by L. T. Meade
impression that I wanted to buy a new winter hat.They thought me extravagant to come so far for the purpose; theyexpressed disapproval by their looks, if not by their words. They wereall three of them men who thought it waste of breath to argue with awoman.
I offered no explanations. They read their papers and took no notice ofme. When we got to Paddington, George, my youngest brother, offered toput me in an omnibus which would, he said, set me down at Whiteley'sdoor.
"I am not going to Whiteley's," I said.
George stared.
"It is quite the cheapest place for what you want," he replied. "But asyou are so absolutely demoralised, here is another omnibus which willtake you to Regent Circus."
I got into this omnibus, bade George good-bye, and, as I drove away,felt that I had now really my fate in my own hands.
I had never been in London alone before, but I was glad to feel that myheart beat quite evenly, and that I was in no way unduly excited.
"It is quite plain to my mind, Rosamund Lindley," I said, addressingmyself, "that you were meant to be a man. You have the nerve, the calmwhich is generally reserved for the male sex. Here you are in greatLondon, and your pulse doesn't even flutter. Keep up your courage,Rosamund, and you will build the fortunes of your family."
We reached the Circus; the omnibus conductor gave me some directions,and I walked up Oxford Street, stepping lightly, as the young andhopeful should.
I did not know my way beyond a certain point, but policemen directed me,and presently I found myself in an old square, and standing on the stepsof a house whose windows were grimy with dust, and the old knocker ofthe ponderous hall-door rusty from want of use.
"My mother must be mistaken--Cousin Geoffrey must have moved from thishouse," I said to myself.
Nevertheless, I raised the knocker, and made it sound sharply. In thecourse of a minute footsteps were heard in the tiled hall within. Somechains were withdrawn from the door, and a dreary-looking old man puthis head out.
"Is Mr Rutherford at home?"
The old man opened the door an inch wider.
"Eh? What? I'm a trifle deaf," he said.
I repeated my question more distinctly.
"Is Mr Rutherford within?"
"And what may you want with him?"
"My name is Rosamund Lindley. I am his relative. I want to see him."
"Eh, my dear," said the old man; "Geoffrey Rutherford has manyrelatives, many, and they all want to see him. It's wonderful how he'sappreciated! Quite extraordinary, for he does nothing to deserve it.I'll inquire if you can be admitted, Miss--Miss Lindley."
The old man shambled away. He was so inhospitable that he absolutelyleft the chain on the door.
He was absent for nearly ten minutes. I thought he had forgotten allabout me, and was about to knock again, when he reappeared. Withoutsaying a word he removed the chain from the hall-door and flung it wideopen.
He was about the shabbiest-looking servant I ever saw.
"Come this way," he said, when I had stepped into the hall.
He took me down a long passage, and into a room which was only lightedfrom the roof. The furniture of the room was handsome, but coveredeverywhere with dust. The leather of the high-backed chairs wasworm-eaten.
"Sit down, Miss Lindley," he said, motioning to one of them.
And then, to my astonishment, he placed himself before a high desk, andbegan to write.
I am sure I must always have had a quick temper. I thought this oldservant's manners intolerable.
"Go and tell your master, at once, that his relative, Rosamund Lindley,is here," I said. "Go, I am in a hurry."
He dropped his pen, and looked at me with the dawning of a smile playinground his thin lips.
"And pray, who is my master?"
"My cousin, Mr Geoffrey Rutherford."
"I happen to be that individual myself."
I was really startled into jumping out of my seat. I flopped back againwith a very red face, said "Oh!" and felt extremely foolish.
"What is your candid opinion of your Cousin Geoffrey, young lady?" saidthe little man, jumping up and walking over to the fireplace. "He isthe ideal sort of rich cousin, is he not?"
I laughed. My laugh seemed to please the owner of the dirty house. Hesmiled again faintly, looking hard into my face, and said:--"I forgetyour name, tell it to me again."
"Rosamund Lindley."
"Ah, Lindley!" He started slightly. "I have put down no _Lindleys_ inmy list of relatives. Rosamund Lindley! Are you my seventh, eighth, ortenth cousin, child? I have cousins, I assure you, twenty degreesremoved, most affectionate people. Extraordinary! I can't make outwhat they see in me."
"My mother was your first cousin," I said boldly. "Her name was thesame as yours--Rutherford. Before she was married she was known to herfriends as Mary Rutherford."
I expected this remark to make a sensation. It did. The little manturned his back on me, _gazed_ for a couple of minutes into the emptygrate, then flashed round, and pointed to one of the worm-eaten chairs.
"Sit down, Rosamund Lindley, you--you have astonished me. You havegiven me a shock. In short you have mentioned the only relative who isnot--not very affectionate. So you are Mary Rutherford's daughter? Youare not like her. I can't compliment you by saying that you are. Did--did Mary Rutherford send you to me?"
"Most assuredly she did not. I have come entirely of my own free will.I had to coax my mother for a whole week before she would even give meyour address."
"But she gave it at last?"
"I made her."
"She knows you have come then."
"It is impossible for her not to know that I have come. But she isangry--grieved--even frightened. You could not have been at all kind tomy mother long ago, Cousin Geoffrey."
"Hush--chit! Let your mother's name drop out of our conversation. Now,I will sit down near you, and we can talk. You have come to see me ofyour own free will? Granted. You are my relative--not twenty degreesremoved? Granted. Now, what can I do for you. Rosamund Lindley?"
"I want you to help me," I said.
I spoke out quite boldly.
"You are rich, and I am poor. It is more blessed to give than toreceive."
"Ha, ha! You want me to be one of the blessed ones? Very neatly put.Upon my word, you're a brave girl. You quite entertain me. Go on."
My cheeks were very red now, but I was not going to be beaten.
"Cousin Geoffrey," I said, "we are all very poor at home, and I hatebeing poor. We have all to pinch and contrive, and I loathe pinchingand contriving. I have a talent, and I want to cultivate it. I want tobe an artist. I can't be an artist without money. I wish to go to oneof the good schools of art, here in London, and study hard, and work myway up from the very beginning. I have no money to do this, but youhave lots of money. As you are my cousin, I think you ought to give meenough money to learn art at one of the great schools here. I think youought. You are my relative--you ought to help me."
I had flung my words out almost defiantly, but now something seemed tocatch my voice; it broke.
"Oh, Cousin Geoffrey, this means so much to me," I said, half sobbing."How happy you can make me, and I will love you for it. There, I willlove you!"
I knew I was offering him something greater than he could give me. Ifelt we were equals. I ceased to sob, I stood up, and looked him fullin the face.
He returned my gaze with great solemnity. A queer change came over hisvery old face; his eyes were lit by an inward fire. It was impossiblefor me to tell whether he was pleased or not, but unquestionably he wasmoved, even agitated. After a brief pause he came up and took my handin his.
"You are a brave girl, Rosamund Lindley," he said. "You are like yourmother, but you have more spirit than she ever had. You are veryyoung--very, _very_ young, or you would not offer an old man like me--anold miser, a person whose own heart is withered--such a gift as love.What can a withered heart want with love? You
are very young, Rosamund,so I forgive your rash words. I will talk to you, however. Sit nearme. You may open that fresh heart to me if you feel inclined."
Cousin Geoffrey and I talked together for over an hour. At the end ofthat time he told me he was hungry, and that if I had no objection hewould go out and bring in some lunch for us both.
He was now quite confidential and friendly. I made him laugh severaltimes, and although he had apparently turned a deaf ear to my request, Ifancied that I was getting on very well with him.
He made me chain the hall-door after him when he went out, and hepromised that he would not be longer away than he could help. Hebrought in two mutton-chops for our lunch, which he fried himself in themost perfect manner, over a gas-jet in his
