Lucile :: :: University of Virginia Library

Whilst over this card Alfred vacantly brooded,
A waiter his head thro' the doorway protruded;
‘Sir Ridley MacNab with Milord wish'd to speak.’
Alfred Vargrave could feel there were tears on his cheek;
He brush'd them away with a gesture of pride.
He glanced at the glass; when his own face he eyed,
He was scared by its pallor. Inclining his head,
He with tones calm, unshaken, and silvery, said
‘Sir Ridley may enter.’

In three minutes more
That benign apparition appear'd at the door.
Sir Ridley, releas'd for a while from the cares
Of business, and minded to breathe the pure airs
Of the blue Pyrenees, and enjoy his release,
In company there with his sister and niece,
Found himself now at Serchon—distributing tracts,
Sowing seed by the way, and collecting new facts

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For Exeter Hall; he was starting that night
For Bigorre: he had heard, to his cordial delight,
That Lord Alfred was there, and, himself, setting out
For the same destination: impatient, no doubt!
Here some commonplace compliments as to ‘the marriage’
Through his speech trickled softly, like honey: his carriage
Was ready. A storm seem'd to threaten the weather:
If his young friend agreed, why not travel together?

With a footstep uncertain and restless, a frown
Of perplexity, during this speech, up and down
Alfred Vargrave was striding; but, after a pause
And a slight hesitation, the which seem'd to cause
Some surprise to Sir Ridley, he answer'd—‘My dear
‘Sir Ridley, allow me a few moments here—
‘Half an hour at the most—to conclude an affair
‘Of a nature so urgent as hardly to spare
‘My presence (which brought me, indeed, to this spot),
‘Before I accept your kind offer.’

‘Why not?’
Said Sir Ridley, and smiled. Alfred Vargrave, before
Sir Ridley observed it, had pass'd through the door.
A few moments later, with footsteps revealing
Intense agitation of uncontroll'd feeling,
He was rapidly pacing the garden below.
What pass'd through his mind then is more than I know.
But before one half-hour into darkness had fled,
In the courtyard he stood with Sir Ridley. His tread

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Was firm and composed. Not a sign on his face
Betray'd there the least agitation. ‘The place
‘You so kindly have offer'd,’ he said, ‘I accept.’
And he stretch'd out his hand. The two travellers stepp'd
Smiling into the carriage.

And thus, out of sight,
They drove down the dark road, and into the night.
Who can answer where any road leads to?