The Lighted Way | Page 4

London life. He turned
away and took up a bundle of letters.
"Can't say, I'm sure, what the governor expects," he replied, falsely.
"You'll have to do the best you can, I suppose. Better get on with those
invoices now."

Once more the office resounded to the hum of its varied labors. Mr.
Jarvis, dictating letters to a typist, smiled occasionally as he pictured
the arrival of this over-favored young man in the drawing-room of Mrs.
Weatherley, attired in the nondescript fashion which his words had
suggested. One or two of the clerks ventured upon a chaffing remark.
To all appearance, the person most absorbed in his work was the young
man who had been singled out for such especial favor.


CHAPTER II
RUTH
In the topmost chamber of the last of a row of somber gray stone
houses in Adam Street a girl with a thin but beautiful face and large,
expectant eyes sat close to the bare, uncurtained window, from which it
was possible to command a view of the street below. A book which she
had apparently been reading had fallen neglected onto the floor.
Steadfastly she watched the passers-by. Her delicate, expressive
features were more than once illuminated with joy, only to be clouded,
a moment later, with disappointment. The color came and went in her
cheeks, as though, indeed, she were more sensitive than her years.
Occasionally she glanced around at the clock. Time dragged so slowly
in that great bare room with its obvious touch of poverty!
At last a tall figure came striding along the pavement below. This time
no mistake was possible. There was a fluttering handkerchief from
above, an answering wave of the hand. The girl drew a sigh of
inexpressible content, moved away from the window and faced the
door, with lifted head waiting for the sound of footsteps upon the stairs.
They arrived at last. The door was thrown open. Arnold Chetwode
came hastily across the room and gripped the two hands which were
held out to him. Then he bent down and kissed her forehead.
"Dear little Ruth!" he exclaimed. "I hope you were careful crossing the

landing?"
The girl leaned back in her chair. Her eyes were fixed anxiously upon
his face. She completely ignored his question.
"The news at once!" she insisted. "Tell me, Arnold!"
He was a little taken aback.
"How did you know that I had any?"
She smiled delightfully.
"Know, indeed! I knew it directly I saw you, I knew it every time your
foot touched the stairs. What is it, Arnold? The cheeses didn't smell so
bad to-day? Or you've had a rise? Quick! I must hear all about it."
"You shall," Arnold replied. "It is a wonderful story. Listen. Have you
ever heard the fable of Dick Whittington?"
"Married his employer's daughter, of course. What's she like, Arnold?
Have you seen her? Did you save her life? When are you going to see
her again?"
Chetwode was already on his knees, dragging out an old trunk from
underneath the faded cupboard. Suddenly he paused with a gesture of
despair.
"Alas!" he exclaimed. "My dream fades away. Old Weatherley was
married only last year. Consequently, his daughter--"
"He can't have one," she interrupted, ruthlessly. "Tell me the news at
once?"
"I am going to dine with old Weatherley," he announced.
The girl smiled, a little wistfully.
"How funny! But you will get a good dinner, won't you, Arnold? Eat

ever so much, dear. Yesterday I fancied that you were getting thin. I do
wish I could see what you have in the middle of the day."
"Little mother!" he laughed. "To-day I gorged myself on poached eggs.
What did Isaac give you?"
"Mutton stew and heaps of it," the girl replied, quickly. "To-night I
shall have a bowl of milk as soon as you are gone. Have you everything
you ought to have to wear, Arnold?"
"Everything," he declared, rising to his feet with a sigh of relief. "It's so
long since I looked at my clothes that to tell you the truth I was a little
bit anxious. They may be old-fashioned, but they came from a good
man to start with."
"What made Mr. Weatherley ask you?" she demanded.
"Wanted one of his clerks to fill up and found that I played bridge,"
Arnold answered. "It's rather a bore, isn't it? But, after all, he is my
employer."
"Of course you must go and behave your very nicest. Tell me, when
have you to start?"
"I ought to be changing in a quarter of an hour. What shall we do till
then?"
"Whatever you like," she murmured.
"I am coming to sit at the window with you," he said. "We'll look down
at the river and you shall tell me stories