By my advice, then, Linny said nothing to Hallett about where she was
going, and as I had stayed at home from the works on purpose, we started
in pretty good time for Westmouth Street, my companion's flushed cheeks
making her look extremely bright and pretty. She was terribly nervous
though, and when we neared the door I feared that she would not muster
up courage enough to enter.
"I feel as if I dare not meet her, Antony," she faltered.
"What nonsense!" I said, smiling. "Why, she is gentleness and
tenderness itself. Come, be a woman."
"It is not that," she whispered. "There is so much more behind. Take
me back, Antony. Why does she want to see me?"
"I don't know," I replied; "but you may be sure that it is for some good
purpose."
"Do--do you think she will be angry with me--about--about, you know whom
I mean? Do you think it is to reproach me?"
"I am sure it is not, Linny. Come, come, make an effort. I don't know,
but I feel sure it is to try and help poor Hallett."
"Do you think so?" she faltered, "or is this only to persuade me to go
on? Oh, Antony, you cannot think how my heart beats with dread. I am
afraid of this Miss Carr, and feel as if I ought to hate her."
"Come along, you foolish girl," I said; and, yielding to me, I led her
up to the door, when we were admitted, and at once ushered into the
drawing-room.
I did not at first see Miss Carr, but the door had hardly closed before
I heard the rustle of her dress, and the next moment Linny was folded in
her arms, and returning the embrace.
I stood for a moment listening to Linny's passionate sobs, and then
stole softly away, going down into the dining-room to stand gazing out
of the window, but seeing nothing of the passers-by, only in imagination
the scene upstairs, and wondering why Miss Carr had sent for Linny.
I was kept in doubt for quite an hour, and then the servant came and
asked me to step upstairs, where, to my surprise, I found Miss Carr
dressed for going out.
She held out her hand to me as I entered, and pressed mine.
"Don't speak to me, Antony," she whispered, in a broken voice. "I am
going home with Linny Hallett."
"You--going home--with--"
The rest died on my lips as I saw her draw down her veil to hide her
convulsed face, and then, without a word, she rang the bell, the door
was opened for us, and, feeling like one in a dream, I walked in silence
by their side to the house in Great Ormond Street, where, as I placed my
latchkey in the door, it was snatched open, and Mary, with her face red
with weeping, stood there.
"Oh, Miss Linny! Oh, Master Antony!" she sobbed, "I'm so glad you've
come. The doctor sent me out of the room, and I've been waiting for
you."
"Is my brother worse?" sobbed Linny hysterically.
"Yes, yes, my dear, I'm--I'm afraid so;" and as she spoke, a hand
clutched mine, and I heard Miss Carr moan:
"God help me! Am I too late?"
Linny was already half up the first flight, when Miss Carr whispered to
me in agonised tones:
"Take me to him, Antony, quick. This is no time for pride and shame."
With my heart beating painfully, I led her upstairs, and, as we reached
the first floor, we met the doctor coming down.
I felt Miss Carr's hand pressing mine convulsively, and I spoke, my
voice sounding hoarse and strange.
"Is he worse, doctor?"
"I'm afraid he cannot last many hours longer," he said. "I have done
all I can, but I have a patient a few streets off whom I must see, and I
will return in a short time. He must not be left."
"Shall I go in and try to prepare him for your coming?" I whispered to
Miss Carr, as we stood outside his door.
"No, no!" she cried. "Take me to him at once, or I cannot bear it.
Don't speak to me, Antony. Don't let anybody speak to me; but you must
not leave me for a moment."
Linny was at the door, standing with the handle in her hand, but she
drew back as we approached, and then ran sobbing into the next room,
where Mrs Hallett was sitting helpless and alone.
I obeyed Miss Carr, leading her quickly inside, and closing the door,
where she stood for a moment with one hand pressing her breast; then she
hastily tore off bonnet and veil, gazing at the pale face and great
dreamy eyes fixed wistfully upon the window.
The noise of our entry, slight as it was, seemed to rouse him, for he
turned his gaze heavily from the light towards where we stood, and I saw
that he held in his thin wasted hand a little grey kid glove, the glove
we had found in Epping Forest that happy day when we met the sisters in
our wait.
But that was forgotten in the change I saw come over the poor fellow's
face. It seemed to light up; the dull dreamy eyes dilated; a look of
dread, of wonder, or joy seemed to come into them, and then he seemed to
make an effort, and stared wildly round the room, but only to gaze at
Miss Carr again as she stood with her hands half raised in a beseeching
way, till, with a wild cry, his head seemed to fall back and he lay
without motion.
I heard steps outside, but I darted to the door, and stopped Linny and
Mary from entering, hardly knowing what I did, as Miss Carr took a step
or two forward, and threw herself upon her knees by the bed, dinging to
his hands, placing one arm beneath the helpless head, and sobbing and
moaning passionately.
"I have killed him--I have killed him! and I came that he might live.
Stephen, my love, my hero, speak to me--speak to me! God of heaven,
spare him to me, or let me die?"
I was one moment about to summon help, the next prepared to defend the
door against all comers, and again the next ready to stop my ears and
flee from the room. But she had bidden me stay, and not leave her, and
I felt it a painful duty to be her companion at such a time. So there I
stayed, throwing myself in a chair by the door, my head bent down,
seeming to see all, to identify every act, but with my face buried in my
hands, though hearing every impassioned word.
"No," I heard him say softly; "no: such words as those would have
brought me from the grave. But why--why did you come?"
"I could bear it no longer," she moaned. "I have fought against it till
my life has been one long agony. I have felt that my place was here--at
your side--that my words, my prayers would make you live; and yet I have
stayed away, letting my pride--my fear of the world--dictate, when my
heart told me that you loved me and were almost dying for my sake."
"Loved you!" he whispered faintly; "loved you--Miriam, I dare not say
how much!"
His voice was the merest whisper, and in my dread I started up, and
approached them, fearing the worst; but there was such a smile of peace
and restfulness upon his lips as Miss Carr bent over him, that I dared
not interrupt them, the feeling being upon me that if he was to die it
would be better so.
There was a long silence then, one which he broke at last.
"Why did you come?" he said.
The words seemed to electrify her, and she raised her head to gaze on
his face.
"Why did I come?" she whispered; "because they told me you were dying,
and I could bear it no longer. I came to tell you of my love, of the
love I have fought against so long, but only to make it grow. To tell
you, my poor brave hero, that the world is nothing to us, and that we
must be estranged no more. Stephen, I love you with all my soul, and
you must live--live to call me wife--live to protect me, for I want your
help and your brave right hand to be my defence. This is unwomanly--
shameless, if you will--but do you think I have not known your love for
me, and the true brave fight that you have made? Has not my heart
shared your every hope, and sorrowed with you when you have failed?
And, poor weak fool that I have been, have I not stood aloof, saying
that you should come to me, and yet worshipped you--reverenced you the
more for your honour and your pride? But that is all past now. It is
not too late. Live for me, Stephen, my own brave martyr, and let the
past be one long sad dream: for I love you, I love you, God only knows
how well!" She hid her burning, agitated face in his breast, and his
two thin hands tremblingly and slowly rose to clasp her head; and there
the white fingers lay motionless in the rich, dark hair.
There was again a pause, which he was the first to break, and his voice
was still but a whisper, as he muttered something that I did not hear,
though I gathered it from her smothered reply.
"Oh, no, no: let there be an end to that!" she sobbed. "Money?
Fortune? Why should that keep us apart, when it might help you in your
gallant fight? Let me be your help and stay. Stephen--Stephen!" she
wailed piteously, "have I not asked you--I, a woman--to make me your
wife?"
"Yes," he said softly, and I heard him sigh; "but it cannot be--it
cannot be."
"What?" she cried passionately, as she half-started from him, but clung
to him still; "now that I have conquered my wretched, miserable pride,
will you raise up another barrier between us?"
"Oh, hush, hush!" he whispered; "you are opening to me the gates of a
worldly heaven, but I dare not enter in."
"Then I have done nothing," she wailed, as she seemed to crouch there
now in shame and confusion by his bed. "Stephen, you humble me in the
dust; my shameless declaration--my appeal--do I not ask you to take me--
pray you to make me your wife? Oh, what am I saying?" she cried
passionately; "it is too late--too late!"
"No," he panted; and his words seemed to come each with a greater
effort, "not--too late--your words--have--given--me life. Miriam--
come--hold me in your arms, and I shall stay. A little while ago I felt
that all was past, but now, strength seems to come--we must wait--I
shall conquer yet--give me strength to fight--to strive--wait for me,
darling--I'll win you yet, and--God of heaven! hear her prayer--and let
me--ah--"
"Quick, Miss Carr, he has fainted," I whispered, as his head sank back.
"Let me give him this."
His face was so ghastly that I thought he had passed away; but, without
waiting to pour it out in a glass, I hastily trickled some of the strong
stimulant medicine he was taking between his lips, and as Miss Carr,
with agonised face, knelt beside him, holding his hand, there was a
quiver in his eyelids, and a faint pressure of the hand that held his.
The signs were slight, but they told us that he had but fainted, and
when, at last, he re-opened his eyes, they rested upon Miss Carr with
such a look of rest and joy, that it was impossible to extinguish the
hope that he might yet recover.
He was too weak to speak, for the interview had been so powerful a shock
to his system, that it was quite possible for the change we saw in his
face to be but the precursor of one greater, so that it was with a sense
of relief that I heard the doctor's step once more upon the stairs, and
Mary's knock at the door.
I offered Miss Carr my hand to take her into the next room, and as if
waking out of a dream, she hastily rose and smoothed back her hair, but
only to bend down over the sufferer, and whisper a few words, to which
he replied with a yearning look that seemed to bring a sensation of
choking to my throat.
The doctor passed us on his way in, and I led Miss Carr into the front
room, where Linny was sobbing on the couch, and Mrs Hallett was sitting
back, very white and thin, in her chair.
As we entered Linny started up, and in response to Miss Carr's extended
hands, threw her arms round her neck, and kissed her passionately.
"Dear sister!" I heard Miss Carr murmur; and then she turned from
Linny, who left her and glanced at me.
"Mrs Hallett," I said simply, "this is Miss Carr."
I hardly knew what I said, for Miriam was so changed. There was a look
of tenderness in her eyes, and a sweet smile just dawning upon her lip
as she advanced towards the invalid's chair, and bent down to kiss her;
but with a passionate look of jealousy and dislike, Hallett's mother
shrank from her.
"Don't touch me!" she cried. "I knew that you were here, but I could
not leave my chair to curse you. Murderess, you have killed him! You
are the woman who has blasted my poor boy's life!"
A piteous look of horror came into Miss Carr's face, and she sank upon
her knees by the great cushioned chair.
"Oh, no, no!" she said piteously. "Do not accuse me. You do not--you
cannot know."
"Know!" cried Mrs Hallett, whiter than ever with the feeling of dislike
and passion that animated her; "do I not know how you have robbed me of
my poor dying boy's love; how you have come between us, and filled his
head with foolish notions to invent--to make money--for you?"
"Oh, Mrs Hallett, for shame!--for shame!" I exclaimed indignantly.
"Silence, boy!" she cried, looking at me vindictively. "Do you think I
do not know all because I sit helpless here? You, too, have helped to
encourage him in his madness, when he might have been a professional man
by now. I know all, little as you think it, even how you, and this
woman, too, fought against me. That child might have been the wife of a
good man now, only that he was this wretched creature's lover."
"Mother," cried Linny passionately, "are you mad? How dare you say such
things!"
"That's well," she cried. "You turn against me now. My boy is dying:
you have killed him amongst you, and the same grave will hold us both."
"Mrs Hallett," said Miss Carr, in her low, sweet voice; and the flush
of pride that had come for a few moments into her face faded out,
leaving nothing but resignation there, as she crouched there upon her
knees by the invalid's chair, "you do not know me, or you would not
speak to me like this. Don't turn from me," she said, taking One of the
poor weak woman's trembling hands.
"Out of my sight, wretch!" she cried. "Your handsome face fascinated
him; your pride has killed him! and you have come to triumph in your
work."
"No, no, no," sobbed Miss Carr in a broken voice, "do not condemn me
unheard; I have come to tell him how I love him. Mother, dear mother,"
she cried, "be pitiful to me, and join your prayers to mine that he may
live."
Poor weak suffering Mrs Hallett's face changed; her lips quivered, her
menacing hands trembled, and with a low moaning wail she bent down,
clasping Miriam to her breast, sobbing aloud as she rocked herself to
and fro, while Miriam clung to her, caressing the thin worn face, and
drawing herself closer and closer in a tight embrace.
How long this lasted I cannot tell, but it was interrupted by the
entrance of the doctor, who came in very softly.
"He is in a very critical state," he said in answer to the inquiring
eyes of all. "Hush, my good woman, you must try and be firm," he said
parenthetically to Mary, who was trying hard to smother her sobs in her
apron. "A nurse ought to have no feelings--I mean no sympathies. As I
said," he continued, "our patient is in a very critical state, but he
has now sunk into a very restful sleep. There is an access of strength
in the pulse that, however, may only be due to excitement, but your
visit, ma'am," he continued to Miss Carr, "seems to have wrought a
change--mind," he added hastily, "I don't say for the better, but there
is a decided change. I will come in again in a couple of hours or so;
in the meantime, let some one sit by his bed ready to give him the
stimulant the instant he wakes, but sleep may now mean life."
The doctor went softly away, and as he closed the door, Miss Carr knelt
down once more by Mrs Hallett's chair, holding up her face, and the
poor invalid hung back for a moment, and then kissed her passionately.
"God forgive me!" she wailed. "I did not indeed know you, but you have
robbed me of my poor boy's love."
"No, no," whispered Miss Carr softly. "No, no, dear mother, we will
love you more and more."
Miriam Carr's place was by the sick man's pillow all that afternoon and
evening, and right through the weary night. I had been to Westmouth
Street to say that she might not return, and at her wish had brought
back from Harley Street one of the most eminent men in the profession,
who held a consultation with Hallett's doctor.
The great man endorsed all that had been done, and sent joy into every
breast as he said that the crisis was past, but that on no account was
the patient to be roused.
And all that night he slept, and on and on till about eight o'clock the
next morning, Miss Carr never once leaving his side, or ceasing to watch
with sleepless eyes for the slightest change.
I had gone softly into the room the next morning, just as he uttered a
low sigh and opened his eyes.
"Ah, Antony," he said in a low whisper, "I have had such a happy, happy
dream! I dreamed that--Oh, God, I thank Thee--it was true!"
For just then there was a slight movement by his pillow, and the next
moment his poor weary head was resting upon Miriam's breast.