Page:Littell's Living Age - Volume 128.djvu/663

Rh to Galbraith bristled, as to effect a fair division of the property she hoped to prove her own, without letting Galbraith know her identity until it was accomplished.

Kate enjoyed the rare advantage of being in sympathy with her adviser. Generally an adviser is an enemy, whose opinions, ranged under a different banner from one's own, are to be in some way circumvented or twisted into accord with the advised: or, possessing sufficient weight to impose them upon the bearer, they are so often acted upon in an unwilling spirit as to neutralize their possible good effect.

But there was a real accord between Tom Reed and the young widow; even when they differed, each knew that he or she was thoroughly understood by the other.

Fanny was of course in a state of unconcealable joy. She had stolen half an hour in the afternoon to compound a lobster currie for the late dinner or early supper at which Tom was expected. A low and mundane method of preparing for a lover's reception perhaps, in the reader's opinion, but—ask the lover's!

The trains between Stoneborough and Pierstoffe were by no means patterns of punctuality, and the friends agreed not to expect Tom till quite half an hour after he was due. That half an hour was nearly exhausted, when their attention was diverted by the entrance of Mills with a note, an untidy note without an envelope, and fastened by a wafer. It was directed to T. Reed, Esq., in a very intoxicated-looking hand.

"This has just been brought by a boy from the Shakespeare Inn, ma'am, and he wants to know if Mr. Tom is come."

"Say he has not, but we expect him every moment," replied Mrs. Temple, scanning the note critically. "This is from Trapes, no doubt."

"Don't you think we might open it?" insinuated Fanny, laying a couple of covetous little fingers on it. "It is all about yourself, of course. I really think you might read it, Kate."

"You impatient puss! I think we might wait for Tom to read his own correspondence. He will be here in a quarter of an hour if he comes at all."

"Ah. Kate, that is a cruel 'if'!"

"Never fear, Fan—there, there is some conveyance stopping at the door. Here he is, and I shall run away!"

"Indeed, Kate, indeed you need not!"

But Kate was gone. The next moment a hearty hug, a long, loving kiss, put everything and every one save the donor out of Fanny's head. "It seems a hundred years since I saw you, my darling." cried Tom, who, though looking a little thin and worn, was in high spirits and full of animation. "You little, ungrateful, saucy coquette! you are as blooming and bright as if I had been at your elbow all the time! Where is the pale cheek and tear-dimmed eyes that ought to show the sincerity with which you mourned my absence, and the severe mental arithmetic you exercised counting the days till I came?"

"Ah, Tom, I should have had a dash of uncertainty to reduce me to the proper condition of paleness and dimness. But I know you, and I am at rest," a small responsive hug, and some half-uttered ejaculations interrupted, as may be imagined.

"I see I do not go the right way to work to show what a valuable article I am!" cried Tom.

"If you worried, or gave me any trouble, I should not care a straw about you," said Fanny, with a pretty moan.

"Now let me call Kate, she is dying to see you."

"I think she might give us a few minutes more law."

"Oh, here, Tom, is a note for you!" cried Fanny, darting to the mantelpiece and taking it down. "I believe it is from that strange man, Mr. Trapes."

"Trapes!" echoed Tom, in much surprise. "How does he know that I am here?"

"Oh, because—but I will leave Kate to tell everything. Just do look at the note!"

"There! you may discount your rights, if you choose," said Tom, laughing, and handing the scrawled morsel of paper to her.

"What a hand! What is that word?"

Seriously.

"Read it to me, dear Tom."

My dear Reed,—I am seriously ill, and cannot go to see you as I promised Mrs. T. I feel as if I was near the end of the race, and nowhere! Look in on me, like a brick, to-morrow. Yours,

"If Trapes knocks up, he will not last long," said Tom, gravely; "but call Mrs. Travers. I long to hear all about everything!"

"Now tell me how you unearthed Trapes?" asked Tom.