At Large

by E. W. Hornung

  IV

  HOW DICK CAME HOME

  A crowd of the usual dock order had gathered on the quay at Blackwall bythe time the _Hesper_ made her appearance, towed by two Channel tugs.Some time, however, passed before the vessel swung near enough to thequay for recognitions to begin; and by then the dingy line of dockloafers and watermen was enhanced by a second rank of silk hats and aslight leaven of bonnets. With intolerable sloth the big ship swungcloser and closer, broadside on; greetings were excitedly exchanged, andat length the gangway was thrown across and held by a dozen eager hands.

  Dick Edmonstone, at the break of the poop, bent forward to search amongthe faces on the quay, apparently without finding any he knew. Butpresently, as his eye glanced rapidly up and down the line, he becameconscious of one gaze fixed steadily upon him; twice he overlooked thisface; the third time, a mutual stare, a quick smile of delight, a boundacross the gangway, and Dick was grasping his brother's hand.

  "Dick!"

  "Maurice!"

  Then they seemed to gasp in the same breath:

  "Never should have known you!" "Nor I you--from Adam!"

  And then they were silent for a whole minute, scrutinising one anotherfrom head to heels; until Maurice said simply that he had got away fromthe bank and needn't go back, and fell to asking about the voyage, andthe weather, and the passengers, and had the cabin been comfortable? andwhat a stunning ship! To all of which Dick replied coherently; and forfive minutes they talked as though they had parted last week. Only forsuch trifles could they find ready words; so much was inexpressible justat first.

  They went into Dick's cabin; and there their tongues loosened a little.All were well at home, and happy, and comfortable; the news was good allround, as Dick phrased it, with thankfulness in his heart. That was thefirst delicious fact to be realised. After that, words flew withmarvellous rapidity; the brothers were soon like two competitive humanlooms, turning them out one against the other. Fortunately the pace wastoo quick to last; in ten minutes both were breathless. Then theyfastened upon stewards and Customs officials, and, by dint of somebullying and a little bribing, managed finally to get clear of the shipwith Dick's luggage.

  Dick was in tremendous spirits. He was back in old England at last, andtestified his appreciation of the fact every minute.

  Between Blackwall and Fenchurch Street he made odious comparisonstouching Colonial travelling; in the four-wheeler across to Waterloo herevelled in the rattle and roar of the traffic; along the loop-line hiseyes feasted on the verdant fields that had haunted his dreams in thewilderness.

  The Edmonstones lived in a plain little house in a road at Teddington,in which all the houses were little, plain, and uniformly alike. Theycalled their house "The Pill Box"; but that was a mere nickname, sinceall the houses in that plain little road were fearfully and wonderfullychristened, and theirs no exception to the rule. Its name--blazoned onthe little wooden gate--was Iris Lodge; and being sane people, andsufficiently familiar with suburban ideas, the Edmonstones had neverattempted to discover the putative point of the appellation. They weresatisfied to dub the house "The Pill Box," with malicious candour, amongthemselves. For the Edmonstones did not take kindly (much less at first)to road or house. And naturally, since five years ago, before Mr.Edmonstone's death, they had lived in a great, square, charming villa,with a garden-wall running a quarter of a mile along the towing-path,within sight of Kingston Bridge. But then Richard Edmonstone senior haddropped dead, at the height of his reputed success on the Stock Exchangeand of his undoubted popularity in the clubs. To the surprise of all butthose who knew him most intimately, he had left next to nothing behindhim; the house by the river had been hurriedly sold, young Richard hadas promptly emigrated, and the rest of them had bundled into as small ahouse as they could find in the neighbourhood.

  But squat, snug, bourgeois as it was, Dick felt that the plain littlehouse was nevertheless home, as the cab rattled over the railway bridgeand along the road to the left, and so on towards "The Pill Box." It wasraining (that June was not an ideal month), and the vehicle was thedetestable kind of victoria so much affected by the honest cabmen of theThames valley; still, Dick insisted on having the hood down to sniff theair of his native heath. Yet, though in sufficiently good spirits, hisheart was beating quickly within him. These homecomings are no smallthings, unless the rover be old or loveless, and Dick was neither.

  After all, the meeting was got over, as such meetings have been got overbefore, with a few tears and fewer words and melting looks and warmembraces. And so Dick Edmonstone was given back to the bosom of hisfamily.

  When the first and worst of it was over, he could not rest in a chairand talk to them, but must needs roam about the room, examiningeverybody and everything as he answered their questions. How well hismother was looking! and how her dark eyes beamed upon him!--the morebrightly, perhaps, from their slight moisture. Her hand was as smoothand white as ever, and her hair whiter; how well it suited her to wearno cap, and have the silver mass pushed back like that! He had declaredto himself he had never seen so pretty a woman over five-and-thirty--andhis mother was fifty, and looking every year of it. And Fanny--well,she, perhaps, was as far from beauty as ever; but her wavy chestnut hairwas matchless still, and as for expression, had there ever been one sosweet and gentle in the world before? It was Maurice who had all thegood looks, though. But Maurice was pale and slim and ratherround-shouldered; and instantly the image of the lad bending all dayover the desk rose in Dick's mind and made him sad. What a differentman the bush would make of Maurice! Then he looked round at the oldfamiliar objects; the Landseer engravings and Fanny's water-coloursketches; the cottage piano, the writing-table, old pieces of odd warewhich he remembered from his cradle, the fancy ormolu clock, which hehad hated from his earliest days of discernment. He looked no further--atelegram was stuck up in front of the clock, and flaunted in his face:

  "Edmonstone, Iris Lodge, Teddington,--Ship _Hesper_ signalled StartPoint ten this morning.--Bone and Phillips."

  He read it curiously.

  "Why, that's three days old!" he said, laughing. "Do you mean to say youhave been staring at that bit of paper ever since--a sort of deputy-me,eh?"

  "It was the first we heard," said the mother simply; and a subtlesomething brought back her tears. "I half think I'll frame it!" sheadded, smiling at her own weakness.

  "I found out your other signallings," said Maurice. "I was in Bone'soffice half-a-dozen times yesterday."

  Dick continued his survey of the room.

  "Well, I think I recognise everything," he said presently; "but, I say,Fanny, I've got a thing or two for you to arrange in your high-artfashion; some odds and ends you haven't seen the like of before, Iexpect."

  "No!" said Fanny.

  "Oh, but I have, though; and some of 'em expressly for you."

  "No!--really?--then what?"

  "Aha, you'll see," said Dick. "Maurice, we'll unpack them now--if thatbrute of a Customs functionary has left a whole thing in the box." Andthe two left the room.

  "To think," said Fanny musingly, "that our Dick is back! Really back,and never going out again; and been through all kinds of fearfuladventures; and sailed round the world, and been away four years and ahalf--one can scarcely realise any of it. But above all, to think thathe has made his fortune!"

  Mrs. Edmonstone started.

  "Oh, Fanny," cried she, "I had forgotten that! He never once spoke ofit, and I didn't think of it. Oh, my boy, my boy!" She burst fairly intosobs. Her joy had been too great to bear before she was reminded of thisoverwhelming fact; it had brought the tears again and again to her eyes;now it became akin to pain.

  Yet she did nothing but smile after her sons returned, laden withtreasures and curios which they laid out all over the room. There was afamous rug of Tasmanian opossum skins, a dozen emu eggs, the tail of alyre-bird, the skin of an immense carpet-snake, a deadly collection ofboomerangs and spears, and a neckla
ce of quandong stones mounted withsilver. Mrs. Edmonstone beheld in silent wonder. As for Fanny, she wasin ecstasies ("It is as good as the Exhibition," she said). So the timeslipped away, and before half the quaint things had been examined anddescribed it was dinner-time. They were all so happy together that firstafternoon!

  Few and simple were the courses at Iris Lodge, but at dessert Mauriceproduced some particular old Benedictine (which had been in the familyas long as he had), and Dick's health was drunk with unspeakableenthusiasm. Dick blushed; for it made what he burned to say moreawkward; but at last he blurted out, apparently appealing to themildewed Benedictine bottle:

  "I say--will you all think me an awful brute if I clear out for an houror two? Mother, will you? You know what I have still to do--whom tosee--to complete my first day in old England."

  "Why, of course!" from the younger ones; and Mrs. Edmonstone simplypronounced the question: "Graysbrooke?"

  "Yes," said Dick. "I must go and see them, you know. You know why, too,"he added simply.

  No one said anything. There was a rather awkward pause, which it fell toFanny to break.

  "By the bye," she said tentatively, "they have a visitor there."

  She was prepared to add further information, but Dick looked at herblankly, and clearly was not listening. They rose from the table, andalmost directly the three who went into the drawing-room heard the frontdoor open and shut.

  Dick was thankful to be out in the cool and the twilight, and alone. Theday had been showery and dull, but late in the afternoon the clouds hadbroken up, and now they floated serenely in the still air, just touchedwith a pale pink rim to westward. The gravelly ground was wet enough tosound crisply underfoot--nothing more. Drip-drip fell the drops from thelaburnums in the gardens all down the road; drip-drip all round, fromtree, shrub, and flower; every leaf distilling perfume every minute.Dick appreciated the evidence of his nostrils with the relish of a manwho has smelt nothing but brine for four months, nothing like this forfour years. Nevertheless, he walked on briskly, down into the Londonroad, that here lies parallel with the river, then down a curve to theleft, as the highroad bends away from the river to form the High Streetof Teddington; then to a full stop at a corner opposite the oldchurchyard. He had intended to walk along the lower road towardsKingston, straight to the gates of Graysbrooke, which fronted the river.But now the thought occurred to him (prompted by the sweetness of theevening, and backed up by the fact that it was as yet rather early todrop in casually for the evening anywhere--even at the house of one'ssweetheart whom one hadn't seen for over four years). How about hiring aboat and rowing to Graysbrooke? It was no distance; and then, only to beafloat again on the dear old Thames! Dick did not hesitate at the cornerlong, but turned sharp down to the left, and hired his shallop at theferry landing.

  Down with the stream a hundred yards, and he was level with the lock; afew strong strokes against the stream, and the way already on the boat,and her nose grounded on the rollers; a minute's exertion, a minute'sfumbling for coppers, and he floated out into the narrow reach beyondthe lock. He paddled slowly along, bestowing friendly glances on thebanks. The cottages on the left, close to the lock, he remembered justas he saw them; but the poplars on the island, inverted in the glassywater--he felt convinced they had grown. With each stroke of the oarsthe voice of the weir grew louder; it seemed to be roaring its roughwelcome to him, just as yonder alders, right across the stream, throughthe danger-posts, were bowing theirs. How glorious it was, this firstrow on the Thames!

  But now the house was almost in sight, and he could think no longer ofthe river. Slowly, as he sculled on, Graysbrooke discovered itself: agray, stone, turreted building, set in leafy trees. There werebattlements along the coping, which might have looked venerable but forthe slates that peeped between them; yet the stone was mellowed by time;and altogether there was nothing either offensively new or unwholesomelyancient in the appearance of the house. Dick saw it all in his mind evenbefore he stopped rowing to satisfy the cravings of his hungry eyes.Still twilight, and the river here a mirror without flaw, every stonehad its duplicate in the clear depths below; that parallelogram of ruddylight that fastened Dick's attention showed with especial sharpness inthe reflection. The light was in the drawing-room. They had finisheddinner. He could storm them now--at once.

  A little inlet entered one end of the lawn; in here he sculled andmoored his boat. Then he sprang upon the close-cropped grass and stoodtransfixed.

  The light in the dining-room was turned low; but that in the room to theright of the hall-door--the room with the French window--was shiningbrightly. And through the open window there burst, as Dick's feettouched the grass, the sound of a girl's song. The voice was low andclear, and full of youth and tenderness; it rose, and fell, andtrembled, for the singer possessed feeling; it hastened here andlingered there, and abused none of these tricks, for she sang with whatis rarer than feeling--taste. Dick trembled violently; he wanted to rushinto the room then and there, but he was thrilled, and rooted to theground; and after a bar or two the voice soothed him and set his spiritat rest, like the touch of a true friend's hand in the hour of pain.Then he stood quite humbly, hoping it would never, never end. What thesong was he didn't know, and never thought of finding out afterwards; hemight have heard it a hundred times or never before; he knew nothingduring these few transported minutes--nothing, except that he waslistening to her voice.

  As the last low note was borne out upon the air, and voices within theroom murmured the conventional grace after song, Dick stepped forward,meaning to boldly enter. Two yards from the window, however, he silentlyhalted; it was so dark that he could see into the room without himselfbeing seen from within. The temptation to avail himself of so obvious anadvantage was too strong to be resisted.

  There were three persons in the room, but for the eyes of Dick onlyone--the two men made no immediate impression on his physicalperception. It was a supreme moment in his life. He had left England forthe sake of a young girl, to make his way in the world so that he mightreturn and proudly claim her: for he had won her heart. And now he hadmade his way through toil and privation to a small fortune, and hadcome back to woo her hand. She was here--this girl for whom he had givenhis early manhood's strength, his brain's essence, the best drops of hislife's blood; this girl whose image had beckoned him onward when he grewfaint, and urged him still further in the hour of success; whose namehad risen to his lips in despair and in peril, inspiring newcourage--here, within ten feet of him; he striving to realise it, and togrow cool before going into her presence, yet yearning to fling himselfat her feet.

  It was good that she was ignorant of his approach, for it showed her tohim in a fair light straight away--completely natural and unconscious ofherself. She had seated herself after her song at a low table, and wasmaking an indolent attack on some trifling work with her scissors. Thelamplight, from under its crimson shade, fell upon her hair and face andneck with marvellous results, for it made her beautiful. She was not atall beautiful. She had a peerless complexion, a good nose, matchlessteeth; otherwise her features were of no account. But she wasexceedingly pretty; and as she sat there with the warm lamplightchanging her ordinary light-coloured hair into a ruddy gold fit for anygoddess, a much less prejudiced person than Dick Edmonstone might havebeen pardoned the notion that she was lovely, though she was not.

  When at last he managed to raise his eyes from her they rested upon aface that was entirely strange. A tall, massive man, in evening dress,leaned with an elbow on the chimneypiece, his head lightly resting onhis hand, one foot on the edge of the fender. There could be no twoopinions as to the beauty of this face--it was handsome and striking tothe last degree. Burnt, like Dick's, to the colour of brick-dust, it wasframed in dark curly hair, with beard and whiskers of a fairer hue,while the mouth was hidden by a still fairer, almost golden, moustache.The effect was leonine. Dick caught his profile, and saw that thesteady, downward gaze was bent upon the dainty little head that glowedin the lamplight. Fr
om his vantage-post outside the window he glancedfrom observer to observed. They were a sufficiently good-looking pair,yet he overrated the one and underrated the other. He was by no meansattracted to this unknown exquisite; there was an ease about his posewhich bespoke freedom also; and his scrutiny of the unconscious girl wasof a kind that would at least have irritated any man in Dick's position.

  Dick allowed his attention to rest but briefly upon the third occupantof the room--a man with snowy hair and whiskers, who was apparentlydropping off to sleep in a big armchair. Somehow or other, the sight ofthe men--but particularly of the stranger--acted on his heart like ashower-bath on a man's head; his pulse slackened, he regained withinterest the self-possession with which he had first approached thewindow. He took three steps forward, and stood in the middle of theroom.

  A startled cry escaped the old man and the girl. The man by thefireplace dropped his forearm and turned his head three inches.

  Dick strode forward and grasped an outstretched hand.

  "Colonel Bristo!"

  "Dick Edmonstone!--is it really Dick?" a well-remembered voice repeateda dozen times. "We knew you were on your way home, but--bless my soul!bless my soul!"

  The old soldier could think of nothing else to say; nor did it matter,for Dick's salute was over and his back turned; he was already claspingthe hand of the fair young girl, who had risen, flushed and breathless,to greet him.

  He was speechless. He tried to say "Alice," but the sound wasinarticulate. Their eyes met.

  A clatter in the fender. The tall man's heel had come down heavily amongthe fire-irons.

  "Let me introduce you," said Colonel Bristo to this man and Dick. "Youwill like to know each other, since you both come from the same country:Mr. Edmonstone, from Australia; Mr. Miles, from Australia! Mr. Miles wasborn and bred there, Dick, and has never been in England before. So youwill be able to compare notes."

  The two men stared at each other and shook hands.