Sinister Street Compton Mackenzie (good novels to read in english .TXT) 📖

going to be the best life possible for her. You’re a woman of the world, Mrs. Gainsborough⁠—”

“I was once,” she corrected. “And a very naughty world it was, too.”

“You were glad, weren’t you, when the Captain brought you to this house? You were glad to feel secure? You would have married him?”

“No, I wouldn’t marry him. I preferred to be as I am. Still that’s nothing for Lily to go by. She’s more suited for marriage than what I was.”

“Don’t you think,” Michael went on eagerly, “that if after six years I’m longing to marry her, I ought to marry her? I know that she might be much worse off than she is, but equally she might be much better off. Look here, Mrs. Gainsborough, it’s up to you. You’ve got to make it possible for me to see her. You’ve got to.”

“But if I do anything like that,” said Mrs. Gainsborough, “it means I have an unpleasantness with Sylvia. That girl’s a regular heathen when she turns nasty. I should be left all alone in my little house. And what with Spring coming on and all, and the flowers looking so nice in the garden, I should feel very much the square peg in the round hole.”

“Lily and I would come and see you,” he promised. “And I don’t think Sylvia would leave you. She’d never find another house like Mulberry Cottage or another landlady like you.”

“Yes, I daresay; but you can’t tell these things. Once she’s in her tantrums, there’s no saying what will happen. And, besides, I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“I want you to send me word the first moment that Lily’s alone for an hour; and when I ring, do answer the bell.”

“Now that wasn’t my fault yesterday,” said Mrs. Gainsborough. “Really I thought we should have the fire-escape in. The way you nagged at that poor bell! It was really chronic. But would she let me so much as speak to you, even with the door only on the jar? Certainly not! And all the time she was snapping round the house like a young crocodile. And yet I’m really fond of that girl. Well, when the Captain died, she was a daughter to me. Oh, she was, she was really a daughter to me. Well, you see, his sister invited me to the funeral, which I thought was very nice, her being an old maid and very strict. Now, I hardly liked to put on a widow’s cap and yet I hardly didn’t like to. But Sylvia, she said not on any account, and I was very glad I didn’t, because there was a lot of persons there very standoffish, and I should have been at my wits to know whatever I was going to say.”

“Look here,” said Michael. “When the Captain gave you this house, he loved you. You were young, weren’t you? You were young and beautiful? Well, would you like to think your house was going to be used to separate two people very much in love with each other? You can say I climbed over the wall. You can make any excuse you like to Sylvia. But, Mrs. Gainsborough, do, do let me know when Lily is going to be alone. If she doesn’t want to come away with me, it will be my fault, and that will be the end of it. If only you’ll help me at the beginning. Will you? Will you promise to help me?”

“I never could resist a man,” sighed Mrs. Gainsborough, with resignation. “There’s a character! Oh, well, it’s my own and no one else’s, that’s one good job.”

Michael had to wait until February was nearly over before he heard from her. It had been very difficult to remain quietly at Cheyne Walk, but he knew that if he were to show any sign of activity, Sylvia would carry Lily off again.

“A person to see you, sir,” said the tortoise-mouthed parlormaid.

Michael found Mrs. Gainsborough sitting in the hall. She was wearing a bonnet tied with very bright cerise ribbons.

“They’ve had a rumpus, the pair of them, this afternoon. And Sylvia’s gone off in the sulks. I really was quite aggravated with her. Oh, she’s a willful spitfire, that girl, sometimes. She really is.”

Michael was coming away without a coat or hat, and Mrs. Gainsborough stopped him.

“Now don’t behave like a silly. Dress yourself properly and don’t make me run. I’m getting stout, you know,” she protested.

“We’ll get a hansom.”

“What, ride in a hansom? Never! A four-wheeler if you like.”

It was difficult to find a four-wheeler, and Michael was nearly mad with impatience.

“Now don’t upset yourself. Sylvia won’t be back tonight, and there’s no need to tug at me as if I was a cork in a bottle. People will think we’re a walking poppy-show, if you don’t act more quiet. They’re all turning round to stare at us.”

A four-wheeler appeared presently, and very soon they were walking down Tinderbox Lane. Michael felt rather like a little boy out with his nurse, as he kept turning back to exhort Mrs. Gainsborough to come more quickly. She grew more and more red in the face, and so wheezy that he was afraid something would happen to her, and for a few yards made no attempt to hurry her along. At last they reached Mulberry Cottage.

“Supposing Sylvia has come back!” he said.

“I keep on telling you she’s gone away for the night. Now get on indoors with you. You’ve nearly been my death.”

“I say, you don’t know how grateful I am to you!” Michael exclaimed, turning round and grasping her fat hands.

Mrs. Gainsborough shouted upstairs to Lily as loudly as her breathlessness would permit:

“I’ve brought you back that surprise packet I promised.”

Then she vanished, and Michael waited for Lily at the foot of the stairs. She came down very soon, looking very straight and slim in her philamot frock of Chinese crape that so well became her. Soon she was in his arms and glad enough to be petted after Sylvia’s rages.

“Lily, how