CHAPTER XLII.
A HALCYON DAY.
'They had been much together; and one for ever bears A name upon the loyal heart, and in the daily prayers; The other but remembers, when the pleasant hours are past, That something has been sending them so sweetly and so fast.' _S.M._
On Whit-Monday forenoon 'Mr. Underwood' was announced in thedrawing-room at Stoneborough, and Gertrude May's face, which hadat first clouded at the pre-prandial intrusion of any visitor,brightened at the name, but lost a little eagerness when the enteringvisitor proved himself to be only Lancelot, shaven now all but hismoustache, and with an air of entirely recovered health, justifying hisdeclaration that he had no desire to see the Doctor professionally,and had been quite well ever since his return to Bexley at Easter.He was now on his way to keep his holiday at home, but had made adeviation 'to show that I have tried to obey you,' he said, profferingto Gertrude a roll of music, the stiff paper cover beautifully anddelicately adorned with a daisy border, with pen-and-ink etchings inthe corners illustrating the receipt of telegrams for weal or woe, andthe first bars were made to resemble the wires and posts, the notes,the birds perched thereon, the whole being of course William Harewood'spoem set to music. So beautiful and elaborate was the finish, thatGertrude was startled and confused; the meaning flashed on her, and thesudden recoil roused the contradictoriness of her nature. The earnestlook abashed and frightened her, and with a sort of anger she coldlysaid, 'Very pretty, very nicely got up.'
'I think it may suit your voice,' said Lance wistfully.
'Thank you' (more nervously, and therefore more coldly), 'we will ordersome copies.'
Lance, after a moment's pleading gaze, dropped his eyes, coloured, andstammered, 'Not that.'
Ethel came to the rescue with praise of the etching, but this availedlittle; Gertrude spoke not a word, and Lance, though making some kindof reply, clearly did not know what he was saying, and presently tookleave, in spite of Ethel's entreaties that he would stay to the earlydinner, and to see her father. He made answer in a bewildered voiceabout not meaning--and getting home; shook hands, and was gone.
'That was not gracious, Daisy,' said Ethel.
'I'm sure I didn't want it,' said the spoilt child.
'You need not have hurt him.'
No answer but scarlet colouring.
About half-past three he was at the Priory, just as the whole partyand Charles Audley besides were standing on the lawn, with rugs andcloaks betokening boating intentions. His first impulse was to shrinkaway like some wounded animal, but he had been spied, and was eagerlyhailed--'O Lance! just in time! Here's the four-oar coming out! Clemand Angel want to go up the river to Tranquillity Bridge, and we aretaking them.'
Lance would have done anything rather than betray his wound, so he tookhis place in the boat, and tried to shake himself into the present;but Felix thought he looked tired, and would not let him take an oaragainst the stream. Then it occurred to Cherry to ask whether he hadhad anything to eat. No, he believed not; but he was resolute that hewanted nothing, not even a draught of cider, which Angela mischievouslyrecommended as they passed the 'Hook and Line,' a little tea-gardenpublic-house, a favourite Sunday resort of Ewmouth idlers, and a greatscandal and grievance to the Vicar, but secured, like other abuses, bya lease. A boat, belonging no doubt to some holiday-makers, was mooredat the steps; but as it was the day of a great Maying at East Ewmouth,most observers of 'tide time' were likely to be there absorbed.
Angela amused herself with wild proposals to Charlie Audley to repairthither in disguise together, talking nonsense that greatly annoyedClement, and was far from pleasing Felix or Cherry; but she was in soreckless and defiant a mood, that they could only hope that she mightwork it off at the oar. Her arms were strong as well as long, androwing was a pastime she loved, having been franked as an A B S eversince she had taken lessons at a swimming-bath. The day was delicious,with clouds chasing one another so as to make fleeting lights andshadows on Penbeacon and the hills beyond; the clear brown watersparkling in ripples or lying in deep pools, shadowed by the woods thatcame down to the bank in the early green of spring, flowering may,mountain ash, and wreaths of blushing eglantine overhanging the margin,or where the space was open, revealing meadows all one golden sheet ofbuttercups, while the fringe of the stream was the feathery bogbean andthe golden broom, mixed with tall sword leaves of the flag and the reed.
Shaded at length by a picturesque high-backed one-arched bridge, theboat waited while Clement and Angela went on their cottage visiting.
Charlie did not, as Cherry expected, invite Lance to promenade thebank with a cigar, but applied himself to helping Stella in collectinga grand nosegay of every sort of flower and grass within reach.The others remained in the boat: Lance leaning over the gunwaledreamily watching the ripples, apparently half asleep, lulled by themonotonously sweet humming of Theodore, and the songs of the birds inthe woods; Cherry was sketching, and Felix rested musingly.
'Tranquillity Bridge,' he said. 'I always fancy it must have been namedby some pious builder imbued with the spirit of the Pilgrim's Progress.'
'An unconscious poet,' said Cherry.
'Yes. Such a tranquil rest, amid such perfect peace and loveliness,without one discordant element, is one of the choicest boons of life.'
Lance swallowed a sigh; and Cherry answered, 'The very movements andsounds are all peace, though full of life.'
For a gold-billed moorhen was swimming among its little ones at themargin of the reeds at the bend of the river, and a sapphire kingfisherdarted across the arch.
'Halcyon days,' said Felix.
'Oh no! Halcyon days precede storms.'
'Maybe they give strength for them. Times like these are surelyforetastes of perfect bliss.'
'How does that prepare for storms?'
'Not only by calming nerves and spirits, but by giving some experienceof the joy beyond--ay, and sense of love and confidence in Him who hasmade all so exquisite for our delight.'
It seemed to come from his heart, drawn forth by the grateful enjoymentof that sweet Whitsun hour.
Cherry held up her finger as a ring-dove began to coo from the thicket,making fit answer to one thus resting in the Feast of the Comforter;Theodore cooed in return, and the bird seemed to be replying. Even thetumult of pain and grief in Lance's breast was soothed by the spirit ofthe words and scene, while he felt the contrast, like an abyss, betweenhimself and the others.
But when the rest of the party came gaily back with talk and laughter,inaction had become intolerable to him. He wanted to take Angela's oar,but she would not hear of giving it up, and Felix resigned his, whileCherry owned that she preferred having him at the helm when going downthe river.
Theodore, with a shout, held out his hands for Stella's flowers,and she gave the whole into his hands, Charlie for a moment lookingdisappointed; but as the twins sat together, and the little fellow drewout the flowers singly and dropped them into his sister's lap, whileshe whispered their names, it was evidently perfect joy to both. Some,such as the bright spires of broom, he greeted with a snatch of nurserysong, though otherwise the pair were scarcely audible as long as thenosegay lasted, and that was for a long time; but when Stella had madeit up again, only leaving the broom to him, he returned to his usualhum, and this time with the tune of 'The strain upraise,' which hadbeen practised that morning for Trinity Sunday, and which met the soundof the bells ringing for Evensong.
'That's rather too much!' exclaimed Angela. 'We shall be taken for someof the pious, a singing of hymns.--Come, Tedo.'
'No, no,' said Felix, 'I'll not have him interfered with.' And hehummed the tune.
'That's always the way when Baby goes out with us,' muttered Angela,audaciously singing out at the top of her clear soprano--
'Six o'clock is striking, Mother, may I go out? My young man is waiting, To take me all about.
First he
gives me apples, Then he gives me pears; Then he gives me sixpence, To take me round the fairs;'
thus effectually silencing both the others, the one from sense ofdiscord, the other from serious displeasure. At that moment, shootingfrom behind the bend of the river where stood the Hook and Line,came the other boat. Excited probably by the song, the young men init shouted 'Come on! Who'll be first! We'll take a couple of yoursweethearts aboard, to make fair play! We'll have your nightingale!'
'Next he gives me bacon And eggs to fry in the pan, And no one there to eat them But me and my young man.'
sung they lustily, as on they came, as fast as the current, assisted bytwelve vigorous arms, could carry them.
A few strokes would have gained the garden landing-place, but thepursuers' velocity was reckless. One moment as they passed the eddy ofthe junction of the Leston, and the end of the four-oar swung roundinto the middle of the river, there was a shock, a shriek of manyvoices; and just as John and Wilmet Harewood were crossing the lawn toreturn to their own cottage, they beheld both boats upset, and fifteenpersons struggling in the midstream.
Even as the collision took place, Felix had seized Theodore, and afterboth had been drawn down for a second, rose again, making vigorousstrokes with one arm for the bank, reaching that of the churchyard,where it was built up high and steep; but with one of the violentefforts of a supreme moment, he grasped a branch of the overhangingwillow tree, swung himself up by one arm till his feet had a hold, andhe could launch himself partly over the iron rail, and deposit hisburthen on the grass, when climbing over, he reached down and draggedup Geraldine from the arm of Clement, who had closely followed him.
By that time both the other sisters were safe; Charles Audley,thoroughly at home in the water, had directed himself more skilfully,holding Stella by her shoulder, to the garden landing-place, furtheroff, but of easier access. Indeed, she had not lost the power ofhelping herself, when Wilmet's arms clasped her on the steps; and onlya few moments later, Angela, who had kept herself afloat, was likewiselanded, with very little aid from Charles.
Lance's rescue was harder. He could not swim at all, sank twice, androse the second time a little way down the stream, where John Harewoodgrappled him and brought him to the steps, helpless and at firstunconscious. Of the other boat's crew, two reached the bank alone,another had saved his fellow, a fifth clung to his oar, and was guidedashore by Clement, a sixth was drawn out insensible by young Audley;the last was still missing, and John, Charles, one of the other lads,and old Tripp, were all striving to find and rescue him. Four figureslay insensible, three more were struggling back to life--the servantsrushing down; Wilmet, supporting Lance in his gasping efforts, tookthe command. 'Angel, Stella--don't wait, back to the house. Changeinstantly.--Amelia, go with them, give them something hot, never mindwhat, and put Miss Underwood to bed.--Yes, Clement, carry her to herroom; and you--don't do anything else till you have changed--Felix,we'll take Tedo to the laundry; it is hot, and flannels can be warmedsooner.--Golightly, you and Martha take this one.--You two theother.--Follow Mr. Underwood--Yes, dear Lancey, you are better. Theyare all safe. Shall I help you up? That's right. Lean on, my dear, morethan that; don't be afraid, I'm strong enough; there, you get on verywell.'
Before they had made many steps, a shout proclaimed that the lastsufferer had been found; and while he was carried between his friendand Tripp, Wilmet hastily insisted that her husband should hurry homeand change his clothes before doing anything else, and relinquishingLance to Charlie to be helped up-stairs, hastened to the scene ofaction in the laundry, where the four lifeless figures were stretchedon the ironing tables. The other three young men were sent to bebetween blankets till their clothes could be dried; and Felix, afterhaving laid down his unconscious burthen, lingered for a moment, tillWilmet ordered him off to change his dripping clothes, when he obeyedwithout a word.
Clement, half-dressed, was finding garments for Charlie, and insistingthat bed was the place for Lance, when there was a sudden call athis door, and as he opened it Angela stood before him, exclaiming,'Come this instant!' and as he followed her flying steps, he beheldFelix on the stairs, sitting propped against the balusters, holding ahandkerchief to his mouth covered with blood. He had been standing,supporting himself against the post at the bottom, when Angela hadfirst found him, and had so far helped him up; but the effort hadevidently been agonizing, and increased the bleeding so much, that shehad tried to place him safely, and hurried for aid. He could do nothingfor himself, but Charles Audley coming to their assistance, theybrought him to his room door, where Angela, crying, 'Ice! ice is thething!' dashed away to the offices, where she heard voices.
'Miss Angela, you mus'n't come here.'
'Quick, Martha, the key of the ice-house.'
'Hice-ouse! bless you, Miss Hangela, 'tis 'ot as is wanted.'
'It is ice for the bleeding. It's a blood-vessel! It is Felix. I musthave the key.'
But Martha, always despising Angela, and now all the more with her hairstreaming below her waist, simply did not hear, and hurried away withher flannels. Angela rushed after her, but only heard, 'You can't comehere.'
As she was raising her voice for a more peremptory cry, she saw JohnHarewood returning. He understood in a moment, made entrance, obtainedthe key, and while she fetched the ice, he hurried to the scene of themost pressing and grievous need.
By the time she brought the ice, the drenched clothes had been removed,and Felix was in bed, and the remedy she had obtained did at last checkthe flow of blood, but there was not only exhaustion but evidently verysevere pain. 'Where?' He put his hand to his right side; and at thatmoment, to their infinite relief, they found among them Dr. ThomasMay, the professor, who--on his way home from a visit to his friendthe chemist--had been met in the village and brought to their aid evenbefore Page, who was out on his rounds.
The verdict of the first moment was that the haemorrhage was not fromthe lungs, and indeed the patient showed no difficulty in speakingafter the first faintness. Had he felt the hurt on throwing himselfover the rail? He thought so, but could not recollect; it onlybecame disabling when he tried to go up-stairs, and that brought thebleeding--'but Theodore! Pray go to Theodore!'
There was no withstanding his anxiety, only the Professor directedthe unsuccessful endeavour to make the posture easier, and orderedfomentations as the only present alleviation, except perfect stillness.No judgment could be formed as yet, and he therefore gratified theardent desire faintly breathed forth, while the great drops of painstood on the brow. 'Please, see Geraldine! And when Theodore comesround, bring him here! Clem, see it is so; he will be pacified in sightof me.'
Clement promised, and made it plain that it would be better for both;and then he took the young doctor first to Geraldine, who, once inbed, could not leave it without assistance, and was chained therein terrible anxiety, with Stella as her messenger; but her agony ofsuspense was her chief ailment, and after saying all he conscientiouslycould to soothe her, Dr. Tom was guided to the laundry, where hevanished.
Long, long was news watched for from thence. Even those who went inquest of hot water learnt nothing, till at last Charlie heard that oneof the young men was reviving, and presently he was carried up to thespare room.
Another quarter, another half-hour dragged by. Felix renewed hisentreaty for Theodore's presence, but messenger after messengerreturned not. First John went and came back no more, then Clement wascalled for and never returned, and Felix became so restless under theimpression that Wilmet would choose to put the child to bed unhappyin Sibby's room, that Lance could only carry down his mandate to thecontrary. Then when the next access of watching and anxiety was visiblyincreasing the suffering and danger, Angela left Stella in charge,and went herself to represent that the dire suspense must be relievedbefore it did further harm.
The ear was in a state of agonized tension, and caught a sound. 'Openthe door, Stella. Hark!'
She obeyed. There were voic
es; Wilmet's--Clement's. 'You go!'--'He willbear it best from you!' they said.
She heard no more, for Felix had started up on his elbow, and the bloodhad again rushed to his lips. She called for help. All were abouthim, there was no checking it, for seconds--for minutes. His face wasdeathly, his hands cold. Clement, holding him on his breast, whisperingprayers, felt him more prone and feeble every instant; all believedthat a life was ebbing away far more precious than the little feeblespark so easily quenched.
When a respite came, it was with a hand on the pulse, and with ananxious face, that the doctor durst signify to them that this wasrelief--not the end as yet; but as Clement laid the head back thefurrows of pain had cleared, the brow had smoothed, the breath camewithout the stifled groans, the position was less constrained, and whenAngela ventured to say, 'He looks more comfortable,' there was an airof assent and rest, the worst of the pain was evidently relieved forthe time.
Stella stole away with the tidings to poor Geraldine, whom she foundsitting up in bed, trembling so that the whole framework shook,and totally unable to move from it, without the appliances thatassisted her lameness. Before long, Wilmet was able to attend to arepresentation of her condition, and could bring her wonted remedies,and what was even better, her strong soft arms to enfold the littlefrail quivering frame, and her sweet, steady, full voice to assure herthat Felix was undoubtedly better, and not suffering near so much.
And when Cherry was quieted, and Wilmet would have returned, thelittle handmaid said, in an imploring voice, 'Where is dear Tedo?mayn't I go to him now?'
'My dear child!' exclaimed Wilmet, in pitying consternation, 'then youdon't know?'
Cherry saw what was implied! How else could the helpless darling havebeen left by all!
'It is so?' she said.
Wilmet bent her head.
Stella gave a kind of moan.
'Yes,' Wilmet said, 'It is nearly three hours since. The Professorsaid there might be hope for two. One young man is getting better atlast, Page is with him. We went on trying--John says for two hours anda quarter, and Sibby is going on still; but there is no hope now; andwhen I heard about Felix--Stella, dear child, where are you going?'
'Mayn't I help Sibby?' The voice was so plaintively imploring, the eyeslooked so mournfully earnest out of the loose damp mass of dark brownhair, that it seemed cruel to answer, 'Stella, dear dear little one,indeed you must not, you can't go there.'
Instinctive obedience recalled her; but still she pleaded, 'He must getbetter! He was such a little moment under water! I think he is afraidto open his eyes because I am not there, nor Brother. Do let me try!I'm sure he would know me.'
'Stella, sweet, indeed I would let you if I could; but you can't go tothe laundry, there are strange men about, and they are making up a bedfor young Light; he can't be moved. The hope is quite gone, my dear, itwas such a feeble little tender life.'
'And there could have been no pain or fright,' said Cherry.
But she broke off, as poor little Stella collapsed with her facebetween her hands, sitting on the floor, lost in her hair, notspeaking, only a great stifling smothering sob heaving up, as if theoppression of her first grief were crushing, nay strangling her.
Wilmet knelt down to gather her into her motherly arms, and whispercomfort, but this was not what she wanted; she somehow slid away, stoodup, and said, 'Please, may I go into my own room? I want to be bymyself.'
'To your room and your bed, my dear,' said Wilmet. 'I am going to sendyou both some tea.'
Cherry only had visits from the maids, with tea that refreshed her, butfrom which Stella in the inner room turned away. The summer twilighthad passed into night before a long black figure looked in. 'Asleep,Cherry?'
'Oh no, Clem! I knew you would come.'
'I am sorry not to have come before, but there has been so much to do.'
'And he?'
'Tom May thinks his pulse stronger, and was struck by the look of rallyabout his face when we came back after supper.'
'Who is there now?'
'Wilmet and the Professor. May will let no one sit up who has been inthe water. I care the less because with my door open it is almost likebeing in the same room.'
'But he is better?'
'Not in pain,' said Clement; 'and May thinks that there are no ribsbroken, though there is a great bruise. Much may be only violentsprain, and it may be only some unimportant vessel that has givenway; but he is too weak and tender yet for anything like examination.However, as long as the bleeding does not return, he is gaining everyhour.'
'It was that dreadful scramble up the bank!'
'That quite accounts for it; and he must have twisted himself as hethrew himself over the rail. No one could have done it in cold blood,even without dear Baby's weight.'
'And after that he pulled me up! Clem, it was you that saved me,and yet I could not thank you if--O Clem!' She laid her head on hisshoulder, struggling with horror at the bare notion of life withoutFelix.
He was very sorry for her. He had always loved her the best of hissisters, yet he felt himself so inadequate to fill to her the place oftheir eldest, or even of the lost Edgar.
'My poor Cherry!' he said, stroking her damp hair; 'but thus far Godhas been very gracious to us, and we will take hope, and trust Him.Think how much worse it might have been. So many in danger, and theonly one taken so surely gone home!'
'Ah! I can only think how happy we were so short a moment before. Hesaid halcyon weather came to bear us through storms; but oh! it makesit worse.'
'You will not think so when you see our little one's countenance,sealed with his Alleluia! The vacancy is gone, and there is a wonderfuldepth in his face, as if his Ephphatha had come to the guileless lips.Sibby and I have been dressing him in his surplice, and laying himunder the Cross in the Oratory with his broom blossoms in his hand.Sibby says he was still clutching them when Felix gave him to her. PoorSibby, she says her heart stood still then; but she would not ceasefrom trying to restore him till long after we all knew it was vain;and when I made her desist, for the sake of young Light, who must bekept quiet, I thought she would have broken her heart; but at last sheseemed to feel the soothing awe of the dear little face; and she hasgot her beads, and means to keep her vigil over him all night.'
'Does _he_ know?'
'Wilmet fancies not, and is on the watch for his asking; but I am surehe understood, when I thought he was fast going, and told him Theodorewas "safe home." I am sure it made it easier;' and as Cherry winced andshuddered, he added, 'This calmness after the suspense was over wasreally what did him most good. He is better every hour, and no one elseof ourselves at all the worse except Lance. When the alarm was over, wefound him shivering violently, and hardly able to hold up his head. Ibelieve that his danger was the greatest of all, and that he could nothave been saved but for John; the stream was carrying him down againstthe bridge.'
'O Clem! help me to be thankful! But is not one poor fellow reallytaken?'
'Yes, a fine young lad about Bernard's age. He had been under water solong, that we never had much hope; but the whole frame seemed so madefor vigour, that Page thought there might be a return, and went on withKrishnu's help for four hours--nor did Sibby leave off till after that.They were a party of clerks and shopmen from Spiers and Hart's. Thefour who are gone home are very subdued and grateful. The father of onecame out in a fly and took them all back, though I thought it rather arisk for the lad who had been so long insensible.'
'Then there is one in the red-room.'
'He had had some blow, and was too much done up to move; but Page sayshe will be all right to-morrow. I am more afraid for the one in thelaundry, and have got Kerenhappuch to sit up with him. The poor boy whois lying by our dear child was a clerk of Hart's; Audley was going tosee about sending to his people. He went off in his skiff a couple ofhours ago.'
'There's eleven o'clock! O Clem, I ought not to keep you from resting.'
'This is rest, Cherry.'
'Only leave me s
omething to rest on.'
'What shall I say to you?'
'What you like. There are matches.'
'I need not read.'
And he murmured over her Psalm, Collect, thanksgiving, and prayer,half quoted, half from his own heart, and then stood to give her hisblessing of peace, and his kiss, which left her hushed, softened,comforted, attuned to meet whatever might be coming.
Again he was at her door in early morning, with tidings of reassurance.Felix had spent a quiet night, without recurrence of bleeding, andthough too feeble almost for speech, and unable to make the leastmovement without pain, he had so far surmounted the first danger, thatProfessor May meant to go away on the return of the carriage he hadsent home at night, and, unless telegraphed for, would not come againtill Thursday, only enforcing absolute quiescence though not forbiddingspeech. Clement had seen a great improvement in looks, and Wilmet hadconsented to lie down on her husband's coming to take charge of thepatient.
'And Lance?'
'He is getting up to come to Church, though he has had a bad night, andhe looks anything but fit for it. He says he must come even if he hasto go back to his bed.'
'Surely it is too great a risk.'
'So I told him, but he declares he has caught no cold, and that it isall headache and feverishness, which fresh air will relieve. I don'tknow, but I can't withhold him.'
'Whit-Tuesday! I had forgotten. Sunday seems to have been ages ago!'
'And how are you, Cherry? Did you sleep?'
'In a sort of way; I am quite well, if only any one would come and helpme to get up! I can't bear lying here any longer. Do try to send me oneof the maids. I can't disturb that poor little dear; she is asleep atlast. Take my heart with you, Clement! After all, it is a sacrifice ofthanksgiving this morning.'
Clement was wont to gather his small daily congregation in the LadyChapel, where never since the family migration had the early Holy-dayCelebration been so scantily attended. It was in unison with the manybeyond that he made his Commemoration, his oblation, his intenseintercession, in the dewy light of the early summer morning, hisapparently low yet really powerful deep-pitched voice sounding far downthe aisles and among the pillars in the nave.
The blessing echoed beyond the enclosing screen, and presently Lancerose from his knees and moved slowly westwards. If for a space he hadfelt some of the joy of holy comfort on the renewal of the sacrifice ofself, soul and body, love and hope, before the Lord of life and death,yet he was more conscious of the oppression of the sickly odour of thedrooping greenery and faded flowers that hung trailing on column andpoppy-head, and which compelled him to leave the Church, though everystep down the nave seemed to increase the load of sorrow, anxiety, andwounded affection, beneath which head and heart had burnt and throbbedthe long night through. If he had reinforced patience and resolution,he could not yet feel the benefit.
A slight sound made him raise his eyes. Whom did he see catching ata bench for support, with white cheek and dilated eye? Whose voiceexclaimed, 'You! you safe then!' Whose hand, so strangely cold, graspedhis with convulsive eagerness, as her lips formed but did not utter theinquiry, 'Who?'
'Our poor little Theodore,' he said. 'My brother is better thismorning.'
'Theodore! I never thought of him!' she gasped. 'Two lives--one ingreat danger--the note said--Tom's man could not tell which--I couldnot bear it--I had behaved so ill to--'
And she was cut short by a violent though hushed fit of weeping, whilehe exclaimed incoherently, 'No! no! don't think--I was a fool--oh!don't cry--don't--it is all over now--and this is so good and precious!Oh! please don't cry! Come in to Cherry! Take my arm.'
'Oh!' between her sobs, in a panting whisper. 'I never meant that. ButI should have died if I had not come with the carriage to find out. Iwent in here to wait. I meant no one to know.'
'You must come in now. Cherry is well, and up.'
'I can't! I ought not! Don't let any one know.'
'Indeed you must come in! Think of the comfort to Cherry. Besides, youwill hear of them all. Come.'
The tone was most persuasive, and Gertrude felt that she must yield;indeed, she trembled so much as to need the support of his arm as hetook her along the cloister into the darkened house, up the stairs tothe Prior's room, where he was glad to find preparations for breakfast;and placing Gertrude on the sofa, he was knocking at Cherry's door,when he heard the tap of her stick as she came along the gallery from avisit to Felix.
She had only been allowed to give him ocular demonstration that shewas well and afoot, and exchange a kiss and five fond words; but thewelcoming smile of gladness had so enlightened his face, that she wascheerful enough to be able to meet Lance's eager face and gesture as hethrew his arm round her, whispering, 'She's here, Cherry. She's come inMay's carriage. That most dearest--!'
And before she had fairly recollected who was most dearest to Lance,she was borne away into the room, to see tearful eyes, and crimsonface, find them hidden against her, and be almost stifled in GertrudeMay's embrace.
The explanation was made in more detail than in the church. Tom May,on finding that he must stay, had scribbled a pencil-line to hiswife--'Terrible boat accident; two lives gone, fears for two more. Sendthe other horse for me to-morrow morning.'
The groom was only sure that it was the Squire of whom scarcely a hopewas given, and another brother drowned, which he could not say, exceptthat it was not the clergyman. Dr. May and Ethel were spending thenight at Abbotstoke; and Gertrude, after hours of tossing under remorsefor her discourtesy, and misery of suspense, found waiting unendurable,and obeyed the impulse to rise and go with the carriage.
'Indeed,' she said, looking up to Lance, 'it was very wrong. I couldnot believe anything so exquisite had been done for me.'
'As if anything--'
'But haven't I been punished!' she went on, not pausing. 'Oh! to thinkI never--never could unsay it, nor ask your pardon!'
'Pardon!' he gasped, turning as red as before he had been pale, andholding a chair for support; and before he could say another word, theimpulsive girl cried, 'And oh! it is all my selfishness, bothering himwhen he looks so dreadfully ill.'
'No, no,' broke out Lance, afraid he was frightening her away, andstill almost beside himself. 'This is perfect healing.'
'Don't talk nonsense,' broke in Cherry, half comprehending, buta good deal alarmed, and therefore assuming authority with someperemptoriness; 'the truth is, you are both famished, and must havesome breakfast this instant.' She poured out coffee, and then moved toprovide eatables. Lance's instinct was of course to help her, but hishand shook so much that he had to relinquish the bread-knife. 'Yes,'said Cherry, as she took it from him; 'no wonder! When did you eatlast?'
'I--can't tell. Somebody made me swallow something hot and abominablewhen I came in, and my head has never stopped going round ever since;but I don't care now.'
'No doubt it saved you from something worse.--You know he was longer inthe water than any of us.'
'I don't know anything,' said Gertrude. 'I thought Mr. Underwood--'
Then it had to be explained--that is, as much as Cherry and Lance knew.'Some tipsy fellows racing us--the shock--the helpless plunge;' thenCherry had felt the instant security of Clement's arm, and was drawn upthe bank.
'How beautiful it was!' said Gertrude softly, 'that care for poorlittle Theodore first, and then you!'--and softer tears came into hereyes. 'It is just like all his life.'
'Just,' they both said, gratefully.
'And how does he look?'
'Perfectly white, dear fellow--lips and all,' said Cherry; 'and hespeaks so slowly, and only just above his breath; but his eyes watchone about with all their grave brightness.'
'Grave brightness,' whispered Gertrude to herself, while a sweetsatisfied look passed over her face. 'Did he know how it was with thepoor little one before he--was ill?'
'No,' said Lance; but he could now add that when Felix had seenClement about to go to church, he had said, 'Remember me, and give
thanks--above all for dear Baby.'
Never perhaps had Gertrude shown such soft shy tenderness; and Lanceconfirmed the trust that Theodore could scarcely have felt a pang, forhe said that in his own case the drowning had been far preferable tothe coming back to life, when Wilmet had seemed a cruel tormentor.
'Who was it that brought you out?'
'Who, Cherry? I never asked!'
'Oh!' emphatically exclaimed Gertrude; then in a murmur under herbreath, 'or what would it not have been to me?'
'It was John Harewood,' said Cherry.
There was a knock. Professor May, at his principal patient's entreaty,had come to inspect Miss Underwood. His amazement at the spectacle ofher companions was unbounded, and did not make him merciful to Lance,whom he meant to have next visited in bed, and whose throbbing pulses,varying complexion, heavy eyes, aching limbs, palpitating breath,and untasted meal, all indicated that he ought to have been there.The reproof was not like the rough uncompromising scolding Rugg waswont to bestow; but with quiet irony Dr. Tom impressed on Lance thatgetting up had been a recklessly foolish pastime, in which he mighthave been permitted to indulge so far as his own insignificant welfarewas concerned, but that he could not be permitted to inflict anotherserious illness on his family. The only thing that was proper by themwas immediately to repair to his bed, and there await the upshot of hisimprudence, so as to mitigate the effect as much as possible.
And then summarily carrying off his sister, Tom began as soon asthey were outside the gate, 'This is simply the most extraordinaryproceeding I ever heard of.'
Gertrude held her tongue.
'May I ask whether my father is in the habit of permitting these freakswhen he is visiting his patients?'
'I beg your pardon,' she answered. 'I forget the unapproachableness ofyour patients when they are my dearest friends.'
'Oh, indeed!' Then presently, and as if for fear the groom shouldhear--'_Les demoiselles font beaucoup de choses mal a propos a l'heurequ'il est, mais je vous conseille de ne pas avouer votre preference asi haute voix_.'
'I don't care,' she said, scorning the veil, 'who knows that I glory inappreciating heroism.'
'The heroism of getting upset in a boat!'
She deigned no reply; and he waited, trusting to her feminine nature tomake her begin again, but silence was her only refuge from angry tearsor words, and she kept it till the Church Ewe station was in sight.
'Thank you,' she said. 'I'll go home by train.'
He had visits to make, and was glad to be quit of her, but withelaborate cold care came to the station, found that a train was nearlydue, and waited with her. He must have done so for the purpose ofsaying, 'Mind! these are estimable persons, but that is no reason fordropping self-restraint.' Then, as her pout nettled him, 'Nothing ismore disgusting or unmaidenly than pursuit of one in a lower walk oflife.'
'Walks of life are what men make them.' And they treated each otherwith dignified silence till the train came.
'Well,' said Dr. May, on hearing his son's story, 'the Press is kingnow-a-days, and one daughter is his tribute.' The Doctor still liked totease Tom.
Meantime, Lance, in no condition to resist, had betaken himself tohis own chamber, but only to find the housemaid had left the bed inthe most approved sanitary state--so long as it was not to be lainon. Not sorry for a dispensation from captivity, he extracted hisprivate horse-hair pillow from the pile of bed-clothes, and cameback to the painting-room, where Cherry cleared her large sofa, andcovered him up with her Indian silk quilt, he smiling blissfully, andobserving, 'Isn't she the dearest girl in the world?' Cherry mighthave heard a great deal, had it been possible to her to sit and talkwhen innumerable messages were coming for her. When she had answeredthe first, he began again with 'So sweet and generous.' Then came thesecond which involved a note. When she looked at him again, he onlysmiled. She next had to go down to the kitchen; and on her cautiousreturn she found him asleep, breathing like a child, and a colour--notfever--coming into his cheek.
'Poor fellow!' she sighed to herself. 'I wonder if there is any hopefor him; but if the notion only bears him through to-day, it is ablessing!'
Poor Cherry! Such as this was all the nursing she was good for. Hernerves made her not to be trusted alone in a sick-room, not to do equaldamage to herself and the patient; and she could only sit with the doorajar, writing notes, and acting as referee to countless questions, allin an undertone out of respect to Lance's slumbers.
And there meanwhile sat Angela, trusted to fan Felix, refresh himwith a strawberry or spoonful of iced lemonade, bathe his face witheau-de-cologne, or catch his slightest wish, cares so congenial,that she liked them for a stranger, how much more delightful for 'mybrother;' and though she knew more clearly than anyone save Johnand Clement how precarious his state was, youthful buoyancy viewedthe danger as the cause of future triumph. To be a lady-doctor wassurely her vocation! What a pity Charlie was heir to a baronetcy! Andhe had finally saved her--though she had kept herself afloat--_he_might be allowed the honour of her rescue; and if it made him herfate, Lady Audley, M.D., should obtain a magnificent triumph overconventionality, far beyond all her former conceptions.
When Clement came into the room at noon, she would not give up herplace. Felix looked up to him, and said, 'You are seeing to things!'
'Yes--' interrogatively.
'Try how near that willow it can be.'
'I will.'
'How about the inquest?'
'At the Rood this afternoon. Never mind about that.'
'Only see there is no injustice to those poor lads! It was our owndoing;' and as Clement looked amazed, 'if our boat had not swunground;' but the earnestness with which the words were spoken broughta thrill of pain that cut him short; and they wiped his brow, andsprinkled him with scent, and watched anxiously till the lines aboutthe eyes and mouth began to relax, and he smiled thanks back, thenclosed his eyes.
Clement left the room unheard, for the heat of the day compelled theopening of window and doors. He had only just became conscious thatfrom the moment of the accident he had never had leisure to considerthe cause; and he went across to the painting-room, where he did notfind Cherry; but Lance awoke at his entrance, sat up, and in answer tohis apology and inquiry pronounced, 'There's wonderful virtue in sleep.I don't think any of the ills Tom May threatened me with are coming topass.'
'Your head?'
'No worse than I'm well used to, thank you. How is it in there?'
Clement told him what had just passed, adding, 'What do you remember?'
'My notion,' said Lance, 'was simply that we were overtaken by a lot ofscamps too excited to perceive what they were about, and egged on byAngel's unlucky song.'
'I doubt the "excitement" being of the technical kind, unless the waterhad a very sudden sobering effect.'
'Indeed! Well, considering that you were in your shirt-sleeves, theirnot perceiving that we weren't in their style was not so wonderful.So Felix says we ought to have cleared them. Ay, I do remember theswinging round now.'
'An oar must have missed the stroke, and brought her stern foul of theother.'
'He must have seen who it was,' said Lance.
'Yes, but as the point is to exonerate these fellows, there seems noneed to drive it close home among ourselves.'
'No, _she_ need never know exactly what she has done,' said Lance.
'I did not say she never should,' returned Clement; 'but the publicneed not. In fact, we have nothing to say. Felix, in the stern, mayhave seen, but I did not.'
'And Charlie Audley?'
'If he knows no more positively than we do, you may be sure he willnot draw inferences. I wonder he has not been here yet, by-the-by.'
'You don't mean to forewarn him?'
'Certainly not.'
'No, it would not be right. All we determine is that it shall not beknown through us, if we can keep truth and justice without,' saidLance; 'and if appearances are to be trusted, he is likely to be asready--or more so--to shield he
r as any one of us.'
'I believe that is as great an absurdity as any of the rest,' saidClement, gloomily.