Produced by Al Haines.
[Illustration: Cover]
CLARA VAUGHAN
_A NOVEL_
IN THREE VOLUMES
VOL II.
R. D. Blackmore
London and Cambridge:
MACMILLAN AND CO.
1864.
_The Right of Translation and Reproduction is reserved._
LONDON:
R. CLAY, SON, AND TAYLOR, PRINTERS,
BREAD STREET HILL.
CLARA VAUGHAN
BOOK II. (_continued_).
CHAPTER XVII.
Late in the evening of that same day, I sat in my room by the firelight
only (for I could not work) and tried to look into myself, and find out
the cause of my strange attraction or rather impulsion towards Isola.
Somehow or other I did not wonder so much that she should be drawn quite
as strongly towards me, although an impartial observer would perhaps
have wondered far more. Alter puzzling myself in vain with this
inquiry, my thoughts began to move, in their usual gloomy train.
Eight years had now elapsed, and what had I discovered? Nothing; but at
long dark intervals some impress of the deed itself, more than of the
doer. Had I halted in pursuit, or had my vengeance cooled? To the
former question my conscience answered "yes," to the latter "no."
Gentle influences had been shed around me, sorrow had bedewed the track
of hate, intercourse with happy harmless people, and gratitude for
unmerited kindness; it was not in human nature, however finely
constitute for evil, entirely to repulse these powers.
I could not deny, that the religion of my heart, during the last
twelvemonth, had been somewhat neglected. For my devotion to dear
mother, no plea was required. But the time since that, what business
had I with laughing children, and snug firesides, with dickybirds, and
Sandy the squirrel? Even sweet Isola caused me a pang of remorse; but
no, I could not quite abandon her. But now, thank God, I was in the
right road again, and plodding resolutely as my father could expect. To
his spirit, ever present with me, I knelt down and poured out my
remorse; and swore to make amends, whatever it might cost me. Yet even
then, a gentle shadow seemed to come as well, and whisper the words that
calmed the face of death.
My musings, if so mild a word may suit them, were roughly interrupted by
a loud step on the stairs. Inspector Cutting, who could walk when
needful like a cat, loved to redress this injury to the Goddess Echo, by
making double noise when not on business. Farmer Huxtable, a man of
twice the weight, would have come up those stairs at half the expense in
sound.
When he entered the room, he found himself in a semi-official state
again, and I saw that he was not come for nothing. In a few brief
words, he told me what he had done, which was not very much; or perhaps
my suspicion was right, that he only told me a part of it. Then he said
abruptly,
"Miss Valence, I know pluck when I see it."
"What do you mean, Mr. Cutting?"
"Excuse me, I forgot that you have been reared in the country. What I
mean is, that I believe you possess an unusual share of courage."
"As to that, I cannot say, having never been severely tried; but in such
a cause as mine, I could go through a good deal."
"And not lose your presence of mind, even in real danger?"
"That again I cannot say, and for the same reason. But I am quite ready
to make the trial."
I felt the colour mounting in my cheeks. How glad I should be to prove
to myself that I was not ignoble. He observed me closely, and appeared
quite satisfied.
"What I have to propose to you, is attended with no little danger."
"I will do my utmost not to be afraid. I am more impulsive perhaps than
brave, but what is life worth to me? I will try to think of that all
the time. No doubt you have a good reason for exposing me to danger."
"Certainly I have, Miss Valence. For your own purpose it is most
important that you should be able to identify certain persons, whom I
shall show you to-night; that is, unless I am misinformed."
"To-night! so late as this?" And I began to tremble already.
"Yes, we must go to-night, or wait for another fortnight; and then it
would be no earlier, even if we got such a chance again. And for your
sake it is better than to be in a fright for a fortnight."
"Inspector Cutting, I am in no fright whatever. At least I mean no more
so than any other girl would be, who felt a vague danger impending. I
hope and trust that my father's memory and the justice of God will be
with me."
"Young lady, I see that I may safely venture it. If you had boasted, I
should have hesitated, though I have had some proof already of your
determination. The chief, and indeed the only danger, is lest you lose
your presence of mind, and that most females would do, if placed as you
will be. Now I wish you to make deliberate choice, and not to be
carried away by impulse vindictiveness, or the love of adventure; which,
when the spirit is high like yours, too often leads young females into
trouble, from which it is not always possible even for the most capable
members of the force to extricate them."
"Of course I know all that. How much longer are we to talk? Must I
disguise myself? When am I to be ready? And where are we going?"
"Now you are growing impatient. That is not a good sign. Remember, I
can easily procure another witness; but for your own sake I wish to give
you the chance. Probably you will see to-night the man who killed your
father."
As he spoke my flesh was creeping, and my blood ran cold, then suddenly
flushed through my system like electric fluid. He began again as coolly
as if he were reporting a case of some one discovered "drunk and
incapable." From force of habit, he touched his forehead, and stood at
attention, as he spoke. "In consequence of information which I have
received, I have been induced to make certain inquiries, which have
resulted in the conviction that the criminal I am in search of will be
present at a certain place this night, at a certain hour. It is
therefore my intention to embrace the opportunity of--"
"Catching him!" cried I in a breathless hurry.
"To embrace the opportunity," continued the Inspector, like a talking
oak, "of conducting my investigations personally, and in the presence of
a witness. The effect thereby produced upon my mind shall be entered
duly, the moral effect I should have said, and the cause of justice will
be promoted as rapidly as is consistent with the principles of our
glorious constitution."
"Do you mean to say that you will let him go?"
"No, I shall not let him go, Miss Valence, for the simple reason that I
shall not apprehend him. I see that you are inclined to take the law
into your own hands. That will never do for me."
"Oh no, I am not. A year ago I would have done so. But I am older and
wiser now."
I was thinking of dear mother; and began to feel already that my
character was changing.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Inspector Cutting gave me some minute instructions, and in less than
half an hour we set forth upon our enterprise. I was wrapped in a loose
grey cloak having a hooded cape; and carefully hidden I carried for
self-defence a very keen stiletto. I had procured it indirectly from
the best cutler in London, but neither workmanship nor material could be
compared to that of Italy.
The night was dark and cold, the streets were almost deserted, and all
the shops except the chemists' and the public-houses closed. We walked
straightway to the nearest cabstand, where Mr. Cutting ordered a
vehicle, and put me inside, himself riding with the driver. So little
did I know as yet of London, that after the first turn or two, I could
not even guess what direction we were taking. I had such confidence in
my guide, a staid respectable man with a grown up family, that I never
thought there could be harm in my journeying with him at night. And
even had I thought so, most likely I should have done it all the same.
Ever since the time he wounded me, or allowed me to wound myself, his
manner towards me had been most kind, considerate, and respectful;
though he found it his duty now and then to repress my impetuosity.
With all my perception alert, I kept a sharp look-out from the window,
but vainly strove to find anything that might serve for a landmark.
Once we stopped for about five minutes, at a police-station somewhere in
Clerkenwell, where, by the light of a lamp, I read, without leaving the
cab, the ghastly descriptions of all the dead bodies recently found in
London and waiting identification. Hereupon my courage began to ooze,
and the weather seemed much colder. The type was hard to read at that
distance, and the imagination had fair play, as it does when words come
slowly.
Anon the inspector reappeared, so altered in dress and countenance, that
I did not know him until he made me a bow. With a glance of
encouragement, and a little grin of dry humour, he mounted the box
again. After another long drive, in the course of which we ran silently
over a wooden road,--probably High Holborn,--we stopped in a broad but
deserted thoroughfare, very badly lighted. Here Mr. Cutting opened the
door, helped me out, and discharged the cab, but whispered something to
the driver before he let him go.
"Now take my arm, Miss Valence, if you please. I have escorted many a
lady of higher birth than yours."
"Of higher title perhaps, Mr. Cutting; and their grandfathers
money-lenders, or perhaps far worse."
"I am sure I don't know; we must take things as we find them. I thought
you despised such nonsense. But the cabbage that runs to seed is the
tallest in the field. No Englishman sees the nonsense of it, unless he
happens to be a detective or a grave-digger."
"Do you mean to say that those of lofty birth are worse than those of
low birth?"
"No, I mean nothing of the sort. But I do mean that they ought to be
better, and on the whole are not so. Nature holds the balance, and
temptation and education chuck into the opposite scales, and I think the
first chucks fastest. At any rate I would rather have a good drunken
navvy than a lord to take to the station. I mean of course when my own
rank was not what it is."
This little dissertation was meant to divert my thoughts. I made no
reply, being ignorant of such matters; neither did I care to talk about
them then. Nevertheless, I believe Inspector Cutting was wrong. As we
entered a narrow street he suddenly turned and looked at me.
"Poor child! how you tremble! Draw your cape more forward; the bitter
cold requires it. Are you trembling from fear?"
"No; only from cold." But I tried in vain to think so.
"A steady hand and steadfast nerve are wanted for your task. If you
cannot rely on them, say so at once. In five minutes you will have no
retreat."
"I shall be better directly. But I am so cold. Inspector Cutting, it
must be freezing hard--ten degrees, I should think."
"It does not freeze at all. I see we must warm you a little. But no
more 'Inspector Cutting,' if you please, until to-morrow."
Hereupon he led me into a little room, fenced off from the bar of some
refreshment-house. A glorious fire was burning, by which he set and
left me. Presently he returned, with a small glass in his hand.
"Drink this, young lady. It will warm you, and brace your nerves."
I saw by the firelight that it was brandy, or some dark-coloured spirit.
"No, I thank you. Do you suppose that I require Dutch courage?"
I threw such emphasis on the personal pronoun, and looked at him so
indignantly, that he laughed outright.
"I thank you in turn. You suppose that I do. I will justify your
discernment." And with that he tipped it off, and then returned to
business, all the graver for the interlude.
"Now, if you are really warm, we will start again. Stop one moment. I
have heard you cough two or three times. Can you keep it under?"
I assured him that I could very easily do so, and that it was nothing
but the sudden effect of the cold. Forth we went again into the winter
night, after I had learned from him that we were now in Whitechapel, not
far from Goodman's Fields.
After another short walk, we came to the end of a narrow by-street,
where there was an archway. Passing through this archway, we descended
some steep and broken steps. Then the Inspector produced a small lamp
brightly burning, which he must have lit at the public-house. It was
not what is called a bull's-eye, but a reflector-lamp. By its light I
saw that the chief entrance to the house must be round the corner, and
perhaps in another street. With a small key which he took from his
pocket, Mr. Cutting unlocked a little iron gate, and we entered a narrow
passage. At the end of it was a massive door studded with great nails.
Here my guide gave a gentle knock, and hid the lamp as before.
Presently we heard a shrill sound from the keyhole, like a dryad's
voice. The Inspector stooped thereto, and pronounced the password. Not
without some difficulty the lock was turned and the bolts withdrawn, and
we stood inside. A child, under-sized and unnaturally sharp, stared at
us for a moment, then dodged away from the lamp, as if more accustomed
to darkness. Mr. Cutting closed the door and refastened it, then led me
through some basement rooms unpaved and unfurnished, until we came to an
iron step-ladder. This he ascended, and helped me up, and we found
ourselves in a small dark lobby, containing no furniture, except a high
three-legged stool. When he closed his lamp all around was dark, but on
the rafters overhead a faint patch of light appeared--ceiling there was
none.
"Do you see that light?" he whispered to me, pointing, as I could just
perceive, to a narrow glazed opening high in the wall, whence the faint
gleam proceeded.
"Then jump upon this stool, and do your best to see through."
He cast the light of his lamp upon the stool for a moment, while I did
as he bade me. Standing there, I found that I was tall enough to look
through; but the narrow pane which formed the window was thickly covered
with size, or some opaque integument. All I could tell was, that the
space beyond was lighted.
"I know you can't see now," he said, as I came down despairing, "but you
shall see by and by. The fools who were here before sized the glass on
the wrong side, and this lot, though much sharper, have not corrected
the error. They keep that window for escape in the last resort. Now
take this bottle and this camel's-hair brush; it will make the glass
transparent without the smallest noise. The men are not there yet. We
could easily rub it clear now, but they will examine it. When the time
comes, use the liquid most carefully and lightly, and don't spread it
higher than an inch from the bottom of the frame. The lights are at
this end; the shadow of the sill will allow you just an inch."
"And how far may I go horizontally?"
"The whole length of the glass, to command as much view as possible.
The effect will pass in three or four minutes, but you must not do it
again. If you do, the glass will fly, and you will be in their hands.
Desperate men they are, and though I shall be near, I might be too late
to save you. See all you can, to be able to swear to them all."
"How shall I know the one?"
"I cannot tell you. I must leave it to your instinct, or your
intuition. I only know myself that he is one of the four. My
information, such as it is, was obtained very oddly, and I trust to this
night's work to make it more precise. One thing more: No noise, if you
value your life. Keep the bottle stopped. Don't let the stuff drop on
you; don't put your eyes to it, or it will blind you for ever. There is
very little of it, because it is so deadly."
"When shall I do it?"
"In one hour from this time. Take this repeater. I have shown you how
to use it. Look well at it now, while you have the light."
I looked at the watch; it was nearly midnight.
"Am I to be left in the dark--all in the dark here, by myself?"
"Yes. I must be seen elsewhere, or the whole thing fails. They know me
even in this dress, and they watch me as I do them. But for to-night I
believe I have misled them. When it is over, wait here till I come for
you, or the little girl you saw."
"Oh! I wish I had never come; and all so vague and indecisive!"
"You can go back now, if you please; though ever that would be
dangerous."
"I will not go back. No doubt I shall know him. When will you secure
him?"
"When my evidence is completed. Now, remember, you have to deal with
men keen as hawks, and stealthy as tigers. But there is no real danger,
if you keep your self-command. Observe all four as narrowly as you can,
both for your own sake and for mine. Be careful to stand on the centre
of the stool. But you had better not get upon it until they have
searched the room. Now, good-bye. I trust to your courage. If any
harm comes, I will avenge you."
"A comfort that! What good will it be to me?"
"If vengeance is no good, what are you doing here?"
"Thank you. That is no business of yours. Don't let me detain you."
He told me afterwards that he had vexed me on purpose to arouse my
mettle. And I am sure I needed it.
"Ah! now you are all right. If your caution fails you, the man who slew
your father will be sure to escape us."
"If it fails me, 'twill be from anger, not from terror."
"I know it. Let me look at you."
He threw the full light on my face. The burnished concave was not
brighter or firmer than my eyes.
"Pale as death, and quite as resolute. Rely only upon yourself."
"God and myself," I whispered, as he glided out of sight along the
vaults below. I could see no other entrance to the place in which I
sat; but how could I tell?
For a minute excitement kept me hot; but as the last gleam of the light
died upon the wall below, my heart began to throb heavily, and a chill
came over me. The pulse thumped in my ears, like a knocking in the
cellar. "Was it fear?" I asked myself, in scorn that I should ask. No,
it was not fear, but horrible suspense. The balance of life and death,
of triumph and disgrace, swung there before me in the dark, as if my
breath would turn it. No dream of a child, no vagary of the brain--the
clear perception of strong will and soul poised upon this moment.
The moment was too long; the powers began to fail, the senses grew more
faint and confused at every heavy throb. Little images and little
questions took the place of large ones. In vain I looked for even a
cobweb, or the skeleton of a fly, where the dull light flickered through
the pane of glass. In vain I listened for a mouse. Even a rat (much as
I hate him) would have been welcome then. The repeater was purposely
made so low of tick, that I got no comfort thence. All was deep,
unfathomable silence, except the sound of my rebel heart.
As a forlorn hope, I began to reckon sixty slowly, as a child keeps with
a ticking clock.
It would not do. My heart was beating louder than ever, and my hands
were trembling; even my teeth rattled like dice in a box as the time
approached.
The nerves will not be hoodwinked; the mind cannot swindle the body. I
once slapped the cheeks of my governess. I cannot treat nature so. Try
the sweet influence, and the honest coin of reason. It will not do.
All trembling, I strike the repeater. Five minutes more, and the trial
must come. My heart is fluttering like a pigeon's throat. The long
suspense has been too much. Oh! why was I submitted to this cruel
ordeal? The walls are thick. I can hear no movement in the secret room.
There comes a creeping, fingering, sound, as of one whose candle is out,
groping for the door. It passes along the pane of glass, and a shadow
is thrown on the rafter. Who can it be? What stealthy hand but that of
my father's murderer?
The word--the thought is enough. What resolution, reason, justice, all
in turn, have failed to do, passion has done at once--passion at myself,
as well as at my enemy. Is it Clara Vaughan, who, for eight long years
of demon's reign, has breathed but for this moment--is Clara Vaughan to
shake like the wooden-legged blackbird now her chance is come?
A rush of triumph burned, like vitriol, through my veins. Every nerve
was braced, every sense alert and eager. Against the light of that
window, dull as it was, I could have threaded the finest needle that
ever was made.
I struck my repeater again. It was the hour, the minute, when my father
died. With the mere spring of my instep I leaped upon the stool. I
could see it clearly now. I dipped the broad camel's-hair brush in the
flat phial, holding it carefully at arm's length, and then drew it
lightly along the pane, quite at the bottom, from corner to corner. One
more dip, one more stripe above, a steam hovered on the glass, and there
was a gazing-place, clear as crystal, and wide enough to show most of
the narrow room. Of the room itself I took no heed; the occupants were
my study.
Only four in all. One man at a high desk writing rapidly; three men
sitting round a small table, talking earnestly, and with much
gesticulation, but the tone too low for me even to guess their language.
From the appearance, manner, and action of the speakers, I felt sure
that it was not English, and I thought that it was not French. Why, I
cannot say; but my attention fixed itself upon the man who was writing
at the top of the room. Perhaps it was because I could see him best,
for he stood with his face full towards me.
He was a man of middle age and stature, strongly framed, closely knit,
and light of limb, with a handsome, keenly oval face, broad forehead,
black eyes, glancing quickly and scornfully at his three comrades, long
hair of an iron grey, falling on his shoulders, and tossed back often
with a jerk of the head. His hands were white and restless, quick as
light in their motion. On the left thumb flashed a large red jewel.
Though I could not see the paper, I knew by the course of the quill that
the writing was very small. But one minute I watched him, for the film
was returning upon the glass, and I must scan the others; yet in that
time he had written several lines, half of them without looking at the
paper, but with his eyes upon the other three.
I knew him now he was in clear light, I could swear to him anywhere
again. The last glance I could spare him sent a shudder through me, for
in his impatience he shifted one foot from the shade of the desk. It
was small, pointed, and elegant.
The film was thickening, like frost upon the pane, when I began to
observe the others. But I saw enough to print their faces on my memory,
or those at least of two. The third I could not see so well. He seemed
older than the rest. All the men wore loose grey tunics, with a red
sash over the left shoulder. I judged that the three were debating
hotly, as to some measure, upon which the fourth had resolved. Every
now and then, they glanced at him uneasily.
At him I gazed again, with deadly hatred, cold as ice, upon my heart. I
felt my dagger handle. Oh for one moment with him! In my fury I forgot
the Inspector's warning. The film was closing over. I touched the
glass with my lashes. A flash of agony shot through my eyes. With a
jerk I drew back, the stool rocked under me, one foot of it struck the
wall. I clutched the window sill, and threw my weight inwards. Down
came the foot of the stool, loud as the bang of a door.
I thought it was all over. How I stifled a scream I know not; had it
escaped me, I should never have told this story. I had the presence of
mind to stand still, and watch, though my eyes were maddening me, what
the cut-throats would do. Through the agony, and the dimness, I could
just see them all start, and rush to the door at the side of the room.
The writer stood first, with his papers thrust anyhow into his bosom, a
pistol in one hand, a poniard in the other. Did I know the shape of it?
The other three were armed, but I could not see with what. They
crouched behind a heavy screen, presenting (I supposed) their pistol
muzzles at the door. Finding no attack ensue, they began to search. Now
was the real danger to me. If they searched that window before the size
returned, my life ended there. Fear was past. Desperation seized me.
If I was doomed to blindness, just as well to death. But I clutched my
dagger.
My left ear was against the wall. I heard a hand graze the partition
inside, then a chair placed under the embrasure, and a step upon it. I
was still upon the stool, stooping close beneath the window frame.
Suddenly the light streak vanished, the size flew over it, as the breath
flies over glass in the hardest frost. The hand felt along the window
frame, the dull shadow of a head flitted upon the beam. It was within a
foot of mine. The searcher passed on, without suspicion.
Strange it was, but now the deadliest peril was over, triple fear fell
upon me. The heat flew back to my heart, just now so stanch and rigid;
my hair seemed to creep with terror. Dear life, like true love scorned,
would have its way within me. Quietly I slid down from the stool, and
cowered upon it, in a storm of trembling. My eyelids dropped in agony,
I could not lift them again, but blue and red lights seemed to dance
within them. I had made up my mind to blindness; but not, oh not just
yet, to death.
How long I remained in this abject state, scorning myself, yet none the
braver, is more than I can tell, or even cared to ask. May it never be
the lot of any, not even the basest murderer! Worn out at last, in a
lull of pain and terror, I fell into deep sleep, from which I was
awakened by a hand upon my shoulder.
I tried to look up, but could not. Sight was fled, and as I thought for
ever. But I felt that it was a friend.
"Ah, I see how it is"--the voice was Inspector Cutting's--"my poor
child, there is now no danger. Give me your hand:" he tried to lift me,
but I fell against the wall.
"Take a sip of this, we must restore circulation. It is the cold as
much as anything; another sip, Miss Vaughan." He used my true name on
purpose; it helped to restore me. He was most humane and kind; he did
not even remind me of Dutch courage.
CLARA VAUGHAN
BOOK III.
CHAPTER I.
In the morning I dreamed of Isola. Across a broad black river, I saw
her lovely smile. Thick fog rose from the water, in which two swans
were beating a dog, and by snatches only could I see my darling. She
waved her little hand to me, and begged me, with that coaxing smile
which bent cast iron and even gold, to come across to Isola. In vain I
looked for a boat, even in my dream I knew that I could not swim, and if
I could, the lead upon my eyelids would have sunk me. So I called to
her to come to me, and with that cry awoke.
It was striking ten--my own little clock which my father gave me. I
counted every stroke. What was Mrs. Shelfer doing, that she had not
called me yet? What was I doing, that I lay there so late; for I always
get up early? And what was the sun about, that no light came into the
room? I knew it was ten in the morning.
I felt all round. I was in my little bed, the splinter at the side of
the head-board ran into my finger as usual. There I was, and nowhere
else. Was it a tremendous fog? If it was, they should have told me,
for they knew that I liked fogs. At least they thought so, from the
interest I felt.
I groped for the little bell-pull, a sleezy worsted cord, which meant to
break every time, but was not strong enough to do it. I jerked with all
my strength, which seemed very little somehow. What a pleasure! The
bell rang like a fire-peal. I fell back on the pillow, exhausted, but
determined to have it out with Mrs. Shelfer. I put my hands up to
arrange my hair, to look a little more like Clara Vaughan, when the
light should enter, and to frighten Mrs. Shelfer.
There was something on my head. I never wear a night-cap; my long black
hair would scorn it. Am I in a madhouse, is this put to keep me cool?
Cold it is, and my brain so hot. All Wenham lake on Dives, and he will
only hiss. While I am pulling at it, and find it streaming wet, in
comes--I know her step--Mrs. Shelfer. But there is no light from the
passage!
"Mrs. Shelfer, what do you mean by this?"
"By what, my dear good soul? I have done all the blessed things I was
told to do for you. You might have put a ostrich feather or a marabout
to my mouth, Miss Valence, and tucked me up, and a headstone, and none
the wiser, when Uncle John brought you home last night."
"I suppose I am dreaming. But I am sure I rang the bell."
"Miss Valence, you did so, and no mistake. Bless me! I started in my
shoes. A good job, Shelfer wasn't home, he's so nervous. He'd have
gone for gin straightways. Now get up, that's a dear good soul, and
when you have had some breakfast, we'll talk over it, Miss Valence. Let
me see how your eyes are. Uncle John said they was bad, and I was to
keep them covered. I expects him here every minute. Now turn them up
to the light. What large eyes you have, to be sure. Bless me! Where
are your long black lashes?"
"Mrs. Shelfer, there is some strange mistake. Let the light into the
room."
I had risen in the bed, and her breath was on my forehead.
"Light, dear child, I can't let more. The sun is on your face."
I fell back upon my pillow, and could rise no more. The truth had been
tingling through me, all the time she talked. I was stone-blind. I
flung the bandage from me, and wished my heart would break. Mrs.
Shelfer tried some comfort. She seemed to grieve for my eyelashes, more
than for my eyes; and addressed her comfort more to my looks than sight.
Of course, I did not listen. When would the creature be gone, and let
me try to think?
Poor little thing! I was very sorry; what fault was it of hers? Who
and what am I, blind I, to find fault with any one who means me well? I
drop my eyelids, I can feel them fall; I lift them, I can feel them
rise; a full gaze, a side gaze, a half gaze; with both eyes, with one;
it is all the same; gaze there may be, but no sight. Henceforth I want
no eyelids.
The sun is on my face. I can feel his winter rays, though my cheeks are
wet. What use is he to me?
I have the dagger somewhere by which my father died. Let me find it, if
I can.
I could have sworn that the box was in that corner carefully concealed.
I strike against a washing-stand. Ah, now I have it; the box is locked,
my keys are in the top-drawer. I bear the box to the bed, and go
groping for the chest of drawers. Already I can tell by the sun-warmth
on my face, which way I am going. Surely, if I wait, I shall have the
instinct of the blind.
What care I for that? The coward love of life suggested that poor
solace. Now I have the keys. Quick unlock the box.
At length I throw the cover back. The weapon handle is to the right. I
stoop to seize it. I grasp a square of colour. Pretty instinct this!
I have got my largest drawing box.
Oh paints, my paints, so loved but yesterday, that ape the colours I
shall never see, my hot tears make you water-colours indeed! If God has
robbed my eyes of sight, He has not dried my tears.
The gushing flood relieves me. What right have I to die? Even without
asking if my case be hopeless! Who knows but what these lovely tints may
glow for me again? May I not once more intone the carmine damask of the
rose, the gauzy green of April's scarf? Softening scenes before me
rise. I lay my box of colours by, and creep into my bed for warmth.
Presently the doctor comes. Inspector Cutting has chosen him, and
chosen well. From his voice I know that he is a gentleman, from his
words and touch instinctively I feel that he understands the case.
When he has finished the examination he sees me trembling for the answer
which I dare not seek.
"Young lady, I have hopes, strong hopes. It is quite impossible to say
what course the inflammation may pursue. All depends on that. At
present there is a film over the membrane, but the cornea is uninjured.
Perfect quiet, composure, so far as in such a case is possible, cold
applications, and the exclusion of light, are the simple remedies. All
the rest must be left to nature. Avoid excitement of any kind. Diet as
low as possible. Do not admit your dearest friends, unless they will
keep perfect silence. Even so, they are better away, unless you pine at
loneliness."
"Oh no. I am quite accustomed to that."
"That is well. I shall make a point of calling daily, but shall not
examine your eyes every time. The excitement and the effort would
strain the optic nerve. Our object is to keep the inflammation from
striking inwards. I should not tell you all this, but I see that you
have much self-command. On that and your constitution, under
Providence, the cure depends. One question. I am not a professed
ophthalmist, would you prefer to have one?"
"Oblige me with your opinion."
"It is a delicate point for me. There is no operation to perform. It
is a medical, not a surgical case. I have dealt with such before. Were
you my own child I would call in no ophthalmist, but as you are a
stranger to me, I wish you to decide for yourself."
"Then, I will have none. I have perfect confidence in you."
He seemed gratified, and took his leave. "Please God, Miss Valence, you
shall look me in the face ere long."