CHAPTER XXXIV. A CHECK
Marian was at work as usual in the Reading-room. She did her
best, during the hours spent here, to convert herself into the
literary machine which it was her hope would some day be invented
for construction in a less sensitive material than human tissue. Her eyes seldom strayed beyond the limits of the desk; and if she had occasion to rise and go to the reference shelves, she looked at no one on the way. Yet she herself was occasionally an object of interested regard. Several readers were acquainted with the chief facts of her position; they knew that her father was now incapable of work, and was waiting till his diseased eyes should be ready for the operator; it was surmised, moreover, that a good deal depended upon the girl's literary exertions. Mr Quarmby and his gossips naturally took the darkest view of things; they were convinced that Alfred Yule could never recover his sight, and they had a dolorous satisfaction in relating the story of Marian's legacy. Of her relations with Jasper Milvain none of these persons had heard; Yule had never spoken of that matter to any one of his friends.
Jasper had to look in this morning for a hurried consultation of
certain encyclopaedic volumes, and it chanced that Marian was
standing before the shelves to which his business led him. He saw
her from a little distance, and paused; it seemed as if he would
turn back; for a moment he wore a look of doubt and worry. But
after all he proceeded. At the sound of his 'Good-morning,'
Marian started—she was standing with an open book in hand—and
looked up with a gleam of joy on her face.
'I wanted to see you to-day,' she said, subduing her voice to the
tone of ordinary conversation. 'I should have come this evening.'
'You wouldn't have found me at home. From five to seven I shall
be frantically busy, and then I have to rush off to dine with
some people.'
'I couldn't see you before five?'
'Is it something important?'
'Yes, it is.'
'I tell you what. If you could meet me at Gloucester Gate at
four, then I shall be glad of half an hour in the park. But I
mustn't talk now; I'm driven to my wits' end. Gloucester Gate, at
four sharp. I don't think it'll rain.'
He dragged out a tome of the 'Britannica.' Marian nodded, and
returned to her seat.
At the appointed hour she was waiting near the entrance of
Regent's Park which Jasper had mentioned. Not long ago there had
fallen a light shower, but the sky was clear again. At five
minutes past four she still waited, and had begun to fear that
the passing rain might have led Jasper to think she would not
come. Another five minutes, and from a hansom that rattled hither
at full speed, the familiar figure alighted.
'Do forgive me!' he exclaimed. 'I couldn't possibly get here
before. Let us go to the right.'
They betook themselves to that tree-shadowed strip of the park
which skirts the canal.
'I'm so afraid that you haven't really time,' said Marian, who
was chilled and confused by this show of hurry. She regretted
having made the appointment; it would have been much better to
postpone what she had to say until Jasper was at leisure. Yet
nowadays the hours of leisure seemed to come so rarely.
'If I get home at five, it'll be all right,' he replied. 'What
have you to tell me, Marian?'
'We have heard about the money, at last.'
'Oh?' He avoided looking at her. 'And what's the upshot?'
'I shall have nearly fifteen hundred pounds.'
'So much as that? Well, that's better than nothing, isn't it?'
'Very much better.'
They walked on in silence. Marian stole a glance at her
companion.
'I should have thought it a great deal,' she said presently, 'before I had begun to think of thousands.'
'Fifteen hundred. Well, it means fifty pounds a year, I suppose.'
He chewed the end of his moustache.