No doubt some change was wanted. He must smoke
less--travel less--give himself more variety and more amusement. Well, if
Faversham consented, he should at least have bought for himself a
companionship that was agreeable to him, and relief from a number of
routine occupations which he detested.
Suddenly--a child's voice--a child's shrill voice, ringing through the
gallery--followed by scufflings and hushings, on the part of an older
person--then a wail--and silence. Melrose had risen to his feet with an
exclamation. Some peculiar quality in the voice--some passionate,
thrilling quality--had produced for the moment an extraordinary illusion.
He recovered himself in a moment. It was of course the child of the
upholstress who had been working in the house for a week or so. He
remembered to have noticed the little girl. But the sound had inevitably
suggested thoughts he had no wish to entertain. He had a letter in his
pocket at that moment which he did not mean to answer--the first he had
received for many years. If he once allowed a correspondence to grow
up--with that individual--on the subject of money, there would be no end
to it; it would spread and spread, till his freedom was once more
endangered. He did not intend that persons, who had been once banished
from his life, should reenter it--on any pretext. Netta had behaved to
him like a thief and a criminal, and with the mother went the child. They
were nothing to him, and never should be anything.
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