position and expectations in the world. Now you must be going."
Andrew was at the station early for reasons not entirely connected with the luggage. Indeed, he expected that Rose would be there earlier still, having taken the precaution to send her a postcard on the previous night, antetiming the departure of the train by about forty minutes. Therefore he was disappointed when a hurried but careful search of the Charing Cross terminus revealed no sign of her. Suddenly his hopes revived, for in the distance he caught sight of the tall, ascetic form of Dr. Watson, peering about him amiably, and saw that he was followed by a lady. When a few seconds later he discovered that the lady was Arabella his mental temperature fell with a suddenness that was almost alarming. Collecting himself, however, he greeted them as cordially as possible and thanked them for coming to see him off. Then, as he was about to inquire for the missing one without whom all Charing Cross was but a howling and deserted wilderness, the doctor said:
"Rose must have made a mistake about the hour of the train, since a porter told me that it does not leave for nearly forty minutes."
"I think that the mistake was Doctor West's," interrupted Arabella in her precise way. "I saw his postcard on the floor where Rose had let it fall, and certainly it said 3.10, not 3.55."
Avoiding the matter of the postcard, which would have involved explanations, Andrew asked if Rose was there.
"I don't think so," answered the doctor. "I understood that she was coming, but that she might be a little late, as she wanted first to call at a shop in Regent Street. Didn't you, Miss Black?"
"She did not mention the matter to me one way or the other, and therefore I have no idea of what she intended," replied Arabella still more precisely, adding, "Hats sometimes take a long while to try on and make people forget appointments."
This started the doctor on a dissertation about woman's obsession for dress, which he began to illustrate by ancient and savage examples, remarking that he had no doubt that Eve was careful as to the cut of her skin garments. Andrew listened with a vacuous smile which he summoned up to conceal his inward agony, and was positively relieved when he saw Mrs. Josky bustling towards him, dragging Laurie by the hand, though he thought he had got over the pain of that voluminous farewell.
"Oh! there you are, Doctor West," she exclaimed. "I thought that I might be late, having lost that dratted Laurie in the crowd outside the bus. Well, all's well that ends well, and I have brought you your rug which you left behind, also a thick coat, since a Jew with whom I do business, who once lived in Egypt, said that it is sometimes very cold there" (in fact the rug and the thick coat were a subterfuge, for Mrs. Josky had deliberately secreted them in order to follow her adored Andrew to the railway station).
He thanked her and then found it necessary to devote his attention to Laurie, who had just realized for the first time the completeness of the impending separation, and showed signs of vociferous breakdown. So, while Dr. Watson continued his lecture on female vanity to Arabella, whom it seemed really to interest, Andrew set to work to console Laurie with promises of a present of Turkish Delight, the succulence of which he described in glowing terms.
"Stop talking to that snivelling kid, who has given trouble enough already," interrupted Mrs. Josky, who felt herself neglected, "and let's go through the list of your luggage again, since if there is anything else left, I can send it by the night train to Dover."
"We've done it four times" expostulated Andrew, and broke off as he caught sight of the large form of Dr. Somerville Black surging towards him.
"Hullo! here you are, Andrew," said Black. "I thought I would drop round and give you an idea or two that occur to me about the treatment of that young man whom you are going to bearlead. Why, there are Watson and Arabella, but I don't see the rest of the Flowergarden," and his face fell. "They seem very interested in each other, don't they? Too much so to notice a little one like me, so here goes," and he plunged into medical details about Algernon's case, making Andrew take down a certain prescription in his notebook.
This went on until Lord Atterton and Clara appeared convoying Algernon, who seemed to be in a somewhat festive mood.
"That young man has been drinking a stirrupcup, unless I am much mistaken," remarked Black as his keen eye fell upon him. "You will have to guard against this tendency of his, since Egypt won't do him much good if he is always halfdrunk."
Andrew groaned, overwhelmed by his accumulated woes, but had no time to answer, for just then the others reached them.
The details of that interminable farewell need not be described at length. Lord Atterton said little, but Andrew, whose dark eyes roaming round in continual search of Rose upon the crowded platform fell upon his face, noted that it was wrung with grief. His mouth twisted and although the day was cold, beads of perspiration appeared upon his bald head and forehead which he wiped away with a silk pockethandkerchief, lifting his hat to do so; his small eyes that followed his son's every movement blinked continually, and from time to time he brushed his hand across them, evidently brushing away a tear. Moreover he noticed that notwithstanding her quiet, even talk to whoever happened to be next to her, Clara also observed these things and was watching her uncle anxiously. Only Algernon did not observe. His energies were absorbed in trying to obtain a copy of the Sporting Times which was not forthcoming, and in bribing porters with sixpences to get it for him.
Andrew, who was by nature sympathetic, understood that his uncle was suffering; more, that he was terribly afraid lest he was looking his last upon his only child who, whatever his failings, was all the world to him a lonely man; perhaps even that in his soul he had some premonition that this was so. Andrew did not like his uncle; their natures were antagonistic and he had never pretended otherwise. But now for the first time he felt drawn to him and remembered that after all the same blood ran in their veins, so much so that he freed himself from the rest of the party and went to where Lord Atterton stood looking strangely alone even in that populated place.
"I will do my best for him, Uncle, I will indeed," said Andrew, in answer to the thoughts which he knew were passing through the man's mind.
"I hope so," was the steely answer. "Under all the circumstances, if you didn't, you'd be awell, never mind. And I tell you straight out, Andrew, that if anything happens to Algernon while he is in your charge I shall never forgive you."
"Then that means that you will be very unjust, Uncle."
"Perhaps, but it is true. I hate the whole business," he added with cold passion, "and wish that I had never gone into the house of that infernal, vulgar doctor there, more than I ever wished anything in my life. But it was fate, for otherwise why should I have found you there, of all men in the world? Don't answer, for there is nothing to be said. If you want money, draw on me to any extent. Your Letter of Credit is practically unlimited."
"Why don't you come too?" asked Andrew in despair.
"If you wish to know, I'll tell you. Not for any of the reasons that I have given, but because my son does not want me. He dislikes me as much as you do yourself, and my presence would retard or destroy his chance of recovery."
Then Andrew understood all the tragedy of the life of this most successful man.
Retiring overwhelmed, he met Dr. Black, who had strolled a little way up the platform as though he were looking for some one, and was now returning to speak to his daughter.
"The Flowergarden don't appear," said the doctor, "which is odd, since I understood that she was coming."
Andrew wondered vaguely how or why he understood anything of the sort, but only said:
"So did I and everybody else. I suppose she has not met with an accident?"
"Good God!" said the doctor, starting, "I hope not."
"So do I," replied Andrew, fervently.
Then the guard ordered him into the train and everybody began to say goodbye, though their words were lost in the piercing howls to which the emotional Laurie at length gave vent.
Algernon nearly missed it after all. He had vanished. Just as the whistle blew he appeared running and waving a copy of the Sporting Times in triumph.
"I've got it," he said with a triumphant chuckle that ended in a cough. "Goodbye, Father. Keep your pecker up and your temper down, and don't forget to post it to me every week."
Lord Atterton stretched out his arm, perhaps to take his son's hand, perhaps to embrace him. In either case he was too late, for the guard pushed Algernon through the door as the train began to move, and slammed it behind him. Then they were off and the last of them that Andrew saw was Clara waving the very cleanest and most delicate of pockethandkerchiefs and Mrs. Josky kissing one hand to him, while with the other with great vigour she shook the howling Laurie.
After this, Algernon having remarked: "Thank Heaven! That infernal business is over," went to sleep in one corner of the carriage, while Andrew sat in the other, brooding over the cruelty of fate which had prevented him from seeing Rose and racked with fears lest something should have happened to her.
At Dover his anxieties on this point were relieved, for when he entered the hotel where they had taken rooms for the night, a telegram was put into his hands. He tore it open in a fever of apprehension, to find it was from Dr. Black and read:
"Flowergarden all right. Picked a late Rose in the Strand and drove it home to be put in water in a Red vase. Had been detained selecting appropriate foliage, but found colours difficult to match. Good luck, and don't fall in love with tropical blooms which this climate never suits. Black."
From all which ponderous and characteristic joke Andrew gathered that Arabella was not far wrong when she suggested that Rose had gone to try on hats. Still, he could have wished that she had selected some other opportunity for that feminine entertainment. A shiver of doubt went through him as he reflected on this matter. If Rose loved him as much as he knew she did, how could she become so engrossed with clothes that she had missed him at the stationespecially when he had given her a margin of an extra forty minutes?
Although he was not overpunctual, had their positions been reversed he could never have made such a mistake. But then women were different to men; he must always remember that women were extremely different, and that bright butterfly, Rose, flitting in the sunshine and herself filled with sweetness and light, also perhaps with dreams of which the thought thrilled him, naturally took little reck of such a common everyday thing as time. It was lucky that Dr. Black had found her, doubtless wandering bewildered in the crowd and probably being stared at by brutal men, for the Strand was not a place for her to frequent alone, also that he had been able to drive her home.
On second thoughts, was it so fortune? Now he came to think of it, how did the doctor know she was coming to the station? And generally why did he know everything about her? Not through Arabella he was sure, since, although they were living in the same house, nobody seemed to be quite so unacquainted with whatever had to do with Rose.
It never occurred to him that the drabcoloured and insignificant Angelica who did everything for Rose, possessed eyes and ears which she might be willing to put at the service of anyone who treated her kindly and generously, and that kindness and generosity were outstanding characteristics in the nature of Dr. Black. If he had thought of the matter at all, he would have concluded that Angelica was too fond of Rose and too faithful to her interests to "give her away" in any particular.
He disliked Angelica, a person who did not appeal to him because he thought her one of petty mind, and he knew that she disliked him although she pretended otherwise. Still, with the blind confidence of youth in love that believes itself to be loved, he never dreamt that Angelica would wish Rose to marry anyone but himself, or that she could conceive her cousin's true advantage to lie in another direction. Nor could he have held it possible that she told certain stories to Mrs. Josky which she knew would filter through to him with added point, in the hope that they might cause him to doubt Rose.
Yet in fact all these things were so, and Dr. Black found Sister Angelica quite useful in her way.
Truly "where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise."
Chapter IX
What Happened in Egypt
Andrew and Algernon had a prosperous journey to Egypt. In the train from Paris to Brindisi they, or rather Algernon for Andrew seemed to feel no further interest in the female sex, made the acquaintance of a handsome and vivacious young woman whose name was Fairley. She was travelling with an elderly aunt, a somnolent person with a stout figure and a squeaky voice who was also named Fairley. Andrew could not make out much about them, except that they were not ladies, and indeed did not take the trouble to do so, for the elder Miss Fairley, either from torpor or for other reasons, was uncommunicative, while the younger Miss Fairley, who soon came to be known as Florence as a kind of identification badge, talked little of her home or belongings, although she talked a great deal about everything else. All he gathered was that they were welltodo and came from Manchester or its neighbourhood, also that they were supposed to be travelling for the benefit of the health of Miss Fairley senior, whom Algernon christened the Dormouse.