CHAPTER XXII

EDGECUMBE'S RESOLVE

Some hours later I saw Colonel McClure again. He had become so

interested in Edgecumbe's case, that he refused to go back to Plymouth

until he was certain that all was well; and although Dr. Merril had left

early that morning, in order to attend to his patients, he had arranged

to meet him at Bolivick later.

'It's all right, Luscombe. Your friend's talking quite naturally with

Merril. He is rather weak, but otherwise he's splendid.'

'May I see him?' I asked eagerly.

'Oh, yes, certainly.'

When I entered the bedroom, I found Edgecumbe sitting up in bed, and

although he looked rather tired, he spoke naturally.

'I can't understand why I'm here,' he said, with a laugh, 'but I suppose

I must obey orders. I was tremendously surprised about half an hour ago

when on awaking I saw two men who told me they were doctors, and who

seemed frightfully interested in my condition.'

Dr. Merril went out of the room as he spoke, leaving us together.

'Has anything particular happened to me, Luscombe? You needn't be afraid

to tell me, man; I am all right.'

'Have you no remembrance of anything yourself?' I said.

'Nothing, except that I was attacked by a horrible pain, and that I

became blind. After that I think my senses must have left me, for I can

remember nothing more.'

I looked at him eagerly. I remembered Colonel McClure's injunction, and

yet I was more anxious than I can say to ask him questions.

'Did you feel nothing before the pain?'

'I felt awfully languid,' he replied, after a few seconds' silence, 'but

nothing more.'

He lifted himself up in the bed, and I could not help noticing that his

face looked younger, and that his skin was almost natural. The old,

parched look had largely passed away; it might have been as though a new

and rejuvenating force had entered his system.

'Springfield and I are in for a big battle.'

I wondered whether he knew anything of my suspicions, and whether by some

means or another the thoughts which haunted not only my mind, but that of

Colonel McClure, had somehow reached his.

'Springfield means to have her, but I am not going to let him.'

'You are thinking about Miss Bolivick,' I said.

'Who else?' And his face flushed as he spoke. 'When I saw her first, I

was hopeless, but now----'

'Yes, now,' I repeated, as I saw him hesitate, 'what now?'

For the moment I had forgotten all about his illness. I did not realize

that I might be doing wrong by allowing him to excite himself.

'Buller is not the danger,' he cried; 'he is but a puppet in

Springfield's hands. There's something between that man and me which I

can't explain; but there's going to be a battle royal between us. He

means to marry Lorna Bolivick. In his own way he has fallen in love with

her. But he shall never have her.'

'How are you going to stop him?' I asked.

I saw his lips quiver, while his eyes burnt with the light of resolution.

'Surely you do not mean,' I went on, 'that you hope to marry her?'

'I not only hope to,--I mean to,' he said.

I was silent for a few seconds. I did not want to hinder his recovery,

by saying anything which might cause him to despair, but the thing which

had been born in his mind seemed so senseless, so hopeless, that I felt

it would be cruel on my part to allow him to entertain such a mad feeling.

'Surely you have not considered the impossibility of such a thing,' I

said.

'Nothing's impossible,' he cried.

'But do you not see the insuperable barriers in the way?'

'I see the barriers, but they must be swept aside. Why, man!' and his

voice became stronger, 'when I awoke a few hours ago, and saw those two

doctor chaps, I was first of all bewildered, I could not understand.

Then it suddenly came to me where I was, in whose house I was staying,

and in a flash I realized everything. As I said, when I saw her first, I

despaired; but no man who believes in God should despair. I tell you,

the thought of it means life, health, strength, to me! I have something

great to live for. Why, think, man, think!'

'I am thinking hard,' I replied. 'I need hardly tell you, Edgecumbe,

that I am your friend, and that I wish you the best that you can hope

for. It seems cruel, too, after what you have gone through, to try to

destroy the thought which is evidently dear to you, but I must do it.'

'But I love her, man!' and his voice trembled as he spoke. 'When I saw

her standing in the doorway, as we drove up the other night, she was a

revelation to me,--she made all the world new. One look into her eyes

was like opening the gates of heaven. Do you realize what a pure soul

she has?--how beautiful she is? She is a child woman. She has all the

innocence, all the artlessness of a child of ten, and all the resolution,

and the foresight, and the daring of a woman. She seemed to me like a

being from another world, like one sent to tell me what life should be.

She made everything larger, grander, holier, and before I had been in her

presence five seconds I knew that I was hers for ever and for ever.'

'It is because she is so pure, and so innocent, that you should give up

all such thoughts at once,' I said.

'But why should I? Tell me that.'

'You will not think me harsh or unkind?'

'I shall not think anything wrong,' and he laughed as he spoke. 'I will

tell you why. Nothing can destroy my resolve.'

'My dear fellow,' I said, 'evidently you don't realize the situation.'

'Well, help me to realize it; tell me what you have in your mind.'

'First of all, a woman's love may not be won easily,--it may be she cares

for some one else.'

'I will make her love me!' he cried; 'she will not be able to help

herself. She will see that my love for her fills my whole being, and

that I live to serve her, protect her, worship her.'

'Many men have loved in vain,' I replied; 'but, assuming for the moment

that you could win her love, your hopes would be still as impossible as

ever.'

'Rule out the word impossible. But tell me why you believe it is so.'

'First of all, Lorna Bolivick is a young lady of position, she is a child

of an old family, and when she marries she will naturally marry into her

own class.'

'Naturally; but what of that? Am I not of--of her class?'

'Doubtless. But face facts. You have not a penny beyond your

pay;--would it be fair, would it be right of you, to go to such a girl as

she, reared as she has been, and offer her only poverty?'

'I will make a position,' he cried enthusiastically. 'I'm not a fool!'

'How? When?' I asked.

'For the moment I don't know how, or when,' he replied, 'but it shall be

done.'

'Then think again,' I went on, 'you could not marry her without her

parents' consent, and if they know your purposes they would close their

doors against you. Fancy Sir Thomas Bolivick allowing his daughter to

marry a man with only a subaltern's pay!'

'Number two,' he replied with a laugh; 'go on,'--and I could see that he

regarded my words as of no more weight than thistledown.

'Yes, that is number two,' I replied. 'Now to come to number three. Do

you think that you, alone, are strong enough to match yourself with your

rivals?'

'You mean Buller and Springfield? I have told you what I think about

Buller; as for Springfield, he's a bad man. Besides, if I am poor, is he

not poor, too? He's only a captain.'

'Buller tells me he's the heir to a peerage,' I replied, 'and that when

somebody dies he will come into pots of money. And whatever else you may

think about him, he is a strong man, capable and determined. If you are

right about him, and you think there's going to be a battle royal between

you two, you will have a dangerous enemy, an enemy who will stop at

nothing. But that is not all. The greatest difficulty has not yet been

mentioned.'

'What is that?'

I hesitated before replying. I felt I was going to be cruel, and yet I

could not help it.

'You have no right to ask any woman to be your wife,' I urged--'least of

all a woman whom you love as you say you love Lorna Bolivick.'

'Why?' and there was a tone of anxiety in his voice.

'Because you don't know who you are, or what you are. You are, I should

judge, a man thirty years of age. What your history has been you don't

know. Possibly you have a wife somewhere.'

I was sorry the moment I had uttered the words, for he gave a cry almost

amounting to agony.

'No, no,' he gasped, 'not that!'

'You don't know,' I said; 'the past is an utter blank to you; you have no

recollection of anything which happened before you lost your memory,

and----'

'No, no, not that, Luscombe. I am sure that if I ever married, if I ever

loved a woman, I should know it,--I should feel it instinctively.'

'I am not sure. You say you have no memory of your father or mother;

surely if you remembered anything you'd remember them? Now suppose,--of

course it is an almost impossible contingency, but suppose you won Lorna

Bolivick's consent to be your wife; suppose you obtained a position

sufficiently good for Sir Thomas and Lady Bolivick to consent to your

marrying her; and then suppose your memory came back, and the whole of

your past were made known to you, and you discovered that there was a

woman here in England, or somewhere else, whom you married years ago, and

whom you loved, and who had been grieving because of your loss? Can't

you see the situation?'

I could see I had impressed him. Instead of the light of resolution,

there was a haunting fear in his eyes.

'I had not thought of that,' he murmured. 'Of course it is not so,--I am

sure it is not so. Still, as you say, it would not be fair to submit her

to a suspicion of danger.'

'Then of course you give up the thought?'

'Oh, no,' he replied. 'Of course I must think it out, and I must meet

the situation; but I give up nothing--nothing.'

As I rose to leave him, McClure stood in the door of the bedroom and

beckoned to me.

'Springfield and Buller are downstairs,' he whispered to me; 'they have

come to lunch. Can you manage to get a chat with the fellow? It seems

horrible to have such suspicions, but----'

'Yes, I understand,' I replied, noting his hesitation.

'If what is in both our minds has any foundation in fact,' he went on,

'Edgecumbe should be warned. I hate talking like this, and it is just

horrible.'

'I know what you feel,' I said, 'but what can we do? As we both have to

admit, nothing can be proved, and it would be a crime to accuse an

innocent man of such a thing.'

'Yes, I know; but the more I have thought about the matter, the more I am

sure that--that--anyhow, get a chat with him. I must get back to

Plymouth soon, but before I go you and I must have a further talk. This

thing must be bottomed, man, must! I'll be down in a minute.'

I made my way toward the dining-room, forming plans of action as I did

so. I had by this time made up my mind concerning Springfield. Whether

he were guilty of what Colonel McClure had hinted at, I was not sure, but

a thousand things told me that he both feared and hated my friend. How

could I pierce his armour, and protect Edgecumbe at the same time?

When I entered the dining-room, he and Lorna Bolivick were talking

together. I watched their faces for a few seconds unheeded by them. I

do not know what he was saying to her, but she was listening to him

eagerly. In some way he had destroyed the instinctive feeling of

revulsion which he had created in her mind months before. She seemed

like one fascinated; he held her as though by a strong personality, a

strange fascination. There was no doubt in my mind, either, that

although he had come to Devonshire as the guest of young Buller, he was a

rival for Lorna Bolivick's hand. As much as such a man as he could love

a woman, he loved Lorna Bolivick, and meant to win her.

The Pomp of Yesterday · 第 22 / 42 章