In spite of the spelling, a curious, tingling sensation stole over me as I read this my first love-letter. A faint mist swam before my eyes. Through it, glorified and softened, I saw the face of my betrothed, pasty yet alluring, her large white fleshy arms stretched out invitingly toward me. Moved by a sudden hot haste that seized me, I dressed myself with trembling hands; I appeared to be anxious to act without giving myself time for thought. Complete, with a colour in my cheeks unusual to them, and a burning in my eyes, I descended and knocked with a nervous hand at the door of the second floor back.
"Who's that?" came in answer Miss Sellars' sharp tones.
"It is I--Paul."
"Oh, wait a minute, dear." The tone was sweeter. There followed the sound of scurried footsteps, a rustling of clothes, a banging of drawers, a few moments' dead silence, and then:
"You can come in now, dear."
I entered. It was a small, untidy room, smelling of smoky lamp; but all I saw distinctly at the moment was Miss Sellars with her arms above her head, pinning her hat upon her straw-coloured hair.
With the sight of her before me in the flesh, my feelings underwent a sudden revulsion. During the few minutes she had kept me waiting outside the door I had suffered from an almost uncontrollable desire to turn the handle and rush in. Now, had I acted on impulse, I should have run out. Not that she was an unpleasant-looking girl by any means; it was the atmosphere of coarseness, of commonness, around her that repelled me. The fastidiousness--finikinness; if you will--that would so often spoil my rare chop, put before me by a waitress with dirty finger-nails, forced me to disregard the ample charms she no doubt did possess, to fasten my eyes exclusively upon her red, rough hands and the one or two warts that grew thereon.
"You're a very naughty boy," told me Miss Sellars, finishing the fastening of her hat. "Why didn't you come in and see me in the dinner-_h_our? I've a great mind not to kiss you."
The powder she had evidently dabbed on hastily was plainly visible upon her face; the round, soft arms were hidden beneath ill-fitting sleeves of some crapey material, the thought of which put my teeth on edge. I wished her intention had been stronger. Instead, relenting, she offered me her flowery cheek, which I saluted gingerly, the taste of it reminding me of certain pale, thin dough-cakes manufactured by the wife of our school porter and sold to us in playtime at four a penny, and which, having regard to their satisfying quality, had been popular with me in those days.
At the top of the kitchen stairs Miss Sellars paused and called down shrilly to Mrs. Peedles, who in course of time appeared, panting.
"Oh, me and Mr. Kelver are going out for a short walk, Mrs. Peedles.
I shan't want any supper. Good night."
"Oh, good night, my dear," replied Mrs. Peedles. "Hope you'll enjoy yourselves. Is Mr. Kelver there?"
"He's round the corner," I heard Miss Sellars explain in a lower voice; and there followed a snigger.
"He's a bit shy, ain't he?" suggested Mrs. Peedles in a whisper.
"I've had enough of the other sort," was Miss Sellars' answer in low tones.
"Ah, well; it's the shy ones that come out the strongest after a bit--leastways, that's been my experience."
"He'll do all right. So long."
Miss Sellars, buttoning a burst glove, rejoined me.
"I suppose you've never had a sweetheart before?" asked Miss Sellars, as we turned into the Blackfriars Road.
I admitted that this was my first experience.
"I can't a-bear a flirty man," explained Miss Sellars. "That's why I took to you from the beginning. You was so quiet."
I began to wish that nature had bestowed upon me a noisier temperament.
"Anybody could see you was a gentleman," continued Miss Sellars.
"Heaps and heaps of hoffers I've had--_h_undreds you might almost say.
But what I've always told 'em is, 'I like you very much indeed as a friend, but I'm not going to marry any one but a gentleman.' Don't you think I was right?"
I murmured it was only what I should have expected of her.
"You may take my harm, if you like," suggested Miss Sellars, as we crossed St. George's Circus; and linked, we pursued our way along the Kennington Park Road.
Fortunately, there was not much need for me to talk. Miss Sellars was content to supply most of the conversation herself, and all of it was about herself.
I learned that her instincts since childhood had been toward gentility. Nor was this to be wondered at, seeing that her family--on her mother's side, at all events,--were connected distinctly with "the _h_ighest in the land." _Mesalliances_, however, are common in all communities, and one of them, a particularly flagrant specimen--her "Mar" had, alas! contracted, having married--what did I think? I should never guess--a waiter! Miss Sellars, stopping in the act of crossing Newington Butts to shudder at the recollection of her female parent's shame, was nearly run down by a tramcar.
Mr. and Mrs. Sellars did not appear to have "hit it off" together.
Could one wonder: Mrs. Sellars with an uncle on the Stock Exchange, and Mr. Sellars with one on Peckham Rye? I gathered his calling to have been, chiefly, "three shies a penny." Mrs. Sellars was now, however, happily dead; and if no other good thing had come out of the catastrophe, it had determined Miss Sellars to take warning by her mother's error and avoid connection with the lowly born. She it was who, with my help, would lift the family back again to its proper position in society.
"It used to be a joke against me," explained Miss Sellars, "heven when I was quite a child. I never could tolerate anything low. Why, one day when I was only seven years old, what do you think happened?"
I confessed my inability to guess.
"Well, I'll tell you," said Miss Sellars; "it'll just show you. Uncle Joseph--that was father's uncle, you understand?"
I assured Miss Sellars that the point was fixed in my mind.
