"My name is Repington," said the old gentleman.
"And mine, sir, is Lovely, Charles Lovely."
"My nephew--humph--'tis your existence which has attracted me so many miles West."
"I did not think you knew of my existence," said Charles half sneering.
"You never condescended to inform your uncle of your movements."
"Sir," said the nephew, a smile of bitter recollection twisting the corners of his mouth. "I did not flatter myself that any attention on my side was welcome."
"Is that a date in youth's short calendar that breeds a specially sensitive disposition of mind?"
"On the contrary, nephew, you chose to go back to your father."
"Because," replied the uncle, "on a former occasion I was unfortunately compelled to invite your father to leave my house."
"Truly, nephew, I think you are indiscreet for a young man of such fashion."
"I have the right to know," Charles burst out. "In all that I can remember of my childhood, you stood like a shadow in the corner of the room, you were the nightmare that haunted my pillow. You used to write sometimes--oh! I can remember your letters in their fat pursy envelopes. I can smell the sealing wax, black sealing wax, now. My father would go out with an oath and my mother would sit by a window with your letter in her lap, weeping, weeping."
"No, no, I was thinking what a laugh she had once--what a laugh. I expect I was hard--I was--Charles, nephew, give me your hand--I----"
The old man faltered in his speech and, as if the room were dark, groped for our hero's hand; the latter drew back.
"Perhaps I understand your feelings, boy, I've read your poems."
Charles was touched for a moment, but hardened himself as he thought of that wide staircase down which, clutching the balustrade with both hands, he had stumbled alone. A child does not easily forgive a slight, and Charles still regarded his uncle with the eyes of a child.
"Did she speak of me before she died?" murmured the old man with a wistful eagerness.
"She may have spoken," said Mr. Lovely, "the fever was high."
"Or laugh--before she died? Nephew! to-night a young woman came to this inn alone. She smiled like my sister, she laughed like my--like your mother and like your mother she went away with the wrong man."