DICK RELIEVES GRACIE'S FEELING BY ONE EXPRESSIVE
WORD.
"At last!" said Dick. "At last a ray of light! What's the time?" He
looked at a clock in a baker's shop. "Five minutes past ten. Ought I
to go to her at once? No, I think not. Had she wanted me earlier she
would have said, 'Come to me the moment you get this letter.' Four
long hours to wait. What am I to do with myself till two o'clock?"
With the idea of making time fly faster he began to count his steps--
ten, twenty, thirty, one hundred, two hundred, three hundred. He made
a calculation. A step a second, three hundred steps three hundred
seconds, five minutes, and five minutes more employed in thought and
calculation. Ten minutes gone, ten minutes nearer to Florence. He came
to another shop with a clock in it; it marked eight minutes past ten.
He had done all this in three minutes. He had walked too quickly, and
was fast working himself up to fever heat. "Keep cool, my lad," he
muttered; "you'll mar instead of mend if you don't keep cool."
But the events of the last few hours, with their tragic issues,
pressed so heavily upon him that he found it no easy matter to keep
cool. Much easier was it to conjure up the feelings of a murderer,
who, oppressed with the weight of his undiscovered crime, fancies he
discerns in every face the knowledge of his guilt--turning his head
over his shoulder every minute to see if he was being dogged--starting
at familiar sounds, especially at the sound of bells and clocks
striking the hour, every peal proclaiming to all the world that a
Murderer was passing that way--tortured by the devilish temptation to
leap into the middle of the road, and flinging up his arms to scream
aloud, "Stop, you grinning fools! _I did it!_" Then running to a
bridge, with a mob at his heels, and flinging himself into the river.
For some minutes Dick was under a spell of this nature. He looked
nervously at the head-lines on the newspaper bills, and listened for
the shouting of the newsboys, "Murder! Murder! Frightful Murder in
Catchpole Square!" But no such words reached his ears. Passing the
shop in which he had purchased the rope and grapnel, he was almost
prepared to see the dirty-faced old man, in his list slippers and
greasy skull cap, run out and cry, "Stop that man! Ask him what he did
with the rope he bought of me last night. Stop him--stop him!"
"I am losing my senses," said Dick, "indulging in these fancies. I
shall be deluding myself presently into the belief that it was I who
murdered Samuel Boyd. I'll go and see little Gracie. I may get some
news of Abel Death."
Gracie was in bed, and Mrs. Death was in the adjoining room, preparing
a linseed poultice for her. She looked into Dick's face, and dropped
her eyes.
"You've heard nothing, sir?"
"Nothing," he replied. "I have come to see Gracie. Is she any better?"
"She's no worse, sir," said Mrs. Death, with a sigh, "but I can hardly
keep her in bed, and the trouble I have to put a poultice on her is
beyond description; I have almost to go on my bended knees. She's the
dearest child, sir; she never thinks of herself."
Upon Dick's entrance Gracie sat up in bed and put out her hand; it was
hot and clammy, and Dick patted it kindly, and held it in his. The
faces of the other children, who were all sitting on the floor,
playing shop with stones and broken pieces of crockery, became
illumined at sight of Dick.
"It's good of you to come," said Gracie. "I thought you would. You
mustn't mind my coughing a bit. I'm ever so much better, but mother
_will_ worry about me. I want to whisper to you. Do you think father's
dead?"
"No, Gracie," he said, to comfort her. "I don't think that."
"Then what's keeping him away? Is he afraid of somebody? Father never
did anything wrong. We'll look for him together when I'm well. Shall
we?"
"Yes, Gracie; and so that you may get well soon and find him, you
mustn't sit up in bed." He put her head gently on the hard pillow, and
arranged the scanty coverings over her. She made no resistance, but
kept her eyes upon him, gravely and steadily.
"I've been dreaming of you all night long," she said.
"Now, what do _you_ want?" said Dick to Connie, who was standing at
his knee.
"Here's two ounces of tea," said Connie, giving him a stone, "and some
scrag of mutton" (giving him another), "and a silk dress" (giving him
another), "and a pound of sugar, and a penn'orth of brandy balls, and
a pair of boots, and four pounds of potatoes, and a pint of beer"--all
represented by stones, which Dick accepted with an air of great
enjoyment. "If you haven't got any money we'll trust you." Having
effected which sale upon these unbusinesslike conditions, the child
trotted back to her brothers and sisters, who put their heads together
and whispered.
Mrs. Death entered with the poultice, and was about to put it on, when
a soft tapping was heard on the passage door. Before any one could
answer it the handle was turned and Dr. Vinsen presented himself.
Gracie lay back in bed, and clutched Dick's hand tight.
As Dr. Vinsen glanced around the room, Dick thought his eyes were
smaller and sleepier than on the first occasion they had met; his
heavy white lids hung low, and partially veiled them; but this aspect
of languor was more than counterbalanced by the fringe of yellow
hair round his bald head, which gave him a luminous, not to say a
saint-like appearance.
"Ah, Mr. Dick Remington," he said, in the pleasantest of voices, "good
morning, _good_ morning. Are you also here on a mission of kindness to
our little patient--our lit-tle pa-tient? Permit me." He disengaged
the clammy hand which clasped Dick's, and timed Gracie's pulse by his
large gold watch, at which the children stared in awe. "Rather
feverish, but an improvement. What do you say? It's nothing to
worry about? Then we'll not worry about it. Why should we? Life
brings a peck of worries in its train--why should we make the peck
overflow--o-ver-flow?" With his head on one side, like a large
yellow-fringed bird, he smilingly invited an opinion from Dick.
"Why, indeed?" said Dick.
"True--true. Why?" As though not he, but Dick, had made the inquiry.
"We are getting along nicely, Mrs. Death, I am happy to say. In a
short time we shall have our little patient running about again,
playing with her companions, as well as ever. The troubles of
children, eh, Mr. Remington?"
"Yes," said Dick, vaguely.
"A private word in your ear. Have we heard from our missing friend?"
"I believe not," replied Dick.
"Sad--sad--sad! But there is time--there is always time; and
hope--there is always hope. She bears up."
"What else can she do? Knocking your head against a stone wall is not
an agreeable diversion."
"_Your_ head, my young friend, _your_ head," said Dr. Vinsen,
jocosely. Then turning to Mrs. Death, "What is this? A linseed
poultice? Very proper. Let it be very hot. Our little patient makes a
face. If she never has a worse trouble than a linseed poultice she is
to be envied. Here is a bottle of medicine--a tablespoonful every four
hours. I will call again to-morrow. You will not shut your door
against me, eh?"
"No, indeed, sir. We don't shut the door against our best friends."
"So kind of you to say so." He paused to contemplate the group of
children on the floor. "This"--with a comprehensive wave of his hand,
so as to take in the whole of the room--"is a scene for an artist, and
on the walls of the Academy would attract attention, even from the
aristocracy."
"That wouldn't help them much," observed Dick.
"I don't know--I really don't know. It enlarges the scope, widens the
sympathies--wi-dens the sym-pa-thies. Be happy, children, be happy."
He went through the ceremony of shaking hands with Dick and Mrs.
Death, and with an amiable smile, in which his halo seemed to take
part, left the room.
"Dick," whispered Gracie. He bent towards her. "May I call you Dick?"
"Yes, Gracie."
"Wait a bit till my cough's over." She almost choked herself in her
effort to finish the sentence before the cough commenced. It lasted a
long time, but Dick, supporting her in his arms, was glad to hear that
it was looser. Then she whispered to him again, "Don't let 'em hear
us, Dick. Say Damn!"
"Damn!" said Dick, without the least hesitation.
She sank back and smiled. It was the first time Dick had seen her
smile, and it brought a wonderful light into her sallow face. Whatever
may have been the reason for the singular request, she was evidently
much relieved.