Grewgious had related the
Bazzard history thus fully, at least quite as much for the
recreation of his ward's mind from the subject that had driven her
there, as for the gratification of his own tendency to be social
and communicative.
'And now, my dear,' he said at this point, 'if you are not too
tired to tell me more of what passed to-day--but only if you feel
quite able--I should be glad to hear it. I may digest it the
better, if I sleep on it to-night.'
Rosa, composed now, gave him a faithful account of the interview.
Mr. Grewgious often smoothed his head while it was in progress, and
begged to be told a second time those parts which bore on Helena
and Neville. When Rosa had finished, he sat grave, silent, and
meditative for a while.
'Clearly narrated,' was his only remark at last, 'and, I hope,
clearly put away here,' smoothing his head again. 'See, my dear,'
taking her to the open window, 'where they live! The dark windows
over yonder.'
'I may go to Helena to-morrow?' asked Rosa.
'I should like to sleep on that question to-night,' he answered
doubtfully. 'But let me take you to your own rest, for you must
need it.'
With that Mr. Grewgious helped her to get her hat on again, and
hung upon his arm the very little bag that was of no earthly use,
and led her by the hand (with a certain stately awkwardness, as if
he were going to walk a minuet) across Holborn, and into Furnival's
Inn.
Pages:
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313