E Phillips Oppenheim

Aaron Rodd E Phillips Oppenheim

A queer, unexpected streak of sunshine, which by some miracle had found its way through apall of clouds and a low-hanging mist, suddenly fell as though exhausted across the asphalt pathof the Embankment Gardens. A tall, gaunt young man, who had been seated with folded arms inthe corner of one of the seats, stared at it as though bewildered. His eyes suddenly met those of ayoung lady in deep black, who was gazing about her in similar stupefaction. Almost at once, andwith perfect spontaneity, she smiled upon him."But it is astonishing, this!" she exclaimed. "Sunshine in London-in January!"The young man was a little confused. He was very diffident, and such lack of conventionalityon the part of a perfect stranger surprised him."It is unusual," he admitted."It is a thing which I have never seen," she went on, dropping voice a little and glancingtowards a bath-chair close at hand, in which an elderly and very delicate-looking old gentlemanwas muffled up in furs and apparently asleep. "It is something, even, for which I had not dared tohope. We seem so far here from everything that is bright and beautiful and cheerful."Aaron Rodd, who was a shy and awkward being, felt unexpectedly at his ease. He was evenanxious for further conversation. He had a rather long, pale face, with deep-set eyes and ruggedfeatures. He was soberly, even sombrely dressed in dismal black. He had the air of a recluse. Perhaps that was why the young lady smiled upon him with such confidence."You are not English?" he ventured. She shook her head."What we are now, alas!" she sighed, glancing towards the bath-chair, "I scarcely know, forwe have no country. Like every one else in such a plight, we come to England."