Sylvia's Lovers - Page 152/290

The people of the house prepared for bed. Their silent guest took no

heed of their mute signs. At length the landlord spoke to him, and

he started, gathered his wits together with an effort, and prepared

to retire with the rest. But before he did so, he signed and

directed the letter to his uncle, leaving it still open, however, in

case some sudden feeling should prompt him to add a postscript. The

landlord volunteered the information that the letter his guest had

been writing must be posted early the next morning if it was going

south; as the mails in that direction only left Newcastle every

other day.

All night long Hepburn wearied himself with passionate tossings,

prompted by stinging recollection. Towards morning he fell into a

dead sound sleep. He was roused by a hasty knocking at the door. It

was broad full daylight; he had overslept himself, and the smack was

leaving by the early tide. He was even now summoned on board. He

dressed, wafered his letter, and rushed with it to the neighbouring

post-office; and, without caring to touch the breakfast for which he

paid, he embarked. Once on board, he experienced the relief which it

always is to an undecided man, and generally is at first to any one

who has been paltering with duty, when circumstances decide for him.

In the first case, it is pleasant to be relieved from the burden of

decision; in the second, the responsibility seems to be shifted on

to impersonal events.

And so Philip sailed out of the mouth of the Tyne on to the great

open sea. It would be a week before the smack reached London, even

if she pursued a tolerably straight course, but she had to keep a

sharp look-out after possible impressment of her crew; and it was

not until after many dodges and some adventures that, at the end of

a fortnight from the time of his leaving Monkshaven, Philip found

himself safely housed in London, and ready to begin the delicate

piece of work which was given him to do.

He felt himself fully capable of unravelling each clue to

information, and deciding on the value of the knowledge so gained.

But during the leisure of the voyage he had wisely determined to

communicate everything he learnt about Dickinson, in short, every

step he took in the matter, by letter to his employers. And thus his

mind both in and out of his lodgings might have appeared to have

been fully occupied with the concerns of others.

But there were times when the miserable luxury of dwelling upon his

own affairs was his--when he lay down in his bed till he fell into

restless sleep--when the point to which his steps tended in his

walks was ascertained. Then he gave himself up to memory, and regret

which often deepened into despair, and but seldom was cheered by

hope.