Then I hastened to the steamship company's office in Bowling Slip, and engaged staterooms for my sister and myself aboard the _Egmont_ which was to sail promptly at noon on Monday the 14th.
Yet, despite these precautionary measures, a heavy load of anxiety lay upon my heart. What if Fairchild should suffer the operation to proceed, notwithstanding my protest? I could not banish that contingency from my mind, nor its ghastly _corollaries_ from my imagination.
|Though by no means so stormy as that described by Fairchild, our voyage was an unconscionably long one. To say nothing of fogs and head winds, an accident befell our machinery, whereby we were compelled to lie to for sixteen precious hours, while the damage was repaired. We did not make Cherbourg till the afternoon of Friday, January 25.
Ashore, my first act was to enquire when a train would leave for Paris. A train would leave at midnight, due at the capital at half past nine in the morning. My next act was to telegraph Fairchild, informing him of our arrival, and warning him to expect us on the morrow.
At half past nine to the minute, Saturday, we drew into the Gare St. Lazare. We were a little surprised not to find Fairchild there to meet us, and perhaps also a little disturbed. Was Miriam so ill that he dared not leave her? After seeing our luggage through the Customs House, we got into a cab, and were driven to the Hôtel de la Bourdonnaye.
“Monsieur Fairchild is in his room, Monsieur.”
“Pardon, Monsieur. If Monsieur will have the goodness to send up his card---”
“Josephine,” I exclaimed, “how do you account for this? Apparently we are not expected. He does not meet us at the railway station; and here at his hotel we are required to send up our card.”
“Well, send it up. We shall soon have an explanation,” Josephine said; and I acted upon her advice.
“What! Arrived!” he cried, seizing each of us by a band. “Your steamer was overdue; when did you get in? Why didn't you telegraph from Cherbourg?”
“Why _didn't_ I telegraph? But I did. Do you mean to say you haven't received my despatch?”
“Not the ghost of one. If I'd known you were coming this morning---- But wait.”
He stepped into the office of the hotel. Issuing thence in a moment, “There!” he cried, exhibiting a blue envelope, “here's your telegram. In America I should have received it twelve hours ago. But they manage these things better in France. It came last night, after I'd gone to bed and the authorities of this hostelery were too considerate to wake me. Then this morning, they say, they thought I was so much occupied that, they would do best to wait about delivering it till I was at leisure. That's French courtesy with a vengeance. However, you're safely arrived at last, and that's the important thing.”