"I suppose he remembered that I was still in the town," replied Comethup quietly. "When do you return to London?"
"Immediately; it is useless for me to stay here. I must discover my erring boy; I can not rest until I have effected a reconciliation with him."
Comethup was glad to bring the interview to an end. He left Mr. Robert Carlaw smilingly fingering a cheque, and came out into the cool night air. Even then he did not care to go back to the cottage; he wandered on, stumbling now and then like a man half asleep, and came back presently to the broken gates of the garden in which he had walked so often with her. In the darkness of it he almost fancied that there hovered the white figure of the child he had seen as a boy; he almost thought he heard the piteous, pleading, childish voice calling to him from among the trees. He laid his arms against one of the trees, and rested his head upon them, and remained there in the solitary place for quite a long time. He did not weep; the bitterness of the thing lay too deep for tears. Young though he was, he looked up at the stars that were peeping through the branches, and wondered how he should live and what he should do, and how the world would go on, now that she had left it empty. He took the letter out of his pocket and put it to his lips, for she had written it, and there was some small consolation even in that.
How should he tell them? That was his next thought; how to get the miserable business explained, so that it might afterward be set aside and forgotten and done with. He waited for some time outside the captain's cottage, debating what to do, and finally crept in cautiously and stood just within the doorway of the room, and beckoned to the captain. His aunt sat with her back to him, and was quite unaware of his presence.
The captain stared at him for a moment as though he had been a ghost, then rose, and, with a muttered word of apology to Miss Carlaw, came out to him. Not a word was said until they stood outside in the little garden, with the cottage door closed and the two men looking into each other's eyes.
"She's gone!" said Comethup; and for the first time, with his old friend's hand in his, his fortitude gave way and he turned his head aside. "She's gone away, this afternoon, with the man she loves--gone to be married. You see, sir, I made a mistake--put her in a false position, as it were. But, of course, it is all right now--and she's gone to be married."