"But you neglected to tell me
how to acknowledge the gift." "I could not give an address at the moment," said Auriol. "Well, I am glad to find you have got the use of your arm again,"
observed the iron-merchant; "but I can't say you look so well as when
you left us. You seem paler--eh? what do you think, Ebba?" "Mr. Darcy looks as if he were suffering from mental anxiety rather than
from bodily ailment," she replied timidly. "I am so," replied Auriol, regarding her fixedly. "A very disastrous
circumstance has happened to me. But answer me one question: Has the
mysterious person in the black cloak troubled you again?" "What mysterious person?" demanded Mr. Thorneycroft, opening his eyes. "Never mind, father," replied Ebba. "I saw him last night," she added to
Auriol. "I was sitting in the back room alone, wondering what had become
of you, when I heard a tap against the window, which was partly open,
and, looking up, I beheld the tall stranger. It was nearly dark, but the
light of the fire revealed his malignant countenance. I don't
exaggerate, when I say his eyes gleamed like those of a tiger. I was
terribly frightened, but something prevented me from crying out. After
gazing at me for a few moments, with a look that seemed to fascinate
while it frightened me, he said--'You desire to see Auriol Darcy. I have
just quitted him. Go to Langham Place to-morrow, and, as the clock
strikes two, you will behold him.' Without waiting for any reply on my
part, he disappeared." "Ah, you never told me this, you little rogue!" cried Mr. Thorneycroft. "You persuaded me to come out with you, in the hope of meeting Mr.
Darcy; but you did not say you were sure to find him. So you sent this
mysterious gentleman to her, eh?" he added to Auriol. "No, I did not," replied the other gloomily. "Indeed!" exclaimed the iron-merchant, with a puzzled look. "Oh, then I suppose he thought it might relieve her anxiety. However,
since we have met, I hope you'll walk home and dine with us." Auriol was about to decline the invitation, but Ebba glanced at him
entreatingly. "I have an engagement, but I will forego it," he said, offering his arm
to her. And they walked along towards Oxford Street, while Mr. Thorneycroft
followed, a few paces behind them. "This is very kind of you, Mr. Darcy," said Ebba. "Oh, I have been so
wretched!" "I grieve to hear it," he rejoined. "I hoped you had forgotten me." "I am sure you did not think so," she cried. As she spoke, she felt a shudder pass through Auriol's frame. "What ails you?" she anxiously inquired. "I would have shunned you, if I could, Ebba," he replied; "but a fate,
against which it is vain to contend, has brought us together again." "I am glad of it," she replied; "because, ever since our last interview,
I have been reflecting on what you then said to me, and am persuaded you
are labouring under some strange delusion, occasioned by your recent
accident." "Be not deceived, Ebba," cried Auriol. "I am under a terrible influence. I need not remind you of the mysterious individual who tapped at your
window last night." "What of him?" demanded Ebba, with a thrill of apprehension. "He it is who controls my destiny," replied Auriol. "But what has he to do with me?" asked Ebba. "Much, much," he replied, with a perceptible shudder. "You terrify me, Auriol," she rejoined. "Tell me what you mean--in pity,
tell me?" Before Auriol could reply, Mr. Thorneycroft stepped forward, and turned
the conversation into another channel. Soon after this, they reached the Quadrant, and were passing beneath the
eastern colonnade, when Ebba's attention was attracted towards a man who
was leading a couple of dogs by a string, while he had others under his
arm, others again in his pocket, and another in his breast. It was Mr.
Ginger. "What a pretty little dog!" cried Ebba, remarking the Charles the Second
spaniel. "Allow me to present you with it?" said Auriol. "You know I should value it, as coming from you," she replied, blushing
deeply; "but I cannot accept it; so I will not look at it again, for
fear I should be tempted." The dog-fancier, however, noticing Ebba's admiration, held forward the
spaniel, and said, "Do jist look at the pretty little creater, miss. It
han't its equil for beauty. Don't be afeerd on it, miss. It's as gentle
as a lamb." "Oh you little darling!" Ebba said, patting its sleek head and long
silken ears, while it fixed its large black eyes upon her, as if
entreating her to become its purchaser. "Fairy seems to have taken quite a fancy to you, miss," observed Ginger;
"and she ain't i' the habit o' fallin' i' love at first sight. I don't
wonder at it, though, for my part. I should do jist the same, if I wos
in her place. Vell, now, miss, as she seems to like you, and you seem to
like her, I won't copy the manners o' them 'ere fathers as has stony
'arts, and part two true lovyers. You shall have her a bargin." "What do you call a bargain, my good man?" inquired Ebba, smiling. "I wish I could afford to give her to you, miss," replied Ginger; "you
should have her, and welcome. But I must airn a livelihood, and Fairy is
the most wallerable part o' my stock. I'll tell you wot I give for her
myself, and you shall have her at a trifle beyond it. I'd scorn to take
adwantage o' the likes o' you." "I hope you didn't give too much, then, friend," replied Ebba. "I didn't give hayf her wally--not hayf," said Ginger; "and if so be you
don't like her in a month's time, I'll buy her back again from you. You'll alvays find me here--alvays. Everybody knows Mr. Ginger--that's
my name, miss. I'm the only honest man in the dog-fancyin' line. Ask Mr.
Bishop, the great gunmaker o' Bond Street, about me--him as the nobs
calls the Bishop o' Bond Street--an' he'll tell you." "But you haven't answered the lady's question," said Auriol. "What do
you ask for the dog?" "Do you want it for yourself, sir, or for her?" inquired Ginger. "What does it matter?" cried Auriol angrily. "A great deal, sir," replied Ginger; "it'll make a mater'al difference
in the price. To you she'll be five-an'-twenty guineas. To the young
lady, twenty." "But suppose I buy her for the young lady?" said Auriol. "Oh, then, in coorse, you'll get her at the lower figure!" replied
Ginger. "I hope you don't mean to buy the dog?" interposed Mr. Thorneycroft. "The price is monstrous--preposterous." "It may appear so to you, sir," said Ginger, "because you're ignorant o'
the wally of sich a hanimal; but I can tell you, it's cheap--dirt cheap. Vy, his Excellency the Prooshan Ambassador bought a Charley from me,
t'other week, to present to a certain duchess of his acquaintance, and
wot d'ye think he give for it?" "I don't know, and I don't want to know," replied Mr. Thorneycroft
gruffly. "Eighty guineas," said Ginger. "Eighty guineas, as I'm a livin' man, and
made no bones about it neither. The dog I sold him warn't to be compared
wi' Fairy." "Stuff--stuff!" cried Mr. Thorneycroft; "I ain't to be gammoned in that
way."