“Keziah” he said, in a husky tone, “I likes to know the wust, I does--I purfers it. I’m off to the river, I am, jes’ to show you you’re wrong. Keep up your pluck, old gal, I’ll be back as quick as ever I can.”
He went; traversed both sides of the river between London and Westminster bridges, and crawled home in the morning exhausted, as the clock was striking seven. He threw himself into a chair despondent as ever man in this world was, and said--
“I told you, Keziah, you wus wrong; nobody has drownded themselves this blessed night. I’ve been both sides of the river, from Billin’sgate to Lambeth.”
A loud knock at this instant was given at the street-door. Mr. and Mrs. Bantom came into collision at the lock, and both pulled at it together. It was not Lotte who had knocked, and their countenances fell, for, with hearts beating high with hope, they had fully persuaded themselves she had come “home” at last.
A footman in violet livery met their gaze instead.
He looked at husband and wife, and, with the air and manner of a cabinet minister in his court dress, he said, inquiringly--
“That’s me!” exclaimed husband and wife together.
The footman produced a letter, and handed it to Bantom.
Mr. Bantom could read, but not with ease and rapidity; he could write, too, but his hand was bold and slightly irregular. He was very nervous this morning and the handwriting of the superscription was so delicate a fairy might have penned it. He looked at his wife, opened the envelope, and took out a sheet of delicate note paper, which he unclosed. It contained a Bank of England note, which, with trembling fingers, Bantom spread wide.
“A fi’pun note, ’ep my goodness!” he exclaimed, with astonishment. He mechanically handed the paper which had contained the note to the footman.
“You looks like a good scholard,” he observed;”’jes’ read that pretty writing for me.”
The footman, with a supercilious smile, not sorry to be put in possession of the contents of the note, read asfollows:--
_Lotte sends her “kindest love to Mr. and Mrs. Bantom, and begs them to forgive her for any uneasiness she may have occasioned them. She desires to assure them that though ill, she is quite safe._”
“A-hah-ha-ah!--ah-a-hah-a!” burst from Bantom’s lips, sounds composed of hysterical laughter, and a genuine cry, although the latter was the offspring of joy alone. Mrs. Bantom flung her apron over her head, that the tears she shed might not be visible to the strange young man in violet. She had small need to be ashamed of the honest tears of happiness at the communication thus received of Lotte’s safety.