Chapter 60
"No appeal, please; we must consult over the case and be alone. Trust me; we will do our best. There, you will come back soon."
Claude reluctantly allowed herself to be led out of the room, and then, as she stood in the great sombre-looking hall; she in turn staggered and would have fallen, but for Sarah Woodham's arm, and she suffered herself to be led into the drawing-room, where, with the awful truth beginning to grow and grow till it overshadowed her like a cloud she was about to fling herself sobbing in a chair, when a low sigh caught her ear.
Looking up, it was to see Mary Dillon coming slowly into the room, her eyes closed, and feeling her way along by the door, and then supporting herself by the various pieces of furniture she pa.s.sed.
"Mary!" cried Claude.
"Yes; I have been there--in there all the time. You did not see me, but I heard everything. Oh, Claude, is it all true?"
She did not wait for a response, but sank down, covering her face with her hands, and completely prostrated by her grief.
"No, no," whispered Claude, going to her, kneeling by her side, and, hungering for love and sympathy, drawing the weeping girl to her breast.
"Doctor Asher said that it was not so, Mary darling," she whispered; "help me to pray. He must not--he cannot die."
Sarah Woodham stood near them hearing every word, and a s.h.i.+ver swiftly ran through her as she listened to the allusions to death, and again and again, with her face working, she stretched out her hands as if to try and comfort the two weeping girls, but only to shake her head sadly, and draw back from where they were now clasped in each other's arms.
And the time went on.
Every few moments Claude rose to go to the door, and after opening it, stood listening intently, but the most she could hear was the low m.u.f.fled sound of voices, and each time she returned to her cousin's side with a despairing sigh.
"We seem so helpless," she exclaimed. "Surely I might go back now."
But she made no attempt to disobey the doctor's commands, and waited and waited till the low sobbing gave place to silent despair; and with eyes fixed upon the door, all sat waiting for the tidings that they dared not hope now would be good.
A step at last in the hall, and Claude flew to the drawing-room door, and flung it open, but only to shrink away, as she saw that it was not Asher, but the strange doctor--a new comer to the place--and one whom they had hardly spoken to before.
He came slowly across the hall, and bowed his head gravely as he entered, looking from one to the other, as if waiting to be interrogated, but no one spoke; and as the door swung to, the light of another day came stealing though the windows, and between the half-drawn blinds in a curious ghastly way, making everything look unreal, and the candles lit upon the table burn with a sickly glare.
Claude made an effort to speak twice, but the words failed upon her lips. She felt that she must rush by this strange, solemn-looking man, and seek the information she wanted in her father's room, but her limbs refused to act, and she stood holding on by the back of a chair, while the new doctor now fixed his eyes on Sarah Woodham, who stood there wild-looking and motionless, her eyes appearing to burn.
"I
"Well," she said harshly, "Why do you not speak?"
"Doctor Asher has given me a history of the case," he said, with an effort. "It is a most regretful incident. No one to blame. Perhaps Doctor Asher might have--but no--I should probably, under the circ.u.mstances, have been guilty of the same error."
He paused in his low, faltering delivery, for Sarah Woodham had taken a step toward him, bending forward, and fascinating him with her wild, dark eyes.
Then, after a painful interval, as a low, querulous wail arose from outside, followed by what sounded like a fiendish chorus of chattering laughter from the rocks below, where a flock of gulls were quarrelling over some refuse cast up by the sea, the doctor continued--
"We have done everything possible under the circ.u.mstances, but the case was beyond our power. Ladies, this is a most painful communication for me to have to make. Doctor Asher--completely prostrated by grief. His most prominent patient, and--"
Claude stretched out one hand blindly fur that of her cousin, and took a step toward the door, but, as they reached it, Mary uttered a low cry and shrank back, withdrawing her hand.
Claude did not notice the action, but went slowly out of the room, as one goes deliberately on when walking in sleep.
They followed her to the door and saw her cross the hall, into which the soft glow of morning was now stealing fast, and there was something weird and strange about her movements as she went on and slowly opened the study door, to pa.s.s from their sight, as it were, from day into night.
One moment, the morning light bathed her light dress and gave her a look that was mistily transparent; the next, as she pa.s.sed through the doorway into the shuttered and curtained room, the glow from the lamp within made her black and strange.
Then the door swung to behind her as she walked silently over the thick carpet.
"Miss Gartram! You have come?"
Claude made no reply, but walked straight to the couch upon which her father had been laid, and there she stood mentally stunned and unable to realise the fact.
His face looked stern and hard, but no more stern and hard than she had often seen it when she had stolen into the room where he had been lying asleep--as he appeared to be lying now--after some tiresome, wakeful night. Everything was the same, even to the faint odour of drugs and spirits which pervaded the place.
For one instant a flash of hope illumined her dark heart, but it was only for a moment. No: he would wake no more. The end had come; and as the truth forced itself deep down into her heart, she sank slowly upon her knees, placed her hands gently round the stalwart figure, and laying her cheek against the stony face, she whispered softly--
"Father, father! I loved you very dearly. Left--left alone!"
Volume Two, Chapter XII.
HER OWN MISTRESS.
Chris Lisle sat at the table, over his breakfast, but nothing was good.
He had all that money lying at his bank, and after trying all kinds of subterfuges to satisfy his conscience that he had as good a right to it as anybody--that if he had not won it some one else would--that people who gambled deserved no sympathy--that all was fair in money wars, as he dubbed gaming--and that he would do more good with the money than any one else--and the like, his conscience refused to be bamboozled and told him constantly that he had won that money by a clever piece of dishonourable sharping, and that he ought to be ashamed of himself.
And he was.
That was one non-appetiser; the other was his interview with the gardener the previous night, and over this, after waking with it ready to confront him, he had been metaphorically gnas.h.i.+ng his teeth.
"How I could have made myself such an a.s.s! How I could have been such an idiot as to run such risks! It is like dragging her down to be the common talk and gossip of the place. Why, I shall always be that scoundrel's slave. What an idiot he must have thought me!"
No wonder the coffee tasted bitter, and that the bacon was too salt, while he thrust the b.u.t.ter away as rancid, and the bread as being dry.
"If it were not for one thing I'd--Well, Mrs Sarson?"
The landlady had run in hastily, looking pale and excited, and then stood speechless before him.
"Is anything the matter?" exclaimed Chris, the blood rising to his cheeks, as with boyish dread he seemed to read in his landlady's eyes the fact that she knew of the past night's escapade.
"Matter, indeed, sir! Then you have not heard?"
"Heard what?"
"Mr Gartram, sir--dead!"
"What!"
Chris Lisle sprang from his chair and stood feeling as if the room was swimming round him, while the landlady went on hurriedly.
"I've just this minute heard, sir. There was a dinner party; Doctor Asher and that Mr Glyddyr, who has the yacht, were there; and they say he was taken bad about eleven. Doctor Asher stopped, and, in the middle of the night, the new doctor was fetched, too."
"Oh, it can't be true," cried Chris, and das.h.i.+ng out of the room he seized his hat and hurried along the street, but had not gone far before he was conscious of the fact that groups of people were standing about talking.
Further on he saw that shutters were closed; and as he reached the harbour there, lying off some distance was Glyddyr's yacht, with a flag up, half-mast high, while, as soon as he came in sight of the Fort-- Gartram's pride--in place of the bright glistening windows, every opening had a dull dead look, and appeared to be staring at him blankly.
There was no doubt now--every blind was drawn down.