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How It All Came Round, a fiction by L. T. Meade |
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Chapter 14. Lodgings In Kentish Town |
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_ CHAPTER XIV. LODGINGS IN KENTISH TOWN After a time, restless from the complexity of his musings, Hinton went out. He had promised to return to the Harmans for dinner, but their hour for dinner was eight o'clock, and it still wanted nearly three hours of that time. As Charlotte had done before that day, he found himself in the close neighborhood of Regent's Park. He would have gone into the park, but that he knew that the hour of closing the gates at this early period of the year must be close at hand; he walked, therefore, by the side of the park, rather aimlessly it is true, not greatly caring, provided he kept moving, in what direction his footsteps took him. At last he found himself on the broad tram line which leads to the suburb of Kentish Town. It was by no means an interesting neighborhood. But Hinton, soon lost in his private and anxious musings, went on. At last he left the public thoroughfare and turned down a private road. There were no shops here, nor much traffic. He felt a sense of relief at leaving the roar and bustle behind him. This road on which he had now entered was flanked at each side by a small class of dwelling-houses, some shabby and dirty, some bright and neat; all, however, were poor-looking. It was quite dusk by this time, and the gas had been already lit. This fact, perhaps, was the reason which drew Hinton's much-preoccupied attention to a trivial circumstance. In one of these small houses a young woman, who had previously lit the gas, stepped to the window and proceeded to paste a card to the pane. There was a gas lamp also directly underneath, and Hinton, raising his eyes, saw very distinctly, not only the little act, but also the words on the card. They were the very common words---- APARTMENTS TO LET INQUIRE WITHIN. Hinton suddenly drew up short on the pavement. He did not live in his chambers, and it occurred to him that here he would be within a walk of Regent's Park. In short, that these shabby-looking little lodgings might suit him for the next few uncertain months. As suddenly as he had stopped, and the thought had come to him, he ran up the steps and rang the bell. In a moment or two a little servant-maid opened the door. She was neither a clean nor a tidy-looking maid, and Hinton, fastidious on such matters, took in this fact at a glance. Nevertheless the desire to find for himself a habitation in this shabby little house did not leave him. "I saw a card up in your window. You have rooms to let," he said to the little maid. "Oh, yes, indeed, please, sir," answered the servant with a broad and delighted grin. "'Tis h'our drawing-rooms, please, sir; and ef you'll please jest come inter the 'all I'll run and tell missis." Hinton did so; and in another moment the maid, returning, asked him to step this way. This way led him into a dingy little parlor, and face to face with a young woman who, pale, self-possessed, and ladylike, rose to meet him. Hinton felt the color rising to his face at sight of her. He also experienced a curious and sudden constriction of his heart, and an overawed sense of some special Providence leading him here. For he had seen this young woman before. She was Charlotte Home. In his swift glance, however, he saw that she did not recognize him. His resolve was taken on the instant. However uncomfortable the rooms she had to offer, they should be his. His interest in this Mrs. Home became intensified to a degree that was painful. He knew that he was about to pursue a course which would be to his own detriment, but he felt it impossible now to turn aside. In a quiet voice, and utterly unconscious of this tumult in his breast, she asked him to be seated, and they began to discuss the accommodation she could offer. Her back and front drawing-rooms would be vacant in a week. Yes, certainly; Mr. Hinton could see them. She rang the bell as she spoke, and the maid appearing, took Hinton up stairs. The rooms were even smaller and shabbier than he had believed possible. Nevertheless, when he came downstairs he found no fault with anything, and agreed to the terms asked, namely, one guinea a week. He noticed a tremor in the young, brave voice which asked for this remuneration, and he longed to make the one guinea two, but this was impossible. Before he left he had taken Mrs. Home's drawing-rooms for a month, and had arranged to come into possession of his new quarters that day week. Looking at his watch when he left the house, he found that time had gone faster than he had any idea of. He had now barely an hour to jump into a cab, go to his present most comfortable lodgings, change his morning dress, and reach the Harmans in time for eight o'clock dinner. Little more than these sixty minutes elapsed from the time he left the shabby house in Kentish Town before he found himself in the luxurious abode of wealth, and every refinement, in Prince's Gate. He ran up to the drawing-room, to find Charlotte waiting for him alone. "Uncle Jasper will dine with us, John," she said, "but my father is not well." "Not well!" echoed Hinton. Her face only expressed slight concern, and his reflected it in a lesser degree. "He is very tired," she said, "and he looks badly. But I hope there is not much the matter. He will see you after dinner. But he could not eat, so I have begged of him to lie down; he will be all right after a little rest." Hinton made no further remark, and Uncle Jasper then coming in, and dinner being announced, they all went downstairs. Uncle Jasper and Charlotte were merry enough, but Hinton could not get over a sense of depression, which not even the presence of the woman he loved could disperse. He was not sorry when the message came for him to go to Mr. Harman. Charlotte smiled as he rose. "You will find me in the drawing-room whenever you like to come there," she said to him. He left the room suppressing the sigh. Charlotte, however, did not hear or notice it. Still, with that light of love and happiness crowning her bright face, she turned to the old Australian uncle. "I will pour you out your next glass of port, and stay with you for a few moments, for I have something to tell you." "What is that, my dear?" asked the old man. "Something you have had to do with, dear old uncle. My wedding-day is fixed." Uncle Jasper chuckled. "Ah! my dear," he said, "there's nothing like having the day clear in one's head. And when is it to be, my pretty lass?" "The twentieth of June, Uncle Jasper. Just four months from to-day." "Four months off!" repeated Uncle Jasper. "Well, I don't call that very close at hand. When I spoke to your father last night--for you know I did speak to him, Charlotte--he seemed quite inclined to put no obstacle in the way of your speedy marriage." "Nor did he, Uncle Jasper. You don't understand. He said we might marry at once if we liked. It was I who said the twentieth of June." "You, child!--and--and did Hinton, knowing your father had withdrawn all opposition, did Hinton allow you to put off his happiness for four whole months?" "It was my own choice," said Charlotte. "Four months do not seem to me too long to prepare." "They would seem a very long time to me if I were the man who was to marry you, my dear." Charlotte looked grave at this. Her uncle seemed to impute blame to her lover. Being absolutely certain of his devotion, she scorned to defend it. She rose from the table. "You will find me in the drawing-room, Uncle Jasper." "One word, Charlotte, before you go," said her uncle. "No, child, I am not going to the drawing-room. You two lovers may have it to yourselves. But--but--you remember our talk of last night?" "Yes," answered Charlotte, pausing, and coming back a little way into the room. "Did you say anything to my father? Will he help Mrs. Home?" "I have no doubt he will, my dear. Your father and I will both do something. He is a very just man, is your father. He was a good deal upset by this reference to his early days, and to his quarrel with his own father. I believe, between you and me, that it was that which made him ill this evening. But, Charlotte, you leave Mrs. Home to us. I will mention her case again when your father is more fit to bear the subject. What I wanted to say now, my dear, is this, that I think it would best please the dear old man if--if you told nothing of this strange tale, not even to Hinton, my dear." "Why, Uncle Jasper?" "Why, my dear child? The reason seems to me obvious enough. It is a story of the past. It relates to an old and painful quarrel. It is all over years ago. And then you could not tell one side of the tale without the other. Mrs. Home, poor thing, not personally knowing your father as one of the best and noblest of men, imputes very grave blame to him. Don't you think such a tale, so false, so wrong, had better be buried in oblivion?" "Mrs. Home was most unjust in her ignorance," repeated Charlotte. "But, uncle, you are too late in your warning, for I told John the whole story already to-day." Not a muscle of Uncle Jasper's face changed. "Well, child, I should have said that to you last night. After all, it is natural. Hinton won't let it go farther, and no harm is done." "Certainly, John does not speak of my most sacred things," answered Charlotte proudly. "No, no, of course he doesn't. I am sorry you told him; but as you say, he is one with yourself. No harm is done. No, thank you, my dear, no more wine now. I am going off to my club." _ |
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