CHAPTER XXIII.
A MAGIC LETTER.
"Oh here you are at last then, are you?" said somebody entering the roomwith a light, by the time the young lady had wept herself dry, and wasbeginning to feel hungry; "what made you come here? I thought you weregone. To me it is a surprising thing, that you have the assurance tostay in this house."
"Oh, Jemmy, how can you be so cruel, when every bit of it was for you?"
"For me indeed! I am very much obliged. For your own temper, I shouldsay. Old Webber says that if she dies, there may be a verdict ofmanslaughter."
"I don't care two pins, if there is; when all the world is so unjust tome. But how is she, Jemmy? What has happened to her? What on earth is itall about?"
"Well, I think you ought to know that best. Webber says he never heardany one like you, in all his experience of Criminal Courts."
"Much I care what he says--the old dodderer! You should have seen himhopping about the room, like a frog with the rheumatism. You should haveseen him stare, when the bell-rope fell. When I said the poor thing'shands were cold, he ran and poked the fire with his spectacles. Butcan't you tell me how she is? Surely I have a right to know, if I am tobe manslaughtered."
"Well," replied Dr. Fox, with that heavy professional nod which heridiculed in others; "she is in a very peculiar state. No one can tellwhat may come of it."
"Not a fit, Jemmy? Not like dear father's; not a mild form of--no, itseemed quite different."
"It is a different thing altogether, though proceeding probably from thebrain. An attack of what we call catalepsy. Not at all a common thing,and quite out of my own experience, though I know of it from the books alittle. Gronow knew it, of course, at a glance. Fortunately I had senseenough not to try any strong measures till he came. Any other youngfellow in this part of the world would have tried venesection instantly,and it might have killed her. My treatment happened to be quite right,from my acquaintance with principles. It is nothing less than a case ofentirely suspended animation. How long it may last, none can foretell."
"But you don't think it will kill her, Jemmy? Why my animation wassuspended ever so long, the other day----"
"That was quite a different thing--this proceeds from internal action,overpowering emotion in a very anaemic condition; yours was simplyexternal concussion, operating on a rather highly charged----"
"You are very polite. My own fault in fact. Who gave me the horse todrive about? But surely if a disordered brain like mine contrives to getright again----"
"Christie, I wish to do you good. You have brought me into a frightfulmess, because you are so headlong. But you meant it for the best, Iknow; and I must not be too hard upon you."
"What else have you been for the last five minutes? Oh, Jemmy, Jemmy, Iam so sorry! Give me a kiss, and I will forgive you."
"You are a very quick, warmhearted girl; and such have never too muchreason."
The Doctor kissed his sister, in a most magnanimous manner; and shebelieved implicitly (until the next time of argument) that she had donethe injury, and her brother sweetly borne it.
"Now come, while it is hot," said he; "get your courage up, and come.Never let a wound grow cold. Between you two there must be no ill-will;and she is so noble."
"Oh, indeed! Who is it then? It is so good, and so elevating to bebrought into contact with those wonderfully lofty people."
"It is exactly what you want. If you can only obtain her friendship, itwill be the making of your character."
"For goodness' sake, don't lose a moment. I feel myself already growingbetter, nobler, loftier."
"There is nothing in you grave, and stable, none of the strongerelements;" said the Doctor, as he led the way along an empty passage.
"Don't you be too sure of that;" his sister answered, in a tone which heremembered afterwards.
Lady Waldron lay on a broad and solid sofa, well-prepared for her; andthere was no sign left of life or movement in her helpless figure. Shewas not at all like "recumbent marble"--which is the ghost of deathitself--neither was she stiff or straight; but simply still, and in sucha condition, that however any part of her frame might be placed, so itwould remain; submissive only to the laws of gravitation, and to noexercise of will, if will were yet surviving. The face was as pale asdeath, the eyes half open but without expression; the breathing scarcelyperceptible, and the pulse like the flutter of eider down, or gossamerin a sheltered spot.
There was nothing ghastly, repulsive, or even greatly distressing atfirst sight; for the fine, and almost perfect, face had recovered inplacid abandonment the beauty impaired by grief and passion. And yet thedim uncertainty, the hovering between life and death, the touchingfrailty of human power over-tried and vanquished, might move thebitterest foe to tears, and waken the compassion planted in all humanhearts by heaven.
Christie was no bitter foe, but a kind impulsive generous maiden,rushing at all hazards to defend the right, ready to bite the dust whenin the wrong, if properly convinced of it. Jemmy stepped back, andspread forth his hand more dramatically than was needed, as much as tosay--"See what you have done! Never forget this, while you live. I leaveyou to self-abasement."
The sensitive and impetuous girl required no such admonishment. She fellon her knees, and took one cold hand, while her face turned as pale asthe one she watched. The pity of the sight became more vivid, deep, andoverpowering; and she whispered her little bedside prayer, for that wasthe only one she recalled. Then she followed it up with confession.
"I know what ought to be done to me. I ought to be taken by theneck--no, that's not right--I ought to be taken to the place ofexecution, and there hanged by the neck, till I am dead, dead, dead."
All this she may have deserved, but what she got was very different.
Around her bended neck was flung no hangman's noose, but a gentle arm,the softest and loveliest ever felt, while dark eyes glistened into herown, and seeming to be encouraged there, came closer through aclustering bower; and in less time than it takes to tell, two fair youngfaces touched each other, and two quick but heavy hearts were throbbingvery close together.
"It is more my fault than yours," said Nicie, leading the way to anotherroom, when a few soft words of comfort and good-will had passed; "I amthe one who has done all this; and Dr. Gronow says so--or at least hewould, if he said what he thinks. It was the low condition caused bylong and lonely thinking, and the want of sufficient food and air, andthe sense of having no one, not even me."
"But that was her fault. She discouraged you; she showed no affectionfor you; she was even very angry with you; because you dared to thinkdifferently, because you had noble faith and trust."
"For that I deserve no credit, because I could not help it. But I mighthave been kinder to her, Christie; I might have shown less pride andtemper. I might have said to myself more often--'she is sadly shattered;and she is my mother.' It will teach me how to behave another time. Forif she does not get well, and forgive me, I shall never forgive myself.I must have forgotten how much easier it is, to be too hard, than to betoo soft."
"Probably you never thought about it;" said Christie, who knew a greatdeal about what were then called "the mental processes"--now gone intomuch bigger names, but the same nut in a harder shell. "You actedaccording to your sense of right; and that meant what you felt wasright; and that came round to mean--Jemmy."
Nicie, who never examined her mind--perhaps the best thing to be donewith it--was not quite satisfied with this abruptly concrete view of theissue. "Perhaps, I did," she said and sighed; because everything felt socloudy.
"Whatever you did--you are a darling;" said the more experienced one."There is a lot of trouble before us both. Never mind, if we only sticktogether. Poor Jemmy believes that he is a wonder. Between us, we willfetch him down."
Nicie could perceive no call for that, being as yet of less practicalturn. She was of that admirable, and too rare, and yearly diminishing,type of women, who see and feel that Heaven meant them, not to contendwith and out
do, but to comfort, purify, and ennoble that stronger,coarser, and harder half, called men.
"I think that he wants fetching up," she said, with very gracefultimidity; "but his sister must know best, of course. Is it right to talkof such things now?"
"Decidedly not;" Miss Fox replied. "In fact it is downright wicked. Butsomehow or other, I always go astray. Whenever I am out of sorts withmyself, I take a turn at other people. But how many turns must I have atothers before I get my balance now! Did you ever see anything so sad?But how very beautiful she is! I never noticed it this afternoon,because I was in such a rage, I suppose. How long is she likely toremain like this?"
"Dr. Gronow cannot say. He has known one case which lasted for a month.But then there was no consciousness at all. He thinks that there is alittle now. But we can perceive no sign of it."
"Well, I think I did. I am almost sure I did;" Christie answeredeagerly; "when I said 'dead, dead, dead,' in that judicial manner, therecame a little gleam of light into her eyes, as if she approved of thesentence. And again when you called me your sister, there seemed to be asparkle of astonishment, as if she thought you were in too much of ahurry; and perhaps you were, my darling. Oh, what a good judge Jemmy is!No wonder he is getting so conceited."
"If there is any consciousness at all," said Nicie, avoiding that othersubject, "this trance (if that is the English word for it) will not lastlong--at least Dr. Gronow says so; and Doctor Jemmy--what a name for agentleman of science!--thoroughly confirms it. But Dr. Fox is sodiffident and modest, that he seems to wait for his friend's opinion;though he must know more, being younger."
"Certainly he ought," Miss Fox replied, with a twinkle of dubiousimport; "I hear a great deal of such things. No medical man is ever athis prime, unless it is at thirty-nine years and a half. Under forty, hecan have no experience, according to the general public; and over fortyhe is on the shelf, according to his own Profession. For that one year,they ought to treble all their fees."
"That would only be fair; for they always charge too little."
"You are an innocent duck;" said Christie. "There is a spot on yourcheek that I must kiss; because it always comes, when you hear the nameof Jemmy. Abstract affection for unknown science. Oh do have a try atDr. Gronow. He knows fifty times as much as poor Jemmy."
"But he doesn't know how to please me," replied Nicie; "and I supposethat ought to count for something; after all. I must go and tell himwhat you thought you saw. That is his step in the passage now; and heordered us to watch for any symptoms of that sort. Oh what will he thinkof me, for leaving Nurse alone? Good night, dear Christie; I shall comeaway no more. But Binstock, our great man, is come back. He will attendto you, and see that you don't go home starving, or by yourself."
"Positive statements suit young men," Dr. Gronow declared, as hebuttoned up his coat, about an hour afterwards; "and so does sitting upall night. Fox, you had better act up to that. But I shall just see yoursister safe, as far as the hospitable White Post, and then I shall gohome to my supper. There is not the slightest danger now, but constantattention is needful, in case of sudden revival. That I do not at allexpect; but you know what to do, if it happens. The third day will bethe most likely time; and then any pleasing excitement, orattraction--but I shall be here, and see to that."
"Oh Dr. Gronow," exclaimed Miss Fox, as she fastened her cloak to gowith him; "how I wish I had been born a little sooner, to see you morepositive than you are now!"
"Miss Fox, it is a happy thing for me, that I anticipated all suchviews. Young ladies, I meant of course--and not young men. Yet alas, theyoung ladies are too negative."
On the third day from Lady Waldron's seizure, the postman of the name ofWalker finding not even a mushroom left to retard the mail-delivery, andhaving a cold north wind at his back, brought to the house, soon afternoon, a very large letter, marked "Ship Despatch. Two shillings andtenpence to pay," and addressed to Lady Waldron.
"It must be from dear Tom," pronounced Nicie; "we have not heard fromhim since he sailed for India. There is no other person in the world,capable of such a frightful scrawl."
"Why, this is the very thing we want," said Gronow, who was presentaccording to promise; "large, conspicuous, self-assertive. Let somebodyfetch me a green flower-stick."
Slitting one end of the stick, he inserted the lower edge of the letter,and fixed it upright in the scroll-work at the bottom of the couch. Thenhe drew the curtain back, and a slant of cheerful sunshine broke uponthe thick bold writing. But the figure on the couch lay still, without asign of interest, cold, rigid, and insensible.
"I'll keep out of sight," the Doctor whispered, "and let no one say aword. But presently when I hold my hand up, let Miss Nicie strike a fewnotes, not too rapidly, on her guitar--some well-known Spanish melody."
Gliding round the back of the couch, with a very gentle touch he raisedthe unconscious lady's head, and propped it with a large firm pillow; sothat the dim half-open eyes were level with and set point-blank upon theshining letter. Securing it so, he withdrew a little, and held up hishand to Nicie.
She, upon a low chair further off, touched the strings of her mother'sown and in younger days much loved guitar; gently at first, like adistant ripple; then with a strong bold swell arising into a grandmelodious strain--the March of Andalusia. All present held their breathto watch, and saw a strange and moving sight.
The Spanish lady's eyes began to fill with soft and quivering light,like a lake when the moon is rising; the fringe of their dark lashesrose; a little smile played on her lips, and touched them with a livingtint; then all the brilliance of her gaze flashed forth, and fastened onthat letter. She lifted both her trembling hands, and the letter was putinto them. Her face was lit with vivid joy, and her lips pronounced--"Myson, my son!" Then wanting nothing more, she drew the precious token toher breast, concealed it there, and sank into profound, and tranquil,and sweet sleep.
"She will be all right, when she awakes, and then she will want a lot offood;" said Dr. Gronow with a quiet grin, while Nicie and Chris wepttears of joy, and Dr. Fox and the Nurse looked queer. "Mind she can'tlive on her son's letter. Beef-tea, arrowroot, and port-wine, leg ofmutton gravy, and neat's foot jelly--finer than the sweetestsweetheart's letters, let alone a boy who writes with the stump of acigar. Ladies and gentlemen, my job is over; what a blessing Penniloe isgone to London! We should have had a prayer meeting every day. Miss Fox,I think I shall call you 'Christie,' because you are so unchristian."
"You may call me anything you like--that is so long as it is somethingyou do like. I shall almost begin to have faith in doctors now, in spiteof poor Jemmy being one."
"Jemmy, you had better throw up the trade. Your sister understands itbest. The hardest work, and the hardest paid--however I go atrout-fishing, ere ever the river freezes."
The wind was very cold, and everybody there shivered at the shudders hewould have to undergo, as they saw him set forth with an eager step. Hewaved his hand back from a turn of the walk which reminded him of theriver, and his shoulders went up, as if he had a trout on hook.
"He is happy. Let him be," said the percipient Christie; "he won't catchanything in fact; but the miraculous draught in fancy."
"He ought to be pitched in," replied her brother, who was put out aboutsomething, possibly the fingering of the second fiddle; "the least thatcan be done to him is to pitch him in, for trying to catch trout inDecember. Pike had vowed to do it; but those fellows are gone home,Hopper and all, just when the world was most in want of them. Christie,you will just come back with me, to the Old Barn."
"Why does Dr. Gronow address nearly all his very excellent remarks tome? And why does he always look at me, when he speaks?"
"Because you are so pretty, dear. And because you catch his meaningfirst. They like that sort of thing;" said Nicie.
"For looks I am nowhere, with Nicie present. But he sees advancedintelligence in me. And he comes from where they appreciate it. I shallgo back to Old Barn, just when I think right."
"We are coming to something!" cried Doctor Jemmy, who looked pleasantly,but loftily, at all the female race--save Nicie, who was saved perhaps,till two months after marriage--"stay, if you like, where you areappreciated, so highly, so very highly."
Christie's face became red as a rose, for really this was too bad on hispart, and after all she had done for him, as witnessed those present.
"They like me," she said in an off-handed manner; "and I likethem--which is more than one can do to everybody. But it makes verylittle difference, I am afraid, for I shall never see them any more,unless they come to Foxden. I had made up my mind to go home, the momentLady Waldron was out of danger. I did not come here to please myself;and this is all I get for it. Good-bye to fair Perlycross to-morrow!One must not neglect one's dear father and mother, even for--even forsuch a dear as Nicie."
"Well, I never knew what it was to be out of temper." There was sometruth in this assertion, though it seems a large one; for Jemmy Fox hada remarkably sweet temper; and a man who takes stock of himself, whenshort of that article, has already almost replaced it. "But how will yougo, my dear little Cayenne pepper? Will you pack up all your grandeur,and have a coach and four?"
"Yes that I will," answered Christie quick as light, "though it won'tcost me quite as much as the one I hired, when I came post-haste to yourrescue. The name of my coach is the _Defiance_; and the Guard shall play'Roast-beef' all the way, in honour of the coming Christmas-time. Won'twe have a fine time at Foxden, if father is in good health again?"
Jemmy wisely left her to her own devices--for she generally "took thechange out of him"--and consoled himself with soft contemplation of alovelier, nicer, and (so far as he knew yet) ten thousand timessweeter-tempered girl, whose name was Nicie Waldron.
Now that sweet creature had a worry of her own, though she did notafflict the public with it. She was dying with anxiety, all the time, toknow the contents of her brother Tom's letter, which had so enlivenedher dear mother.
It is said that the only thing the all-wise Solomon could not explain tothe Queen of Sheba, was the process of her own mind, or rather perhapsthe leaps of it, which landed her in conclusions quite correct, yetunsupported even by the shadow of an enthymem. Miss Waldron was not soclever as the Queen of Sheba, or even as Miss Christie Fox; yet she hadarrived at a firm conviction that the one, who was destined to solve thesad and torturing question about her dear father, was no other than herbrother, Tom Rodrigo. She had observed that his letter bore no token ofthe family bereavement, neither was that to be expected yet, althoughsix weeks had now elapsed since the date of their sore distress.
Envelopes was not as yet in common use, and a letter was a cumbrous andclumsy-looking thing, one of the many reasons being that a writer wasbound by economy, and very often by courtesy as well, to fill threegreat pages, before he began to double in. This naturally led to a vastsprawl of words, for the most part containing very little; and "whatshall I say next?" was the constant enquiry of even the most lovingcorrespondent. Nicie knew well, that her brother was not gifted with thepen of a ready writer, and that all his heart indited of was--"whatshall I put, to get done with it?" This increased the value of hisletters (by means of their rarity) and also their interest, according tothe canon that plenty of range should be allowed for the reader'simagination.
But now even too much range was left, for that of the affectionate andpoetic maiden, inasmuch as her mother lay asleep for hours with thisfine communication to support her heart. There was nothing for Nicie todo, except to go to sleep patiently on her own account, and that she didin her own white bed, and saw a fair vision through tears of joy.
Behold, she was standing at the door, the sacred portal of Walderscourt,gazing at trees that were full of singing birds, with her milk-whitepony cropping clover honey-sweet, and _Pixie_ teetotuming after his owntail. All the air was blossoming with dance of butterflies, and all theearth was laughing at the flatteries of the sun. And behold a very tallform arose, from beyond the weeping willow, leading a form yet taller,and looking back for fear of losing it. Then a loud voice shouted, andit was brother Tom's--"Here he is at last! No mistake about it. I havefound the Governor--hurrah, hurrah!" The maiden sprang up with abounding heart, to embrace her darling father. But alas, there wasnothing, except the cold moon, and a pure virgin bosom that glistenedwith tears.
When Tom's letter came to the reading at last, there was plenty of blotsin it, and brown sand, but not a blessed bit of poetry. The youth hadbeen at Eton, and exhausted there all the tendency of his mind towardsmetre. Even now people, who ought to know better, ask why poetry willnot go down with the tall, and imaginative, and romantic public. It mustbe from the absence of the spark divine among them. Nay rather becauseere they could spell, their flint was fixed for life, with the "fire"used up by Classic hammer.
Of these things the present Sir Thomas Rodrigo Waldron had neitherthought nor heed. For him it was enough to be released; and the less hesaw of book and pen, for the rest of his natural life, the better forthe book, the pen, and him. So that on the whole he deserved muchcredit, and obtained even more (from his mother) as the author of thefollowing fine piece of correspondence. Though all the best bits wereadapted from a book, entitled "The young man's polite letter-writer, tohis parents, sisters, sweethearts, friends, and the Minister of hisnative parish, etc., etc.--also when applying for increase of wages."
"Valetta, in the Island of Malta, Mediterranean Sea, etc. Novemberthe 5th, also Guy Fawkes' Day, A.D. 1835.
"MY BELOVED AND RESPECTED MOTHER,--I take up my pen with mingledfeelings of affection and regret. The bangs"--oh, he ought to say"pangs," thought Nicie, as her mother read it on most gravely--"which Ihave suffered, and am suffering still, arise from various sources.Affection, because of your unceasing and unmerited parental goodness;regret because absence in a foreign land enhances by a hundred fold thevalue of all those lost endearments. I hope that you will think of me,whenever you sit on the old bench by the door, and behold the sunsetting in the east."
"It is very beautiful," said Lady Waldron, animated by a cup of strongbeef-tea; "but Rodrigo was so hard to kiss. Very often, I have knockedmy head--but he is competent to feel it in his own head now."
"Mother, there is no bench by the door. And how can the sun set in theeast? Oh I see it was 'west,' and he has scratched it out, because ofhis being in the east himself."
"That means the same thing;" replied Lady Waldron; "Inez, if you intendto find fault with your dear brother's letter about such trifles, youdeserve to hear no more of it."
"Mother, as if it made any difference where the sun sets; so long as hecan see it!"
"He always had large thoughts," reflected his mother; "he is not of thiscold geography. Hearken how beautifully he proceeds to write--
"'But it is vain to indulge these contemplations. Thanks to yourcareful tuition, and the lofty example set before me, I trust that Ishall never be found wanting in my duty to the Country that gave mebirth. Unfortunately in these foreign parts, the price of every articleis excessive; and although I am guided, as you are well aware, by thestrictest principles of economy, my remembrance of what is due to you,and the position of a highly respected family, have in some degreenecessitated an anticipation of resources. Feeling assured of yoursympathy, and that it will assume a practical form by return of post, Iventure to state for your guidance that the house of Plumper, Wiggins,and Golightly in this City have been advised, and have consented toreceive on my behalf a remittance of L120, which will, I trust, appear avery reasonable sum.'"
"Mother, dear mother, let me go on," cried Nicie, as the letter droppedfrom her mother's hand; "the pleasure and excitement have been too muchfor you, although the style is so excellent."
"It is not the style; but my breath has been surprised, by--by theexpressions of that last sentence. The sum that I myself placed to hiscredit, out of my bonds of the City of Corduba, was in addition, andwithout his father's knowledge--but no doubt he will give explanationmore furthe
r down; though the writing appears now to become of adifferent kind, shorter and less polished. But why is he in Malta, whenthe ship sailed for Bombay? Oh I am terrified there will be some war.The English can never stay without fighting very long. And behold hisletter seems to go into three pieces! See now, it is quite crooked,Inez, and of less correction. Nevertheless I approve more of it so.Listen again, child.
"'I was almost forgeting to say that we were mett before we had got veryfar on our way by a Despatch Vessle bringing urgent orders for all ofthe Draught to be sent to this place, which is not half so hot as theother place would be, and much more convenient, and healthy but toowhite. But it does make the money fly, and they are a jolley sett. Ihave long been wanting to write home, but waited untill there was somenews to tell, and we could tell where we are going next. But we shallhave to stay here for some time, because most of our things were sentto West Indies, and the other part went on to East India. It will all befor the best because so strong a change of climate will be almostcertain to destroy the moths. I have bought three dogs. There is a newsort here, very clever, and can almost speak. I hope all the dogs athome are well. I miss the shooting very much, and there are no horses inthe Mediterranean big enough to cary me. Now I must conclude with bestlove and duty to the Governor and you, and Nicie, and old nurseSweetland, and anybody else who inquires for
"'remaining your affectionate and dutiful Son,
"'TOM R. WALDRON.
"'P.S.--Your kind letter of Aug. 30th just come. They must be veryclever to have found us here. I am dredfully cutt up to hear dearGovernor not at all well when you wrote. Shall hope for better newsevery day. There is a Greek gentleman here with a pill waranted to cureeverything yet discovered. They are as large as yellow sluggs, and justthe same shape. He will let me have 10 for my amathist studds which areno good to me. Shall try to send them by the next ship that goes home.Do write at once, because I never heard before of anything wrong withdear Governor.
"'T. R. W.'"
"Poor darling!" said his mother with tears in her eyes, while Nicie wassobbing quietly; "by this time he may be aware of it perhaps, though notof the dreadful thing that happened since. It will not be for hishappiness that he should ever know. Remember that, Inez. He is of somuch vigour and high blood of the best Andalusian, that he would becomeinsane, and perhaps do himself deep injury. He would cast away hisoffice--what you call the Commission,--and come back to this country,and be put in prison for not accepting quietly the sacrilegious laws."
"Mother, you have promised never to speak of that subject. If it is toomuch for poor Tom, what is it likely to be for us? All we can do is toleave it to God."
"There is not the same God in this Country as we have. If there was, Hewould never endure it."