Jacky S - Suburban Souls, Book I

The glow of the lamp showed me her black and sullen frowning face, as she closed the door angrily. Through the blinding rain, I ran to the station. The last train had left, just five minutes before and I was stranded about ten miles from Paris.

I turned back and tried two infamous inns, to see if I could get a bed for the night. The first one never answered, and at the second, a ferocious dog drove me away.

It was no use lamenting. I had half a mind to return to the villa, but I was fearful lest Lilian should be unable to hear me, or that I might wake the servant, or Granny; so I started to walk. The ten or eleven miles did not frighten me, but the road was far from being safe. To be stabbed, or thrown into a river or a canal for a few pounds, is not very nice. I thought of this, as I stumbled along all in the dark, my little parcel of books in my hand, and Lilian's money in my pocket. I lost my way, regained it, slipped and fell in the mud, and as I picked myself up, saw a carriage approaching. I had walked two or three miles. I asked for a lift to Paris. Luckily for me, it was an empty brougham going to Pantin only. I arranged to give the man five francs, and I jumped in and found a rug on the seat. I lit a cigar and made myself comfortable until I got to Pantin. The rain had ceased. I paid the man and gaily tramped through the silent streets.

Before getting into bed at about three in the morning, I opened the parcel and looked through the books. In Flossie and The Yellow Room, I found several heavy, black thumbmarks. Papa, beyond a doubt, had read these volumes with Lilian.

I laughed grimly to myself as I jumped into bed, and with a loud and merry: “Good night, Lilian!” addressed to my solitary pillow, I turned on my side and was soon snoring. But at half-past eight, I was up and dressed, and with my faithful comrade Smike was soon at the bedside of my sweet, suffering, unsuspicious mistress.