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"Whose rug is she sitting on?" I said. "Pomfret's." "Pomfret is but the bailee of the rug, Alice." "Oh," she cried, "he's going to be a barrister!" "Talking of cats," I said stiffly, "and speaking as counsel of five years' standing " I stopped, for she was on her feet now, facing me, and standing very close, with her hands behind her and a tilted chin, looking into my eyes.
He also wrote this year the preface to a translation of Oedipus Tyrannus, by Thomas Maurice, in Poems and Miscellaneous Pieces. See ante, ii. 272. See ante, ii. 107. See ante, iii. 126. 'Perhaps no composition in our language has been oftener perused than Pomfret's Choice. Johnson's Works, vii. 222.
C. seriously ill. That was all. Mrs. C. could, of course, only mean Mrs. Christopherson. I mused over the message it took hold of my imagination, wrought upon my feelings; and that afternoon I again walked along the interesting street. There was no face at the window. After a little hesitation I decided to call at the house and speak with Pomfret's aunt. It was she who opened the door to me.
"Nay, sir, but I won't pretend to sleep in the house, if Franklin isn't to have a blunderbuss, and I a BAGGONET." "You shall have both, indeed, Mrs. Pomfret; but don't make such a noise, for everybody will hear you." The love of mystery was the only thing which could have conquered Mrs. Pomfret's love of talking.
One unforeseen result of Mrs. Pomfret's arrangement was that the first eleven rows were vacant, with the exception of one old man and five or six schoolboys. Such is the courage of humanity in general!
"Your horses don't frighten," he had said. "No, but I wanted to speak to you, Humphrey," Mrs. Pomfret had replied; "you are becoming so important that nobody ever has a glimpse of you. I wanted to tell you what an interest we take in this splendid thing you are doing." "Well," said Mr. Crewe, "it was a plain duty, and nobody else seemed willing to undertake it." Mrs. Pomfret's eyes had flashed.
"Your horses don't frighten," he had said. "No, but I wanted to speak to you, Humphrey," Mrs. Pomfret had replied; "you are becoming so important that nobody ever has a glimpse of you. I wanted to tell you what an interest we take in this splendid thing you are doing." "Well," said Mr. Crewe, "it was a plain duty, and nobody else seemed willing to undertake it." Mrs. Pomfret's eyes had flashed.
Crewe; "I'll try to come tonight, but I may be stopped again. Here's Waters now." The three people in Mrs. Pomfret's victoria were considerably impressed to see the dignified Waters hurrying down the slope from the house towards them. Mr. Crewe continued to tap the trees, but drew a little nearer the carriage. "If you please, sir," said Waters, "there's a telephone call for you from Newcastle.
Mr. Crewe was a little late. Important matters, he said, had detained him at the last moment, and he particularly enjoined Mrs. Pomfret's butler to listen carefully for the telephone, and twice during lunch it was announced that Mr. Crewe was wanted.
Without ringing the bell Victoria slipped into the hall, for the latch was not caught, and her first impulse was to run up the staircase to her room. But she heard Mrs. Pomfret's voice on the landing above and fled, as to a refuge, into the dark drawing-room, where she stood for a moment motionless, listening for the sound of his sleigh-bells as they fainted on the winter's night.
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