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Updated: May 29, 2025
"So I thought; but one never knows. Unexpected feelings crop up in a fellow. We won't talk about it just now. How have things been going in the architectural line?" "Not amiss. Steadily, I think." Narramore lay back at full length, his face turned to the ceiling. "Since I've been living out yonder, I've got a taste for the country.
Instead of making for the railway station, to take a train back to Dudley, he crossed from the northern to the southern extremity of the town, and by ten o'clock was in one of the streets which lead out of Moseley Road. Here, at a house such as lodges young men in business, he made inquiry for "Mr. Narramore," and was forthwith admitted.
As he proceeded she grew more attentive, and occasionally allowed her eyes to encounter his. "There's only one other person who has heard all this from me," he said at length. "That's a friend of mine at Birmingham a man called Narramore. When I got Dengate's money I went to Narramore, and I told him what use I was going to make of it." "That's what you haven't told me," remarked the listener.
He and Narramore were walking one night in a very poor part of Birmingham, and for some reason they chanced to pause by a shop-window a small window, lighted with one gas-jet, and laid out with a miserable handful of paltry wares; the shop, however, was newly opened, and showed a pathetic attempt at cleanliness and neatness.
Even suppose who made you a judge and a ruler? This is the most comical start I've known for a long time. I was going to tell you that I have made up my mind to marry the girl." "I see it's all right " "But do you really mean," said Narramore, "that anything else would have aroused your moral indignation?" Hilliard burst into a violent fit of laughter.
Hilliard," wrote the girl, "I have just heard from Eve that she is to be married to Mr. Narramore in a week's time. She says you don't know about it; but I think you ought to know. I haven't been able to make anything of her two last letters, but she has written plainly at last. Perhaps she means me to tell you. Will you let me have a line?
At Narramore's request, he mixed two tumblers of whisky toddy, then took a draught from his own, and returned to his former position. "Can't you sit down?" said Narramore. "No, I can't." "What a fellow you are! With nerves like yours, I should have been in my grave years ago. You're going to live, eh?" "Going to be a machine no longer. Can I call myself a man?
"Does it seem a piece of madness?" "You must judge for yourself, Narramore." "When you have seen her I think you'll take my views. Of course it's the very last thing I ever imagined myself doing; but I begin to see that the talk about fate isn't altogether humbug. I want this girl for my wife, and I never met any one else whom I really did want. She suits me exactly.
The young man shook hands with them, raised his hat, and walked away without further speech. It occurred to him that he might overtake Narramore at the station, and in that hope he hastened; but Narramore must have left by a London and North-Western train which had just started; he was nowhere discoverable.
He could bear that conclusion of their story better than any other unless it were her death. Better a thousand times than her marriage with Narramore. In the morning, fatigue gave voice to conscience. He had bidden her go, when, perchance, a word would have checked her. Should he write, or even go to her straightway and retract what he had said? His will prevailed, and he did nothing.
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