Chapter 18: The Perfect Lover

Stella, opening the door for him herself, was at him like a small wild thing.

“I thought you were never coming!”

“Why, it’s not yet half-past five.”

“Half-past five! when I expected papa to bring you with him, and he said you’d be here by five! Come in here; I’ll talk to you!”

She took from him his hat and stick and gloves, and placed them on a table in the hall; then she led him by the sleeve of his coat into a room on the left, and shut the door, and drew a long breath.

“Oh--h--h! So you’ve come at last, my lord! Let me look at you, to make sure that it is you. Oh, Rodney, why have you been so long in coming?”

She put her arms about his neck and drew him down to her and kissed him. He said, softly:

“I do believe you have grown shorter.”

“You wretch! To let a thing like that be your first word to me!”

“It’s such a long way down, though it’s well worth stooping for.”

He kissed her again, tenderly, on her pretty lips--he was an expert in the art of kissing. Because he did it so well, she, not knowing that such skill came of practice, had him kiss her again and again and again, till the breath had half gone out of her body and she was all rapturous palpitation.

“If you only knew what ages it seems since I saw you!”

“Stella, what do you think it has seemed to me? If you only knew what I have gone through!”

“Poor boy! I suppose you have had to bear a good deal.”

“You have no notion what I’ve had to bear.”

That was true enough, or she would not have been as close to him as she was.

“It was bad enough when you didn’t come on Sunday. I suppose you didn’t get back from that Mrs. What’s-her-name, your mother’s friend, in time?”

“My dear, I had a chapter of accidents, and nearly missed the last train; I’ll tell you all about it some day, and you’ll laugh. I didn’t feel like laughing then, I can tell you that.”

“And I didn’t feel like laughing, and I can tell you that. In fact, I--I cried.”

“Stella!”

“I did; it seemed so awful. That was the longest Sunday I ever knew; and then when the evening came I kept expecting you every moment; I kept rushing out of the front door to look for you. Every footstep in the street I thought was yours, and every vehicle the hansom which was bringing you; when it kept getting later and later, and still you didn’t come, I--I fancied all sorts of things, and I simply had to cry.”

“My darling, I would infinitely rather have been with you than where I was.”

That again was true enough; part of the time he had been in the tunnel--a gruesome time.

“What time was it when you did get back?”

“Frightfully late; but--Stella, you won’t tell anyone if I tell you something? Promise!”

“Of course I promise. What--what is it?”

“You can laugh if you like; I don’t mind your laughing a little bit; but I don’t want them to laugh.”

“Why should they laugh?”

“I did come to see you--after I came back.”

“Rodney!”

“At least, I came as far as the outside of the house. I dismissed the cab at the corner; then I walked--or rather sneaked--along the pavement; if a bobby had seen me he’d have been all suspicion--till I reached the house. It was all in darkness; there wasn’t a glimmer of light anywhere.”

“What time was it?”

“About one, perhaps later.”

“Rodney, I’d been in my room hours and hours; but I wasn’t asleep; I was crying in bed.”

“Stella! You were crying! Great Scott! if--if I’d only known it, I’d--I’d have done something.”