I told Mr. Craven all this in a breath. When I had done so he
laughed, and said:
"You have worked hard, Patterson. Here is ten pounds. Go and see your
uncle; but leave River Hall alone."
Then, almost with tears, I entreated him not to baulk my purpose. If I
could rid River Hall of its ghost, I would take money from him, not
otherwise. I told him I had set my heart on unravelling the mystery
attached to that place, and I could have told him another mystery at the
same time, had shame not tied my tongue. I was in love--for the first
time in my life--hopelessly, senselessly, with a face of which I thought
all day and dreamed all night, that had made itself in a moment part and
parcel of my story, thus:
I had been at Kentish Town to see one of our clients, and having
finished my business, walked on as far as Camden Town, intending to take
an omnibus which might set me down somewhere near Chancery Lane.
Whilst standing at the top of College Street, under shelter of my
umbrella, a drizzling rain falling and rendering the pavement dirty and
slippery, I noticed a young lady waiting to cross the road--a young lady
with, to my mind, the sweetest, fairest, most lovable face on which my
eyes had ever rested. I could look at her without causing annoyance,
because she was so completely occupied in watching lumbering vans, fast
carts, crawling cabs, and various other vehicles, which chanced at that
moment to be crowding the thoroughfare, that she had no leisure to
bestow even a glance on any pedestrian.
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