The car started again. The _gentleman_, furious at the turn of the tide, cried out, "Ho, ho! here's a pretty preacher of the gospel of equality! why, ladies and gentlemen, this high-flyer, who presumes to lecture us, is nothing but a"--
The sentence was cut short in mid-career, the insolent sneer dashed out of his face,--face and form prone on the floor of the car,--while over him bent and blazed the young officer, whose entrance, a little while before, nobody had heeded.
Spurning the prostrate body at his feet, he turned to Francesca, for it was she, and stretched out his hand,--his left hand,--his only one. It was time; all the heat, and passion, and color, had died out, and she stood there shivering, a look of suffering in her face.
"Miss Ercildoune! you are ill,--you need the air,--allow me!" drawing her hand through his arm, and taking her out with infinite deference and care.
"Thank you! a moment's faintness,--it is over now," as they reached the sidewalk.
"No, no, you are too ill to walk,--let me get you a carriage."
Hailing one that was passing by, he put her in, his hand lingering on hers, lingering on the folds of her dress as he bent to arrange it; his eyes clinging to her face with a passionate, woeful tenderness. "It is two years since I saw you, since I have heard from you," he said, his voice hoarse with the effort to speak quietly.
"Yes," she answered, "it is two years." Stooping her head to write upon a card, her lips moved as if they said something,--something that seemed like "I must! only once!" but of course that could not be. "It is my address," she then said, putting the card in his hand. "I shall be happy to see you in my own home."
She hesitated. "Whenever you may call. I thank you again,--and good morning."
Meanwhile the car had moved on its course: outwardly, peaceful enough; inwardly, full of commotion. The conservative gentleman, gathering himself up from his prone estate, white with passion and chagrin, saw about him everywhere looks of scorn, and smiles of derision and contempt, and fled incontinently from the sight.
His coal-heaving _confrère_, left to do battle alone, came to the charge valiant and unterrified. Another outbreak of blasphemy and obscenity were the weapons of assault; the ladies looked shocked, the gentlemen indignant and disgusted.