CHAPTER II
OUT OF THE DARKNESS
"You said Everard was coming. Why doesn't he come? It's very dark--it'svery dark! Can he have missed the way?"
Feebly, haltingly, the words seemed to wander through the room, breakinga great silence as it were with immense effort. Mrs. Ralston bent overthe bed and whispered hushingly that it was all right, all right,Everard would be there soon.
"But why does he take so long?" murmured Stella. "It's getting darkerevery minute. And it's so steep. I keep slipping--slipping. I know hewould hold me up." And then after a moment, "Oh, Mary, am I dying? Ibelieve I am. But--he--wouldn't let me die."
Mrs. Ralston's hand closed comfortingly upon hers. "You're quite safe,dearest," she said. "Don't be afraid!"
"But it's so dreadfully dark," Stella said restlessly. "I shouldn't mindif I could see the way. But I can't--I can't."
"Be patient, darling!" said Mrs. Ralston very tenderly. "It will belighter presently."
It was growing very late. She herself was listening for every sound,hoping against hope to hear the firm quiet step of the man who alonecould still her charge's growing distress.
"It would be so dreadful to miss him," moaned Stella. "I have waited solong. Mary, why don't they light a lamp?"
A shaded lamp was burning on the table by the bed. Mrs. Ralston turnedand lifted the shade. But Stella shook her head with a weary discontent.
"That doesn't help. It's in the desert that I mean--so that he shan'tmiss me when he comes."
"He cannot miss you, darling," Mrs. Ralston assured her; but in her ownheart she doubted. For the doctor had told her that he did not think shewould live through the night.
Again she strained her ears to listen. She had certainly heard a soundoutside the door; but it might be only Peter who, she knew, crouchedthere, alert for any service.
It was Peter; but it was not Peter only, for even as she listened, thehandle of the door turned softly and someone entered. She looked upeagerly and saw the doctor.
He was a thin, grey man for whom she entertained privately a certainfeeling of contempt. She was so sure her own husband would have somehowmanaged the case better. He came to the bedside, and looked at Stella,looked closely; then turned to her friend watching beside her.
"I wonder if it would disturb her to see her husband for a moment," hesaid.
Mrs. Ralston suppressed a start with difficulty. "Is he here?" shewhispered.
"Just arrived," he murmured back, and turned again to look at Stella wholay motionless with closed eyes, scarcely seeming to breathe.
Mrs. Ralston's whisper smote the silence, and it was the doctor's turnto start. "Send him in at once!" she said.
So insistent was her command that he stood up as if he had been proddedinto action. Mrs. Ralston was on her feet. She waved an urgent hand.
"Go and get him!" she ordered almost fiercely. "It's the only chanceleft. Go and fetch him!"
He looked at her doubtfully for a second, then, impelled by an authoritythat overrode every scruple, he turned in silence and tiptoed from theroom.
Mrs. Ralston's eyes followed him with scorn. How was it some doctorsmanaged--notwithstanding all their experience--to be such hopelessidiots?
The soft opening of the door again a few seconds later banished herirritation. She turned with shining welcome in her look, and met Monckwith outstretched hands.
"You're in time," she said.
He gripped her hands hard, but he scarcely looked at her. In a moment hewas bending over the bed.
"Stella girl! Stella!" he said.
"Everard!" The weak voice thrilled like a loosened harp-string, and theman's dark face flashed into sudden passionate tenderness.
He went down upon his knees beside the bed and gathered her to hisbreast. She clung to him feebly, her lips turned to his.
"My darling--oh, my darling--have you come at last?" she whispered."Hold me--hold me!--Don't let me die!"
He held her closer and closer to his heart, so that its fierce throbbingbeat against her own. "You shan't die," he said, "you can't die--with mehere."
She laughed a little, sobbingly. "You saved Tommy--twice over. I knewyou would save me--if you came in time. Oh, darling, how I have wantedyou! It's been--so dark and terrible."
"But you held on!" Monck's voice was very low; it came with a manifesteffort. He was holding her to his breast as if he could never let hergo.
"Yes, I held on. I knew--I knew--how--how it would hurt you--to find megone." Her trembling hands moved fondly about his head and finallyclasped his neck. "It's all right now," she said, with a sigh of deepcontent.
Monck's lips pressed hers again and again, and Mrs. Ralston went away tothe window to hide her tears. "Please, God, don't separate them now!"she whispered.
It was many minutes later that Stella spoke again, softly, into Monck'sear. "Everard--darling husband--the baby--our baby--don't you--wouldn'tyou like to see it?"
"The baby!" He spoke as if startled. Somehow he had concluded from thefirst that the baby would be dead, and the rapture of finding her stillliving had driven the thought of everything else from his mind.
"Don't move!" whispered Stella, clasping him closer. "Ask them to bringit!"
He spoke over his shoulder to Mrs. Ralston, his voice oddly cold, almostreluctant. "Would you be good enough to bring the baby in?"
She turned at once, smiling upon him shakily. But his dark face remainedwholly inscrutable, wholly unresponsive. There was something about himthat smote her with a curious chill, but she told herself that he wasworn out with hard travel and anxiety as she went from the room tocomply with his curt request.
Lying against his shoulder, Stella whispered a few halting sentences."It--happened so suddenly. The Rajah drives so fiercely--like a manpossessed. And the car skidded on the hill. Netta Ermsted was in it, andshe screamed, and I--I was terrified because Tessa--Tessa--bravemite--sprang in front of me. I don't know what she thought she could do.I think partly she was angry, and lost her head. And she meant--tohelp--to protect me--somehow. After that, I fainted--and when I cameround, they had brought me back here. That was ever so long ago." Sheshuddered convulsively. "I've been through a lot since then."
Monck's teeth closed upon his lip. He had not suspected an accident.
Tremulously Stella went on. "It--was so much too soon. Iwas--dreadfully--afraid for the poor wee baby. But the doctor said--thedoctor said--it was all right--only small. And oh, Everard--" her voicethrilled again with a quivering joy--"it is a boy. I so wanted--ason--for you."
"God bless you!" he said almost inarticulately, and kissed her whiteface again burningly, even with violence. She smiled at his intensity,though it made her gasp. "I know--I know--you will be great," she said."And--your son--must carry on your greatness. He shall learn tolove--the Empire--as you do. We will teach him together--you and I."
"Ah!" Monck said, and drew the hard breath of a man struggling in deepwaters.
Mrs. Ralston returned softly with a white bundle in her arms, andStella's hold relaxed. Her heavy lids brightened eagerly.
"My dear," Mrs. Ralston said, "the doctor has commanded me to turn yourhusband out immediately. He must just peep at the darling baby and go."
"Tell him to go himself--to blazes!" said Monck forcibly, and thenreached up, still curiously grim to Mrs. Ralston's observing eyes, and,without rising from his knees, took his child into his arms.
He laid it against the mother's breast, and tenderly uncovered the tiny,sleeping face.
"Oh, Everard!" she said.
And Mrs. Ralston turned away with a little sob. She did not believe anylonger that Stella would die. The sweet, thrilling happiness of hervoice seemed somehow to drive out the very thought of death. She hadnever in her life seen any one so supremely happy. But yet--though shewas reassured--there was something else in the atmosphere that disturbedher. She could not have said wherefore, but she was sorry forMonck--deeply, poignantly sorry. She was certain, with that innerconvicti
on that needs no outer evidence, that it was more than wearinessand the strain of anxiety that had drawn those deep lines about his eyesand mouth. He looked to her like a man who had been smitten down in thepride of his strength, and who knew his case to be hopeless.
As for Monck, he went through his ordeal unflinching, suffering as fewmen are called upon to suffer and hiding it away without a quiver. Allthrough the hours of his journeying, he had been prepared to face--hehad actually expected--- the worst. All through those hours he hadbattled to reach her indeed, straining every faculty, resisting withalmost superhuman strength every obstacle that arose to bar hisprogress. But he had not thought to find her, and throughout thelong-drawn-out effort he had carried in his locked heart the knowledgethat if when he came at last to her bedside he found her--this womanwhom he loved with all the force of his silent soul--white and cold indeath, it would be the best fate that he could wish her, the best thingthat could possibly happen, so far as mortal sight could judge, foreither.
But so it had not been. At the very Gate of Death she had waited for hiscoming, and now he knew in his heart that she would return. The lovebetween them was drawing her, and the man's heart in him battledfiercely to rejoice even while wrung with the anguish of that secretknowledge.
He hardly knew how he went through those moments which to her were suchpure ecstasy. The blood was beating wildly in his brain, and he thoughtof that devils' tattoo on the roof at Udalkhand when first that dreadfulknowledge had sprung upon him like an evil thing out of the night. Buthe held himself in an iron grip; he forced his mind to clearness. Evento himself he would not seem to be aware of the agony that tore him.
They whispered together for a while over the baby's head, but he neverremembered afterwards what passed or how long he knelt there. Only atlast there came a silence that drifted on and on and he knew thatStella was asleep.
Later Mrs. Ralston stooped over him and took the baby away, and he laidhis head down upon the pillow by Stella's and wished with all his soulthat the Gate before which her feet had halted would open to them both.
Someone came up behind them, and stood for a few seconds looking downupon them. He was aware of a presence, but he knelt on withoutstirring--as one kneeling entranced in a sacred place. Then two hands heknew grasped him firmly by the shoulders, raising him; he looked uphalf-dazed into his brother's face.
"Come along, old chap!" Bernard whispered. "You mustn't faint in here."
The words roused him. The old sardonic smile showed for a moment abouthis lips. He faint! But he had not slept for two nights. That wouldaccount for that curious top-heavy feeling that possessed him. Hesuffered Bernard to help him up,--good old Bernard who had watched overhim like a mother refusing flatly to remain behind, waiting upon himhand and foot at every turn.
"You come into the next room!" he whispered. "You shall be calledimmediately if she wakes and wants you. But you'll crumple up if youdon't rest."
There was truth in the words. Everard realized it as he went from theroom, leaning blindly upon the stout, supporting arm. His wearinesshung upon him like an overwhelming weight.
He submitted himself almost mechanically to his brother's ordering,feeling as if he moved in a dream. As in a dream also he saw Peter atthe door move, noiseless as a shadow, to assist him on the other side.And he tried to laugh off his weakness, but the laugh stuck in histhroat.
Then he found himself in a chair drinking a stiff mixture of brandy andwater, again at Bernard's behest, while Bernard stood over him, watchingwith the utmost kindness in his blue eyes.
The spirit steadied him. He came to himself, sat up slowly, and motionedPeter from the room. He was his own master again. He turned to hisbrother with a smile.
"You're a friend in need, St. Bernard. That dose has done me good. Openthe window, old fellow, will you? Let's have some air!"
Bernard flung the window wide, and the warm wet air blew in laden withthe fragrance of the teeming earth. Everard turned his face to it,drawing in great breaths. The dawn was breaking.
"She is better?" Bernard questioned, after a few moments.
"Yes. I believe she has turned the corner." Everard spoke withoutturning. His eyes were fixed.
"Thank God!" said Bernard gently.
Everard's right hand made a curious movement. It was as if it closedupon a weapon. "You can do that part," he said, and he spoke withconstraint. "But you'd do it in any case. It's a way you've got. See thelight breaking over there? It's like a sword--turning all ways." He rosewith an obvious effort and passed his hand across his eyes. "What ofyou, man?" he said. "Have they been looking after you?"
"Oh, never mind me!" Bernard rejoined. "Have something to eat and turnin! Yes, of course I'll join you with pleasure." He clapped anaffectionate hand upon his brother's shoulder. "It's a boy, I'm told.Old fellow, I congratulate you--may he be a blessing to you all yourlives! I'll drink his health if it isn't too early."
Everard broke into a brief, discordant laugh. "You'd better go tochurch, St. Bernard," he said, "and pray for us!"
He swung away abruptly with the words and crossed the room. Thecrystal-clear rays of the new day smote full upon him as he moved, andBernard saw for the first time that his hair was streaked with grey.