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Page 9
Nevertheless, when I said good-by to him he pressed into my hand a
letter of introduction to his cousin, Captain Stephen Fraser-Freer,
of the Twelfth Cavalry, Indian Army, who, he said, would be glad
to make me at home in London, where he was on furlough at the time
--or would be when I reached there.
"Stephen's a good sort," said Enwright. "He'll be jolly pleased to
show you the ropes. Give him my best, old boy!"
Of course I took the letter. But I puzzled greatly over the affair.
What could be the meaning of this sudden warm attachment that Archie
had formed for me? Why should he want to pass me along to his
cousin at a time when that gentleman, back home after two years in
India, would be, no doubt, extremely busy? I made up my mind I
would not present the letter, despite the fact that Archie had
with great persistence wrung from me a promise to do so. I had met
many English gentlemen, and I felt they were not the sort--despite
the example of Archie--to take a wandering American to their bosoms
when he came with a mere letter. By easy stages I came on to London.
Here I met a friend, just sailing for home, who told me of some sad
experiences he had had with letters of introduction--of the cold,
fishy, "My-dear-fellow-why-trouble-me-with-it?" stares that had
greeted their presentation. Good-hearted men all, he said, but
averse to strangers; an ever-present trait in the English--always
excepting Archie.
So I put the letter to Captain Fraser-Freer out of my mind. I had
business acquaintances here and a few English friends, and I found
these, as always, courteous and charming. But it is to my advantage
to meet as many people as may be, and after drifting about for a
week I set out one afternoon to call on my captain. I told myself
that here was an Englishman who had perhaps thawed a bit in the
great oven of India. If not, no harm would be done.
It was then that I came for the first time to this house on Adelphi
Terrace, for it was the address Archie had given me. Walters let
me in, and I learned from him that Captain Fraser-Freer had not yet
arrived from India. His rooms were ready--he had kept them during
his absence, as seems to be the custom over here--and he was
expected soon. Perhaps--said Walters--his wife remembered the
date. He left me in the lower hall while he went to ask her.
Waiting, I strolled to the rear of the hall. And then, through an
open window that let in the summer, I saw for the first time that
courtyard which is my great love in London--the old ivy-covered
walls of brick; the neat paths between the blooming beds; the
rustic seat; the magic gate. It was incredible that just outside
lay the world's biggest city, with all its poverty and wealth, its
sorrows and joys, its roar and rattle. Here was a garden for
Jane Austen to people with fine ladies and courtly gentlemen--here
was a garden to dream in, to adore and to cherish.
When Walters came back to tell me that his wife was uncertain as to
the exact date when the captain would return, I began to rave about
that courtyard. At once he was my friend. I had been looking for
quiet lodgings away from the hotel, and I was delighted to find that
on the second floor, directly under the captain's rooms, there was
a suite to be sublet.
Walters gave me the address of the agents; and, after submitting to
an examination that could not have been more severe if I had asked
for the hand of the senior partner's daughter, they let me come
here to live. The garden was mine!
And the captain? Three days after I arrived I heard above me, for
the first time, the tread of his military boots. Now again my
courage began to fail. I should have preferred to leave Archie's
letter lying in my desk and know my neighbor only by his tread above
me. I felt that perhaps I had been presumptuous in coming to live
in the same house with him. But I had represented myself to Walters
as an acquaintance of the captain's and the caretaker had lost no
time in telling me that "my friend" was safely home.
So one night, a week ago, I got up my nerve and went to the
captain's rooms. I knocked. He called to me to enter and I stood
in his study, facing him. He was a tall handsome man, fair-haired,
mustached--the very figure that you, my lady, in your
boarding-school days, would have wished him to be. His manner, I
am bound to admit, was not cordial.
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