As Alexis had remarked, it was a lovely summer night, and after

quitting the Devonshire I stood idly on the pavement, and gazed about

me in simple enjoyment of the scene.

The finest trees in Hyde Park towered darkly in front of me, and above

them was spread the star-strewn sky, with a gibbous moon just showing

over the housetops to the left. I could not see a soul, but faintly

from the distance came the tramp of a policeman on his beat. The

hour, to my busy fancy, seemed full of fate. But it was favorable to

meditation, and I thought, and thought, and thought. Was I at the

beginning of an adventure, or would the business, so strangely

initiated, resolve itself into something prosaic and mediocre? I had a

suspicion--indeed, I had a hope--that adventures were in store for me.

Perhaps peril also. For the sinister impression originally made upon

me by that ridiculous crystal-gazing scene into which I had been

entrapped by Emmeline had returned, and do what I would I could not

dismiss it.

My cousin's wife was sincere, with all her vulgarity and inborn

snobbishness. And that being assumed, how did I stand with regard to

Rosetta Rosa? Was the thing a coincidence, or had I indeed crossed her

path pursuant to some strange decree of Fate--a decree which Emmeline

had divined or guessed or presaged? There was a certain weirdness

about Emmeline that was rather puzzling.

I had seen Rosa but twice, and her image, to use the old phrase, was

stamped on my heart. True! Yet the heart of any young man who had

talked with Rosa twice would in all probability have been similarly

affected. Rosa was not the ordinary pretty and clever girl. She was

such a creature as grows in this world not often in a century. She was

an angel out of Paradise--an angel who might pass across Europe and

leave behind her a trail of broken hearts to mark the transit. And if

angels could sing as she did, then no wonder that the heavenly choirs

were happy in nothing but song. (You are to remember that it was three

o'clock in the morning.) No, the fact that I was already half in love

with Rosa proved nothing.

On the other hand, might not the manner in which she and Alresca had

sought me out be held to prove something? Why should such exalted

personages think twice about a mere student of medicine who had had

the good fortune once to make himself useful at a critical juncture?

Surely, I could argue that here was the hand of Fate.

Rubbish! I was an ass to stand there at that unearthly hour, robbing

myself of sleep in order to pursue such trains of thought. Besides,

supposing that Rosa and myself were, in fact, drawn together by chance

or fate, or whatever you like to call it, had not disaster been

prophesied in that event? It would be best to leave the future alone.

My aim should be to cure Alresca, and then go soberly to Totnes and

join my brother in practice.




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