After the door had shut behind Alfred Head, Anna Bauer sat on, quite
motionless, awhile. What mind was left to her, after the terrifying and
agonising interview she had just had, was absorbed in the statement made
to her concerning Jervis Blake.
She remembered, with blinding clearness, the afternoon that Rose had
come into her kitchen to say in a quiet, toneless voice, "They think,
Anna, that they will have to take off his foot." She saw, as clearly as
if her nursling were there in this whitewashed little cell, the look of
desolate, dry-eyed anguish which had filled Rose's face.
But that false quietude had only lasted a few moments, for, in response
to her poor old Anna's exclamation of horror and of sympathy, Rose Otway
had flung herself into her nurse's arms, and had lain there shivering
and crying till the sound of the front door opening to admit her mother
had forced her to control herself.
Anna's mind travelled wearily on, guided by reproachful memory through a
maze of painful recollections. Once more she stood watching the strange
marriage ceremony--trying hard, aye, and succeeding, to obey Sir
Jacques's strict injunction. More than one of those present had glanced
over at her, Anna, very kindly during that trying half-hour. How would
they then have looked at her if they had known what she knew now?
She lived again as in long drawn-out throbs of pain the piteous days
which had followed Mr. Blake's operation.
Rose had not allowed herself one word of fret or of repining; but on
three different nights during that first week, she had got out of bed
and wandered about the house, till Anna, hearing the quiet, stuffless
sounds of bare feet, had come out, and leading the girl into the still
warm kitchen, had comforted her.
It was Anna who had spoken to Sir Jacques, and suggested the sleeping
draught which had finally broken that evil waking spell--Anna who, far
more than Rose's own mother, had sustained and heartened the poor child
during those dreadful days of reaction which followed on the brave front
she had shown at the crisis of the operation.
And now Anna had to face the horrible fact that it was she who had
brought this dreadful suffering, this--this lifelong misfortune, on the
being she loved more than she had ever loved anything in the world. If
this was true, and in her heart she knew it to be true, then she did
indeed deserve to hang. A shameful death would be nothing in comparison
to the agony of fearing that her darling might come to learn the truth.
* * * * *
The door of the cell suddenly opened, and a man came in, carrying a tray
in his hands. On it were a jug of coffee, some milk, sugar, bread and
butter, and a plateful of cold meat.
He put it down by the old woman's side. "Look here!" he said. "Your
lady, Mrs. Guthrie as she is now, thought you'd rather have coffee than
tea--so we've managed to get some for you."
And, as Anna burst into loud sobs, "There, there!" he said
good-naturedly. "I daresay you'll be all right--don't you be worrying
yourself." He lowered his voice: "Though there are some as says that
what they found in your back kitchen this morning was enough to have
blown up all Witanbury sky high! Quite a good few don't think you knew
anything about it--and if you didn't, you've nothing to fear. You'll be
treated quite fair; so now you sit up, and make a good supper!"
She stared at him without speaking, and he went on: "You won't be having
this sort of grub in Darneford Gaol, you know!" As she again looked at
him with no understanding, he added by way of explanation: "After you've
been charged to-morrow, it's there they'll send you, I expect, to wait
for the Assizes."
"So?" she said stupidly.
"You just sit up and enjoy your supper! You needn't hurry over it. I
shan't be this way again for an hour or so." And then he went out and
shut the door.
For almost the first time in her life, Anna Bauer did not feel as if she
wanted to eat good food set before her. But she poured out a cup of
coffee, and drank it just as it was, black and bitter, without putting
either milk or sugar to it.
Then she stood up. The coffee had revived her, cleared her brain, and
she looked about her with awakened, keener perceptions.
It was beginning to get dark, but it was a fine evening, and there was
still light enough to see by. She looked up consideringly at the
old-fashioned iron gas bracket, placed in the middle of the ceiling,
just above the wooden chair on which her gracious lady had sat during
the last part of their conversation.
Anna took from the bench where she had been sitting the crochet in which
she had been interrupted.
She had lately been happily engaged in making a beautiful band of
crochet lace which was destined to serve as trimming for Mrs. Jervis
Blake's dressing-table. The band was now very nearly finished; there
were over three yards of it done. Worked in the best and strongest linen
thread, it was the kind of thing which would last, even if it were
cleaned very frequently, for years and years, and which would grow finer
with cleaning.
The band was neatly rolled up and pinned, to keep it clean and nice; but
now Anna slowly unpinned and unrolled it.
Yes, it was a beautiful piece of work; rather coarser than what she was
accustomed to do, but then she knew that Miss Rose preferred the coarser
to the very fine crochet.
She tested a length of it with a sharp pull, and the result was
wonderful--from her point of view most gratifying! It hardly gave at
all. She remembered how ill her mistress had succeeded when she, Anna,
had tried to teach her to do this kind of work some sixteen to seventeen
years ago. After a very little while Mrs. Otway had given up trying to
do it, knowing that she could never rival her good old Anna. Mrs.
Otway's lace had been so rough, so uneven; a tiny pull, and it became
all stringy and out of shape.
Yes, whatever strain were put on this band, it would surely
recover--recover, that is, if it were dealt with as she, Anna, would
deal with such a piece of work. It would have to be damped and
stretched out on a piece of oiled silk, and each point fastened down
with a pin. Then an almost cold iron would have to be passed over it,
with a piece of clean flannel in between....