"That is the literal truth," I answered.
She laughed. "But you have not answered _my_ question," she said.
"What were you doing there yourself?"
"I had been dining at the Charing Cross Hotel with a friend who had just returned from India," I told her, "and I was walking back to the house of the friend with whom I am staying. He lives in a street off Piccadilly."
"But what were you doing in Regent Street?"
"Following you."
She laughed again. "Did you see that old man speak to me?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Horrid old creature, is he not? He gave me such a start! Did you recognise him?"
"Yes."
"I did not at first, but when I did, I thought I would make him useful."
She meditated for a little, then she said; "It did me good."
"What?" I asked.
"That start," she replied. "It quite roused me. But, now, tell me. I should never have supposed that you had no business anywhere at any time; why are you not equally charitable?"
I was silent.
"Tell me what you think took me there?"
"An unholy curiosity," I blurted out.
"That is an unholy inspiration which has only just occurred to you, and you cannot entertain the suspicion for a moment," she said.
This was true.
"But, after all," she pursued, "what business have you to take me to task like this? It is not a professional matter."
"I don"t know that," I answered. This was another inspiration, and it disconcerted her, for she changed countenance.
"You have a nice opinion of me!" she exclaimed.
"I have the highest opinion of you," I answered, "and n.o.body knows that better than yourself. But what am I to think when I find you acting without any discretion whatever?"
"Think that I am at the mercy of every wayward impulse."
"But I know that you are not," I replied; "and I am unhappy about you.
Will you trust me? Will you explain? Will you let me help you if I can? I believe there is some trouble at the bottom of this business. Do tell me all about it?"
"Well, I _will_ explain," she said, still laughing. "I was driving past, and seeing you there, I thought I would horrify you, so I stopped the carriage--"
"You got out of an omnibus!" I exclaimed.
"Well, that was my carriage for the time being," she answered, in no way disconcerted. "You do not expect me to own that I was in an omnibus, do you?"
"I wish you would be serious for a moment," I remonstrated. "I wish you would tell me the truth."
"As I always do tell the truth if I tell anything, I think we had better let the subject drop," she said, with a sigh, as if she were tired of it.
"You mean you cannot tell me?"
"That is what I mean."
I reflected for a moment. "Does Lady Adeline know that you were out last night?" I asked.
"No," she replied. "She was out herself and I returned before she did.
"Then you have not told her either?"
She shook her head.
"I would really rather you confided in her than in me, if you can."
"Thank you," she answered drily.
"Can you?" I persisted.
"No, I cannot," was the positive rejoinder.
I rose to go. "Forgive my officiousness," I said. "I ventured to hope you would make use of me, but I am afraid I have been forcing my services upon you too persistently."
She rose impulsively, and held out both hands to me. "I wish I could thank you," she said, looking up at me frankly and affectionately. "I wish I could tell you how much I appreciate your goodness to me, and all your disinterestedness. I wish I deserved it!" She clasped my hands warmly as she spoke, then dropped them; and instantly I became conscious of an indescribable sense of relief; and prepared to depart at once; but she stopped me again with a word as I opened the door.
"Dr. Galbraith," she began, with another flash of merriment, "tell me, you _were_ horrified, now, were you not?"
I jammed my hat on my head and left her. I did not mean to slam the door, but her levity had annoyed me. I fancied her laughing as I descended the stairs, and wondered at her mood, and yet I was re-a.s.sured by it. She would not have been so merry if there had been anything really wrong, and it was just possible that the half explanation she had given me and withdrawn was the true one. She might have been in an omnibus for once for some quite legitimate reason, and while it waited at Piccadilly Circus she might have seen me as she had described, and got out in a moment of mischief to astonish me. If that were her object, she had certainly succeeded, and it seemed to me more likely than that she should just have gone and returned for the sake of doing an unusual thing, which was the only other explanation that occurred to me.
I saw Lady Adeline before I left the house, and found that Colonel Colquhoun was not staying with them, nor did she seem to know that he had been in town.
CHAPTER XII.
A cruel misfortune robbed me of a near relation at this time, and added the rank of baronet, with a considerable increase of fortune, to my other responsibilities. The increase of fortune was welcome in one way, as it enabled me to enlarge a small private hospital which I had established on my Fountain Towers estate, for the benefit of poor patients. Attending to these, and to the buildings which were at once put in progress, was the one absorbing interest of my life at that time.
During the next three months I only called once on Evadne, and that was a mere formal visit which I felt in duty bound to pay her. I did not drive past the house, either, oftener than I could help, but when I was obliged to go that way I saw her, sitting sewing in her accustomed place, and she would smile and bow to me--brightly at first, but after a time with a wistful, weary expression, or I fancied so. It was of necessity a hurried glimpse that I had, although my horse would slacken his speed of his own accord as we approached the holly hedge that bounded her bower; but I began to be uneasily aware of a change in her appearance. I might be mistaken, but I certainly thought her eyes looked unnaturally large, as if her cheeks had fallen away, and the little patient face was paler. In the early summer, when she was well, she had been wont to flush upon the least occasion, but now her colour did not vary, and I suspected that she was again shutting herself up too much. Mrs. Orton Beg was at Fraylingay, Diavolo was keeping his grandfather company at Morne, the Kilroys were in town, the Hamilton-Wellses had gone to Egypt, and Colonel Colquhoun had taken two months" leave and gone abroad also, so that she had no one near her for whom she had any special regard. Colonel Colquhoun had called on me before he left, and told me he was sure Evadne would hope to see a good deal of me during his absence, and he wished I would look after her--professionally, I inferred, and of course I was always prepared to do so. But, so far, she had not required my services, happily, and for the rest--well, my time was fully occupied, and I found it did not suit me to go to As-You-Like-It. When I noticed the change in her appearance, however, I began to think I would look in some day, just to see how she really was, but before I could carry out the half formed intention she came to me. It was during my consulting hours, and I was sitting at my writing table, seeing my patients in rotation, when her name was announced. She sauntered in in her usual leisurely way, shook hands with me, and then subsided into the easy-chair on my right, which was placed facing the window for my patients to occupy.