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A minute later he was ten years forward. He was seated in the smoking-room of the Victoria Hotel at Euston, and he and Ralston were alone. Ralston was talking. 'The soul, he said, 'makes experiments. It writes its notes on the body, and, having learned its own lesson, it throws the paper away. We lose to learn value. We shall know better next time.
'The best of magnets won't draw lead, said Ralston, and at the time Paul was puzzled by the phrase, but he blushed with pleasure when he recalled it later on. 'And Browning? 'Ugh! said Paul. 'Ah, well, that's natural. But, mind you, Mr. Armstrong, in a year or two you'll feel humiliated to think of your present position. They talked, marching up and down the platform, until the train came.
It meant that Tommy was very ill, that he might be dying. All that was great in Stella rose up impulsively at the call. Tommy had never really wanted her before. To Mrs. Ralston who at the last stood over her with a glass of wine she was as a different woman.
One thing: the fellow evidently believes in the story of her death. Yours, etc., J. M. LORD. The three, Mrs. Ralston, Claire and Mr. Allyne, listened in silence while Mrs. Keith read this letter. When at last she raised her eyes, Mrs. Ralston said: "I must go to New York immediately, Mrs. Keith, and do, pray, allow Claire to accompany me. I must accept of the hospitality of Mrs.
The two listeners recoil with horror, at the sound of the vindictive wish from dying lips. These are the last words of Edward Percy. Slowly go the minutes, and deeper grow the shadows. Again Clarence Vaughan bends above the couch, and then he says: "Your vigil is ended, Mrs. Ralston. He is dead."
This was Ralston. What should bring Paul from the inky apron, and the dusty type-cases, and the battered old founts of metal, and the worm-eaten old founts of wood, and the slattern bankrupt office into the society of such a man as this? The Exile dreamed his dream, and a year was gone in a breath. The Armstrong household was asleep. It was one o'clock noon of the slumberous hours.
Netta also arose at this juncture. "Oh, do take that horrible thing away!" she said. "If it's dead, so much the better. It was no more than a weasel after all. I hate such pets." Major Ralston found himself abruptly though not roughly pushed aside. Bernard Monck swooped down with the action of a practised footballer and took the furry thing out of Tessa's hold.
Though Major Ralston had been engaged upon the same task, she realized that it was his effort alone that had brought Tommy back. And she saw it clearly it was sheer love and nought else that had obtained the mastery.
He rode off quickly when he had ended, like a man who understands that he has said too much, and then halted and returned. "You will not tell that story?" he said. "No," answered Ralston abstractedly. "I shall never tell that story." He understood the truth at last. So that was the message which Shere Ali had sent. No wonder, he thought, that the glare broadened over Chiltistan.
Ralston raised herself to a sitting posture, and then slowly arose from the bed and stood upright before them, and there was a flush on her cheek, and a light in her eyes that was new to that usually pale, sad face.
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