"Mr. Grewgious lives there, Miss," said the watchman, pointing further in.
so Rosa went further in, and, when the clocks were striking ten, stood on P. J. T.'s doorsteps, wondering what P. J. T. had done with his street door.
Guided by the painted name of Mr. Grewgious, she went upstairs and softly tapped and tapped several times. But no one answering, and Mr. Grewgious's door-handle yielding to her touch, she went in, and saw her guardian sitting on a window-seat at an open window, with a shaded lamp placed far from him on a table in a corner.
Rosa drew nearer to him in the twilight of the room. He saw her, and he said in an under-tone: "Good Heaven!"
Rosa fell upon his neck, with tears, and then he said, returning her embrace.
"My child, my child! I thought you were your mother!"
"But what, what, what," he added, soothingly, "has happened? My dear, what has brought you here? Who has brought you here?"
"No one. I came alone."
"Lord bless me!" ejaculated Mr. Grewgious. "Came alone! Why didn't you write to me to come and fetch you?"
"I had no time. I took a sudden resolution. Poor, poor Eddy!"
"Ah, poor fellow, poor fellow!"
"His uncle has made love to me. I cannot bear it," said Rosa, at once with a burst of tears, and a stamp of her little foot; "I shudder with horror of him, and I have come to you to protect me and all of us from him, if you will ?"
"I will!" cried Mr. Grewgious, with a sudden rush of amazing energy. "Damn him!
"Confound his politics.
Frustrate his knavish tricks!
On Thee his hopes to fix?
Damn him again!"
After this most extraordinary outburst, Mr. Grewgious, quite beside himself, plunged about the room, to all appearance undecided whether he was in a fit of loyal enthusiasm, or combative denunciation.
He stopped and said, wiping his face: "I beg your pardon, my dear, but you will be glad to know I feel better. Tell me no more just now, or I might do it again. You must be refreshed and cheered. What did you take last? Was it breakfast, lunch, dinner, tea, or supper? And what will you take next? Shall it be breakfast, lunch, dinner, tea, or supper?"
The respectful tenderness with which, on one knee before her, he helped her to remove her hat, and disentangle her pretty hair from it, was quite a chivalrous sight. Yet who, knowing him only on the surface, would have expected chivalry—and of the true sort, too: not the spurious—from Mr. Grewgious?
