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Edmonson told his friend of having met one of the guests at Katie Archdale's wedding, but he did not say to him that coming out of Mr. Royal's house and walking quickly down the street, he had met the bridegroom himself, and had returned Archdale's bow with a politeness equally cold, while anger had leaped up within him. Was Archdale going to call upon his wife?
"I tell you," said Edmonson to his companion as they went along, "there is not a shadow of a chance for me. When a woman says, 'no, you can tell by her eyes if she means it, and if there had been the least sign of relenting or a possibility of it in Lady Grace's eyes, do you think I would have given up? She has led me a sorry chase, that pretty sister of yours."
So that the colonel was really left penniless." "Yes, yes, now I see," cried Mrs. Eveleigh. "You are like your father when you come to explanations, Elizabeth; a person can always get at what you mean. Now tell me about the portrait, how it came there, and how in the world Mr. Edmonson found it."
How strange it was, she thought, to spend fourteen days for only five minutes' conversation, and that, too, with one who was no especial friend except through his engagement to Katie. But for all the weariness she was thankful to do it, and grateful to her father. She hoped that she should not catch even a glimpse of Edmonson, and it seemed improbable that she would.
She perceived now the whole truth about Edmonson. She was in a coil of struggle, and perhaps of crime. It seemed as if she herself must be guilty, as all the consequences of what she had supposed the jest of a summer evening rose before her. Yet, for all this imagining, there was in her heart the comfort of innocence.
But he had seen everything, Harwin unhurt rushing toward his assailant, the surgeon wrenching the pistol from the disabled hand that had missed its aim, and Edmonson's face wild with horror at the lodgment that his ball had found. He had seen all, and he comprehended all. Edmonson sat with a terrible fierceness in his face.
Harwin had never seen him before, but he had heard of him, and, through Katie, of his former attentions to Elizabeth, and he divined who had fired that shot meant for himself. "Come up to me," called Edmonson, turning suddenly upon him. "I've no weapon now. My face can't turn you to stone, though I'd be a Medusa to do it. But no, I'll do better than that.
He sipped hastily, without thirst, and handed back the cup. "Thank you," he said. As she turned away, her hand was trembling again. She swept her eyes in the opposite direction from Harwin if he should still be there. Edmonson, after a long glance at her, lay watching him. Here was his evil genius. But for Harwin what would not have been?
You are a good fellow. Don't bother your brains about such nonsense." The third of November, Edmonson and Lord Bulchester sailed from Liverpool in the "Ariel" for Boston. The winds were baffling, and Edmonson and Lord Bulchester had a longer voyage than they had counted upon.
Rather strange ones, to be sure, so strange, and to be come at so strangely, that if I can make anything out of them I shall enjoy it a thousand times more than by any stupid old way of inheritance." "It strikes me, though, you would not object to the stupid if a good plum should fall down on your head from an ancestral tree." Edmonson laughed. "You have me there, Bul," he said.
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