"I am sending them to London," the stranger repeated; "perhaps you could give them to me to-day.""They are ready; my sister will show you."Her eyes seemed to dart into his soul, and try to drag something from it.The words rushed from her lips"Is there any message for me?"The stranger regarded her curiously.
"No," he stammered, "no! I guess not.He is well....I wish...." He stopped; her white face seemed to flash scorn, despair, and entreaty on him all at once.And turning, she left him standing there.
XXVII
When Christian went that evening to her uncle's room he was sitting up in bed, and at once began to talk."Chris," he said, "I can't stand this dying by inches.I'm going to try what a journey'll do for me.I want to get back to the old country.The doctor's promised.There's a shot in the locker yet! I believe in that young chap; he's stuck to me like a man....It'll be your birthday, on Tuesday, old girl, and you'll be twenty.Seventeen years since your father died.You've been a lot to me....A parson came here today.
That's a bad sign.Thought it his duty! Very civil of him!
I wouldn't see him, though.If there's anything in what they tell you, I'm not going to sneak in at this time o' day.There's one thing that's rather badly on my mind.I took advantage of Mr.Harz with this damned pitifulness of mine.You've a right to look at me as I've seen you sometimes when you thought I was asleep.If Ihadn't been ill he'd never have left you.I don't blame you, Chris--not I! You love me? I know that, my dear.But one's alone when it comes to the run-in.Don't cry! Our minds aren't Sunday-school books; you're finding it out, that's all!" He sighed and turned away.
The noise of sun-blinds being raised vibrated through the house.Afeeling of terror seized on the girl; he lay so still, and yet the drawing of each breath was a fight.If she could only suffer in his place! She went close, and bent over him.
"It's air we want, both you and I!" he muttered.Christian beckoned to the nurse, and stole out through the window.
A regiment was passing in the road; she stood half-hidden amongst the lilac bushes watching.The poplar leaves drooped lifeless and almost black above her head, the dust raised by the soldiers' feet hung in the air; it seemed as if in all the world no freshness and no life were stirring.The tramp of feet died away.Suddenly within arm's length of her a man appeared, his stick shouldered like a sword.He raised his hat.
"Good-evening! You do not remember me? Sarelli.Pardon! You looked like a ghost standing there.How badly those fellows marched! We hang, you see, on the skirts of our profession and criticise; it is all we are fit for." His black eyes, restless and malevolent like a swan's, seemed to stab her face."A fine evening! Too hot.The storm is wanted; you feel that? It is weary waiting for the storm;but after the storm, my dear young lady, comes peace." He smiled, gently, this time, and baring his head again, was lost to view in the shadow of the trees.
His figure had seemed to Christian like the sudden vision of a threatening, hidden force.She thrust out her hands, as though to keep it off.
No use; it was within her, nothing could keep it away! She went to Mrs.Decie's room, where her aunt and Miss Naylor were conversing in low tones.To hear their voices brought back the touch of this world of everyday which had no part or lot in the terrifying powers within her.
Dawney slept at the Villa now.In the dead of night he was awakened by a light flashed in his eyes.Christian was standing there, her face pale and wild with terror, her hair falling in dark masses on her shoulders.
"Save him! Save him!" she cried."Quick! The bleeding!"He saw her muffle her face in her white sleeves, and seizing the candle, leaped out of bed and rushed away.
The internal haemorrhage had come again, and Nicholas Treffry wavered between life and death.When it had ceased, he sank into a sort of stupor.About six o'clock he came back to consciousness; watching his eyes, they could see a mental struggle taking place within him.
At last he singled Christian out from the others by a sign.
"I'm beat, Chris," he whispered."Let him know, I want to see him."His voice grew a little stronger."I thought that I could see it through--but here's the end." He lifted his hand ever so little, and let it fall again.When told a little later that a telegram had been sent to Harz his eyes expressed satisfaction.
Herr Paul came down in ignorance of the night's events.He stopped in front of the barometer and tapped it, remarking to Miss Naylor:
"The glass has gone downstairs; we shall have cool weather--it will still go well with him!"When, with her brown face twisted by pity and concern, she told him that it was a question of hours, Herr Paul turned first purple, then pale, and sitting down, trembled violently."I cannot believe it,"he exclaimed almost angrily."Yesterday he was so well! I cannot believe it! Poor Nicholas! Yesterday he spoke to me!" Taking Miss Naylor's hand, he clutched it in his own."Ah!" he cried, letting it go suddenly, and striking at his forehead, "it is too terrible; only yesterday he spoke to me of sherry.Is there nobody, then, who can do good?""There is only God," replied Miss Naylor softly.
"God?" said Herr Paul in a scared voice.
"We--can--all--pray to Him," Miss Naylor murmured; little spots of colour came into her cheeks."I am going to do it now."Herr Paul raised her hand and kissed it.
"Are you?" he said; "good! I too." He passed through his study door, closed it carefully behind him, then for some unknown reason set his back against it.Ugh! Death! It came to all! Some day it would come to him.It might come tomorrow! One must pray!
The day dragged to its end.In the sky clouds had mustered, and, crowding close on one another, clung round the sun, soft, thick, greywhite, like the feathers on a pigeon's breast.Towards evening faint tremblings were felt at intervals, as from the shock of immensely distant earthquakes.