"You puzzle me, doctor," said Moredock; "you do, indeed. I've been
a-going to church all my life, and I've listened to hundreds o' sarmons,
and I know all about the Good Samaritan and duty towards your neighbour;
but how, after what happened, you could tie him up and sticking-plaster
him, and then go next mornin' to see how he was, caps me."
"Never mind about that, Moredock," said North quickly, and looking
restlessly about the cottage interior. "I think we may feel satisfied
he did not revive while he was in the mausoleum."
"Not he. I thought he was never going to 'vive any more. So you mean
to go there again?"
"Yes, Moredock--yes," said North, with his eyes moving wildly round. "I
must go on now. I have lost too much time as it is."
"All right, doctor. If you say as we'll go, that's enough."
"You feel convinced that no one has observed us?"
"Yes, I'm convinced, as you call it, of that, doctor. I've kept the
secret too well. And so you mean to go again?"
"Go again, man! Yes. Did I not tell you so?" cried North, with an
angry excitement in his voice. "Yes, to-night."
"To-night, eh? Very well, doctor. I'll be there; but you'll take a
drop o' that cordle with you. There won't be no need for me to watch
the vestry to-night."
North made an impatient gesture, and walked to the door as if to go, but
turned sharply, and walked back to where the sexton was seated smoking.
"What was it you said?" he asked, in an absent way.
"What did I ask, doctor?"
"Yes, yes, man," cried North impatiently, as he kept glancing towards
the door.
"Oh, 'bout that there cordle, doctor. I haven't been quite right since
that night, and I thought a drop or two might do me good, and--"
Moredock stopped in the middle of his sentence, and sat staring, for
North had suddenly turned and walked straight out of the place.
"Doctor's not got over his tumble that night," muttered the old man.
"He's shook, that's what's the matter with him; and he haven't got his
thinking tackle quite put right again. It's worried him, too, about
that there gel. Well, she won't come to the vestry to-night, and
there's no fear o' Squire Tom coming, for he won't be out o' bed, they
say, for days. Miss won't want to go and sit there all by herself
wi'out she thinks as the doctor would do now. A baggage!--that's what
she is--a baggage! and looking all the time so smooth and good. Wonder
what parson would say if he knowed of her goings on?"
The old man sat musing and smoking for an hour, and then, by way of
preparation for his night work, he let his head go down upon his chest,
and sat sleeping in front of his fire for hours.
As the evening wore on, Joe Chegg came sauntering by, and then returned,
so as to get a casual glance in at the window. Then he had another, and
satisfied at last that the old man was fast asleep, he stood watching
him till he saw by the failing fire that the sleeper was about to
awaken, when he drew back, and softly and thoughtfully went away.
Just before twelve the old man took his lanthorn, went to the door, and
looked out; stood for a while, and then, with an activity not to be
expected of one of his years, he walked sharply and silently in the
direction of the churchyard, keeping a keen lookout for interlopers.
But his walk beneath the glittering stars was uninterrupted, and he made
his way silently to the back of the church, looked about him, and,
seeing no one, unlocked the iron gate and the mausoleum door, and then
turned to wait.
But as he turned, he started, for a hand was laid upon his shoulder.
"Why, doctor, I didn't hear you come."
"I was sitting there waiting," said North. "Quick!"
He pressed the door, and looked right into the dark place, where he had
not been since Tom Candlish was lifted out and placed by the roadside on
the night of the encounter; while now it seemed to the sexton that his
companion was beset by a feverish energy and desire to continue his
task.
"All right, doctor--all right! Wait till I get a light," grumbled the
old man, after he had closed the door. "That's it. There you are.
Brought the cordle?"
"Yes."
"You won't want me, and I'm a bit tired and wearied out to-night. Ha,
that's it! Good stuff, doctor. Thankye, doctor. Hah-h-h!"
He tossed off the potent dram that was handed to him, and gave back the
silver cup, which fitted upon the end of the doctor's little flask.
Then, quite as a matter of habit, he went to the ledge where he had so
often sat, and, after muttering for a few minutes, fell off into an easy
sleep.
North had stood motionless after lighting his shaded lamp, evidently
deep in thought; but a heavy breathing from the corner of the solemn
place roused him, and he lifted the lanthorn, crossed to the sleeper,
and held the light to his face.
"Asleep!" he muttered, returning to the great stone slab, and setting
down the light. "What's that?" he cried sharply; and, starting back, he
looked wildly about the place.
"How absurd!" he muttered, after satisfying himself that they were
alone. "Want of sleep. My nerves are shaken, and this incessant pain
seems too much for me. But I will succeed. She shall see my success,
and learn that I am not a man to be cast aside and crushed by her. Yes,
I will succeed. It cannot be too late."
He seized the white sheet that covered the subject of his study, but
instead of drawing it gently aside, as was his wont, he gave it a sharp
snatch, lifted the lamp, and gazed down, thinking of what steps he
should take next.
"So many days since," he muttered; "so many days. It cannot be too
late. Now to make up for lost time."
He turned up his cuffs, took a small bottle from where it stood upon the
slab, and was in the act of removing the stopper, when he uttered a cry
of horror, and darted towards the door, dropping the bottle upon the
sawdust which covered the stone floor, as he clapped his hands to his
face, and then reeled against the wall, to stand clinging to the
stone-work of one of the niches.
There was a light there on the stone slab, but it was as nothing to the
light which had flashed in, as it were, to his brain; for he had come
there that night to finish his task, and it was as though that task were
already complete, and that which he had been waiting to achieve was
ready to his hand, but in a way which he had never anticipated, and the
revelation seemed more than he could bear.
Volume 2, Chapter XXII.