HOW GEOFFREY RAVENSLEE CAME OUT OF THE DARK
She was knitting; and opening sleepy eyes he watched drowsily and
wondered what it might be and was minded to enquire, but sighed instead
and fell asleep again.
She was knitting; knitting something in red wool, and opening his eyes
again, he lay watching awhile and pondered dreamily as to what it could
be she wrought at so busily, for the wool was so very red and so
extremely woolly.
Her chin was set at an angle somewhat grim, she was sitting very
upright in her chair and, though scrupulously hidden from sight, her
elbows--truly how portentous were the undisguisable points of those
elbows! And she was knitting fiercely in wool that was remarkably red
and woolly.
"Pray what is it, Mrs. Trapes?" A feeble whisper, but, at the sound,
faint though it was, Mrs. Trapes started, half rose from her chair, sank
down again heavily and letting fall her knitting, stared at the invalid.
"Land sakes, alive!" she gasped.
"Now you've dropped it!" said Ravenslee, his voice a little stronger.
"Oh, dear beloved land o' my fathers--it's come!" she exclaimed,
clasping her hands, "the Lord be praised for evermore, it's come!"
"What has?"
"The turn! And you've took it! Doctor Dennison says last night as you'd
take it soon one way or t' other. But all night long while they waited
and watched here, you've laid so pale an' still as a corp'. An' now,
while I'm a-settin' here, you go an' take th' turn so sudden as fair
takes my breath away, Lord be praised! I mean--I mean--oh, I guess I'll
go wake the doctor."
"But you haven't told me what it is," said Ravenslee drowsily.
"What what is?"
"That very peculiar--woolly thing."
"This?" said Mrs. Trapes, picking up the object in question, "this is my
knittin'. Doctor said t' call him th' moment th' turn came--" Her voice
seemed to sink to a slumberous murmur as, having smoothed his pillow,
she crossed the room and very softly closed the door behind her;
wherefore Ravenslee blinked sleepily at the door until its panels seemed
slowly to become confused and merge one into another, changing gradually
to a cloud, soft, billowy, and ever growing until it had engulfed him
altogether, and he sank down and down into unknown deeps of
forgetfulness and blessed quietude.
* * * * *
She was knitting; knitting a shapeless something in red wool, and
Ravenslee thought he had never known her elbows more threatening of
aspect nor seen wool quite so red and woolly; wherefore he presently
spoke, and his voice was no longer a feeble croak.
"Pray what is it, Mrs. Trapes?"
Mrs. Trapes jumped.
"Well, for th' love o' heaven!" she exclaimed, and down fell her
knitting.
"Now you've dropped it!" said Ravenslee a little petulantly.
"Your very--identical--words!" said Mrs. Trapes in awed tones. "Nacher
sure 'moves in a mysterious way her wonders to perform'!"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean as them was the identical words as you addressed to me when you
took th' turn two days ago!"
"Two days!" exclaimed Ravenslee, staring.
"Ever since you did take the turn two days ago, you've laid there so
quiet an' peaceful--no more dreams an' ravin'--you've jest laid there
'wrapped in infant slumbers pure an' light', Mr. Geoffrey--Ravenslee,
I mean."
"Why then, it's about time I got up. If you'll kindly--er--retire and
send Patterson, I'll get dressed."
"Dressed?" echoed Mrs. Trapes, hollow-voiced and grim. "Get up? Lord,
Mr. Geoffrey!"
"Certainly. Why not?"
"What, you--you as is only jest out o' the valley o' th' shadder! You
as we've all give up for dead over an' over! You get up? Lord, Mr.
Geoffrey--I mean Ravenslee!"
"Oh," said Ravenslee, knitting his dark brows thoughtfully, "have I been
sick long?"
"Four weeks."
"Weeks!" he exclaimed, staring incredulously.
"Four weeks an' a bit! For four weary, woeful weeks you've been layin'
here with death hoverin' over you, Mr. Geoffrey. For four long weeks
we've been waitin' for ye t' draw your las' breath, Mr. Ravenslee. For
four 'eart-rendin' weeks your servants has been carryin' on below stairs
an' robbin' you somethin' shameful."
"My servants? Oh, yes, they generally do. But tell me--"
"The amount o' food as they consoom constant! The waste! The
extravagance! Th' beer an' wine an' sperrits they swaller! Them is sure
the thirstiest menials ever I heard tell of! An' the butler--such airs,
such a appetite! An' sherry an' bitters t' make it worse! Lord, Mr.
Geoffrey, your servants sure is a ravenin' horde!"
"Don't be too hard on 'em, Mrs. Trapes," he answered gravely, "I'm
afraid I've neglected them quite a good deal. But it's a woman's hand
they need over them."
"It's a pleeceman's club they need on 'em--frequent! I'd learn 'em
different, I guess--"
"So you shall, Mrs. Trapes, if you will. You are precisely the kind of
housekeeper I need."
"What--me?"
"You, Mrs. Trapes. A lonely bachelor needs some one to--er take care of
his servants for him, to see they don't overeat themselves too often;
or--er--strain themselves spring-cleaning out of season--or--"
"But you got a wife t' do all that for you. I guess Hermy'll know how to
manage."
"Hermione!" said Ravenslee, starting, "wife? Am I really--married?"
"Sure! Didn't she go an' let you wed her when we all thought you was
dyin'?"
"Oh, did she?" said he very gently. "Why then, it--it wasn't all a
dream?"
"Mr. Geoffrey, Hermy's been Mrs. Ravenslee, your lawful wedded wife,
just exactly four weeks."
Ravenslee stared up at the ceiling, dreamy-eyed.
"Good heavens!" he murmured. "I thought I'd only dreamed it."
"Hermy's watched over you night an' day a'most--like th' guardian angel
she is--prayin' f' you, workin' f' you, fightin' death away from you.
Oh, I guess it's her fault as you're alive this day! Anyway, her an'
you's man an' wife till death do you part."
"But death--hasn't, you see."
"An' death sure ain't goin' to--yet."
"No, I'm--I'm very much alive still, it seems."
"You sure are, glory be t' th' Lord of Hosts to who I have also
petitioned frequent on your behoof. An' now I'll call th' doctor."
"No, no--not Dennison; let me see her first. Can't I speak to Hermione
first, Mrs. Trapes?"
"She was up with you all las' night, sweet lamb! It'd be a shame to wake
her--"
"So it would--don't disturb her."
"But I guess she'd never forgive me if I didn't wake her. So if you'll
promise t' be good--"
"I will!"
"An' not go gettin' all worked up an' excited?"
"I will not!"
"Why then, perhaps ten minutes wouldn't hurt."
"God bless you, Mrs. Trapes!"
Left alone, he tried to sit up, and finding this strangely difficult,
examined his hands and arms, scowling to find himself so weak. Then he
clapped hand to bony jaw and was shocked to feel thereon a growth of
ragged beard, and then--she was before him. Fresh from her slumbers she
came, wrapped in a scanty kimono whose thin, clinging folds revealed
more of her shapely beauty than he had ever seen as she hurried across
the wide chamber.
"Hermione," he said, and reached out his hands to her. And his voice
was no longer the feeble echo it had been; the hand that clasped hers,
though still thin and weak, thrilled her anew with its masterful touch.
Because of all this, her words of tender greeting remained unspoken, the
arms which had been eager to cradle his helplessness crossed themselves
on her bosom; she became aware of naked ankles and of bare feet thrust
into bedroom slippers and needs must hide them, and the better to do so,
sank upon the bed, her feet tucked under her. So she sat, just beyond
his reach, and, conscious of scanty draperies, shook her shining hair
about her, veiling herself in its glory.
"Hermione," he said unsteadily, "I--I never knew quite how beautiful you
were--and we--we are married, it seems!"
"Yes," she said softly.
"And now I'm--I'm afraid I'm going to--live!"
"Afraid?"
"It--it almost seems as though I had married you under false pretences,
doesn't it? But the doctors and everybody were so certain I was to die
that I thought so too. And now--I'm going to live, it seems."
She was silent, and slowly his hand went out to her again, and slowly
hers went to meet it, but though her fingers clasped and twined,
thrilling in mute passion to his touch, she came no nearer, but watched
him from the shadow of her hair with great troubled eyes.
"Dear," he said, very humbly, "you do--love me still, don't you?"
"More than ever."
"Then you're not--sorry to be my wife?"
"No--ah, no, no!" she whispered, "never that!"
"Then, dear, won't you--will you kiss me?" Seeing she hesitated, he
sank back on his pillow and laughed a little ruefully. "I forgot these
confounded whiskers--I must look an unholy object. Patterson shall shave
me, and then perhaps--"
But sudden and warm and soft her arms were about him, and her eyes,
troubled no longer, gazed into his, brimful of yearning tenderness.
"Oh, my dear, my dear," she murmured, quick and passionate, "as if I
should ever care how you looked as long as you were--just you. My dear,
my dear, you have come back to me from the very gates of death because
I--I--"
"Because you nursed me so tenderly!"
"Ah, no, there were others to do that--no, God gave you back to me
because He is merciful, and because I love you--want you--need you so
much!"
"Oh, my Hermione--Kiss me!"
A knock at the door, and, quick-breathing, she drew from him as the
voice of Mrs. Trapes reached them.
"Ten minutes is up!" she announced as she entered, "and Hermy, if you
don't want th' doctor t' see you in your nightdress an' that--"
"Ann!" gasped Hermione, drawing the folds of her kimono about her.
"Anyway, he's coming."
Up sprang Hermione, in doing which she lost a slipper.
"Give it me!" she pleaded, for Ravenslee had caught it up.
"Dear, you have one--be content," he answered. "And surely I may kiss
my wife's slipper without you having to blush so--so deliciously,
Hermione?"
"It's so--old and shabby!" said she faintly.
"That's why I kiss it."
"An' here comes th' doctor!" said Mrs. Trapes. Whereat Hermione
incontinent fled away, white foot agleam. Then Ravenslee, having kissed
the little slipper quite brazenly under Mrs. Trapes's staring eyes,
tucked it beneath his pillow.
"Why, Mr. Geoffrey!" said Mrs. Trapes.