At the time when the mind is oppressed by a long-gathering cloud of
passionate yet scarcely defined anxiety, the awakening crash of an
event, even of an event tragic in its consequences, is a relief. This
miserable letter, therefore, exposing as it did in unmistakable terms
Fabian's infidelity, shook me free of the morbid imaginings and
unwholesome yearnings to which I had lately been a prey, and set me
the more worthy task of devising some means of helping both my friends
out of the deadlock to which I myself had unwittingly helped them to
come.
For the first time I was sorry for Fabian. A serious fault committed
by a person whom accidents of birth or circumstance have brought near
to one's self sets one thinking of one's own 'near shaves,' and after
that the tide of mercy flows in steadily. How was I, who had never
been able to conquer my own love for an unattainable woman, to blame
this man of much more combustible temperament, whom I had myself
induced to form a marriage with a girl whom I had no means of knowing
to be first in his heart? I would take no high moral tone with him
now; I would speak to him frankly as man to man, hold myself
blameworthy for my own share in the unlucky matrimonial venture, and
appeal to the sense and kindness I knew he possessed not to let the
punishment for my indiscretion fall upon the only one of us three who
was entirely free from blame. There crossed my mind at this point of
my reflections an unpleasant remembrance of the manner in which
Fabian had received a somewhat similar appeal from me years ago, and
down at the bottom of my heart there lurked a conviction that he would
hear whatever I might say without offence, and neglect it without
scruple. However, it was impossible to be silent now; and as the gray
day dissolved into darkness, and the only light in the study, to which
I had retreated, came from the glowing peat-fire, I got up from the
old leather chair which was consecrated to my reveries, and with one
glance through the eastern window out at the great woolly flakes of
snow that were now falling thickly, I left the room and went in search
of Mrs. Ellmer.
I heard her voice in her daughter's room, and knocking at the door,
called to her softly. She came out at once, and by her gentle manner I
judged that she was already contrite for having treated me so
cavalierly at our late interview.
'How is Babiole?' I asked first.
'She is quiet now and much better, Mr. Maude. Would you like to see
her?'
'Well, no; I couldn't do her so much good as you can. I wanted to
speak to you. I've been thinking; of course Fabian wrote two letters,
and put them into the wrong envelopes. Then the letter he intended for
his wife told her when he was coming, while the other letter made an
appointment on the way. Can you find out by the letter which has come
to your hands when he expects to arrive here?'
'It was written the night before last; the appointment was for last
night,' answered she with a fresh access of acidity.
'Then he probably meant to come on here to-day. I think I'll go to
Ballater and meet the six o'clock train; I shall just have time. And
if he doesn't come by that I'll telegraph to Edinburgh. What address
does he give there?'
'Royal Hotel. But you don't suppose that he will dare to come on here
when he finds out what he has done?'
'I don't suppose he will find out till he gets here.'
'I hope, Mr. Maude, if he does come, you will persuade Babiole to show
a little spirit. She seems inclined at present to receive him back
like a lamb.'
I was sorry to hear this, because it suggested to me that her feeling
for her husband had declined even below the point of indifference. I
left Mrs. Ellmer and went downstairs to put on my mackintosh and
prepare for my tramp in the snow. The lamp in the hall had not yet
been lighted, and I was fumbling in the darkness for my deer-stalker
on the pegs of the hat-stand when I heard my name called in a hoarse
whisper from the staircase just above me. I turned, and saw the
outline of Babiole's head against the faint candle-light which fell
upon the landing above through the open door of her room.
'Mr. Maude,' she repeated, trying to clear and steady her voice.
'Where are you going?'
'Only as far as the village,' said I in a robust and matter-of-fact
tone.
'Are you going to meet Fabian?'
'Yes, if he is anywhere about.'
'Ah, I thought so!' burst from her lips in a sharp whisper. She came
down two more steps hurriedly: 'You are not to reproach him, Mr.
Maude, you are not to plead for me, do you hear? What good can you do
by interceding for a love which is dead? I was jealous when I read
that letter, but not so jealous as shocked, wounded. And now that I
have thought a little I am not jealous at all; so what right have I
to be even wounded? This lady he wrote to he has admired for a long
time, and though I never knew anything before, I guessed. She is a
beauty, her photograph is in all the windows, and a little fringe of
scandal hangs about her. She has dash, _eclat_, brilliancy; I have
heard him say so. So he is consistent, you see, after all. I can
acknowledge that now, and I don't feel angry.'
Her voice was indeed quite calm, although unutterably sad. But I
noticed and rejoiced in the absence of that bitterness which had
jarred on me so painfully in London.
'I do though,' I said gruffly.
'But you must not show it. You cannot reconcile us through the heart,
for you cannot make him a different man. You must be satisfied with
knowing that you have made me a better wife. I am just as much
stronger in heart and mind as I am in health since I have been up
here; I wanted to tell you that while I had the opportunity, to tell
you that you have cured me, and to--thank you.'
As she uttered the last words in a low, sweet, lingering tone, a light
burst suddenly upon us and showed me what the darkness had hidden--an
expression on her pale face of beautiful strength and peace, as if
indeed the quiet hills and the dark sweet-scented forests and the two
human hearts that cared for her had poured some elixir into her soul
to fortify it against indifference and neglect.
A little dazzled and befooled by her lovely appearance, I stood gazing
at her face without a thought as to where the idealising light came
from, until I heard at the other end of the hall a grating preliminary
cough, and turning, saw that it was Ferguson, entering with the lamp,
who had brought about this poetical effect. He had something to say to
me evidently, since instead of advancing to place the light on its
usual table, he remained standing at a distance still and stiff as a
statue of resignation, as his custom was when his soul was burning to
deliver itself of an unsolicited communication.
'Well, Ferguson!' said I.
'Yes, sir,' said he, with another cough.
But he did not come forward. Now I knew this was a sign that he
considered his errand serious, and I moved a few steps towards him and
beckoned him to me.
'Anything to tell me?' I asked; and as he glanced at Babiole I came
nearer still.
'Jock has just been in to say, sir, that a gun has been stolen from
his cottage.'
Babiole, who had not moved away, overheard, and must have guessed the
import of this, for I heard behind me a long-drawn breath caused by
some sudden emotion.
'When did he miss it?' I asked in a very low voice.
'Just now, sir. He came straight here to tell you of it. It must have
been taken while he was out on his rounds this afternoon.'
I did not think the poor crack-brained creature whom I guessed to be
the thief was likely to do much mischief with his prize. But I told
Ferguson to put all the keepers on their guard, and to take care that
such crazy old bolts and bars as we used in that primitive part of the
world should be drawn and raised, so that the unlucky fugitive should
not be able to possess himself of any more weapons. I also directed
that the search about the grounds should be kept up, and that if the
poor wretch were caught, he was to be treated with all gentleness, and
taken to the now disused cottage to await my return.
It was now so late that if Fabian had come by the four o'clock train
he must by this time be half way from the station. But it was
possible that he had already discovered the mistake of the letters,
and had felt a shyness about continuing a journey which was likely to
bring him to a cold welcome; so I stuck to my intention of going to
Ballater either to meet him if he had arrived, or to telegraph to him
if he had not. When I had finished speaking to Ferguson, I found that
Babiole had disappeared from the hall. I was rather glad of it; for I
had dreaded her questioning, and I hurried the preparations for my
walk so that in a few moments I was out of the house and safe from the
difficult task of calming her fears.
It was already night when I shut the halldoor behind me and stepped
out on to the soft white covering which was already thick on the
ground. The snow was still falling thickly, and the only sound I
heard, as I groped my way under the arching trees of the avenue, was
the occasional swishing noise of a load of snow that, dislodged by a
fresh burden from the upper branch of a fir-tree, brushed the lower
boughs as it fell to the earth. I am constitutionally untroubled by
nervous tremors, and I was too deeply occupied with thoughts of Fabian
and his wife to give much grave consideration to possible danger from
the unhappy lunatic who was now in all probability hidden somewhere in
the neighbourhood with a weapon in his possession; but when in the
oppressive darkness and stillness the tramp of footsteps in the soft
snow just behind me fell suddenly on my ears, I confess that it was
with my heart in my mouth, as the dairymaids say, that I turned and
raised threateningly the thick stick I carried. It was, however, only
Jock, gun in hand as usual, who had run fast to overtake me, and had
come upon me sooner than he expected, the small lantern he carried in
his hand being of little use in the darkness.
'What made you come, Jock?' I asked, not, to tell the truth, sorry to
have a companion upon the lonely forest road which seemed on this
night, for obvious reasons, a more gloomy promenade than usual.
'Mistress Scott bid me gang wi' ye, sir,' answered he. 'She said the
necht was sae dark ye might miss the pairth by the burn.'
We walked on together in silence until, having left the avenue far
behind us, we were well in the hilly and winding road which runs
through the forest from Loch Muick to the Dee. At one of the many
bends in the roadway Jock suddenly stopped and stood in a listening
attitude.
'Deer?' said I.
'Nae,' answered he, after a pause, in a measured voice, 'It's nae
deer.'
He said no more, but examined the barrels of his gun by the light of
the lantern, and walked on at a quicker pace. I had heard nothing, but
his manner put me on the alert, and it was with a sense of coming
adventure that, peering before me in the darkness and straining my
ears to catch the faintest sound, I strode on beside the sturdy young
Highlander. Warned as I was, it was with a sickening horror that, a
moment later, I too heard sounds which had already caught his keener
ears. Muffled by the falling snow, by the intervening trees, there
came faintly through the air the hoarse yelping cries of a madman. I
glanced at the stolid figure by my side.
'Was that what you heard, Jock?' I asked stupidly, more anxious for
the sound of his voice than for his answer.
'I dinna ken, sir, if ye heard what I heard,' said he cautiously.
All the while we were walking at our best pace through the snow. It
seemed a long time before, at one of the sharpest turns of the road,
Jock laid his hand on my shoulder and we stopped. There was nothing to
be seen but trees, trees, the patch of clear snow before us and the
falling flakes. But we could plainly hear the noise of tramping feet
and hoarse guttural cries--
'I've done it, I've done it! I said I would, and I've kept my word!
I've done it, I've done it, I've done it!'
The tramping feet seemed to beat time to the words. I had hardly
distinguished these cries when I started forward again, and dashing
round the angle of the road with a vague fear at my heart, I came
close upon the wild weird figure of the unhappy madman who, with his
hat off and his long lank hair tossed and dishevelled, was dancing
uncouthly in the deep shadow of the trees and chanting to himself the
words we had heard. On the ground at one side of him lay the stolen
gun, and at the other, close to the bank which bordered the road on
the left, was some larger object, which in the profound darkness I
could not at first define. With a sudden spring I easily seized the
lunatic and held him fast, while Jock lifted the lantern high so as to
see his face. As the rays of light fell upon me, however, Mr. Ellmer,
who had been too utterly bewildered by the sudden attack to make sign
or sound, gave forth a loud cry, and staring at me with starting
eyeballs and distorted shaking lips stammered out--
'It's he, he himself! Come back! Oh my God, I am cursed, cursed!'
In the surprise and fear these words inspired me with I released my
hold, so that he might with a very slight effort have shaken himself
free of my grasp. But he stood quite still, as if overmastered by
some power that he did not dare to dispute, and allowed himself to be
transferred from my keeping to Jock's without any show of resistance.
As soon as my hands were thus free, the young Highlander silently
passed me the lantern, which I took in a frenzy of excitement which
precluded the reception of any defined dread. I fell back a few steps
until the faint rays of the light I carried showed me, blurred by the
falling snow, the outline of the dark object I had already seen on the
white ground. It was the body of a man. I had known that before; I
knew no more now; but an overpowering sickness and dizziness came upon
me as I glanced down, blotting out the sight from before my eyes, and
filling me with the cowardly craving we have all of us known to escape
from an existence which has brought a sensation too deadly to be
borne. Every mad impulse of the passion with which I had lately been
struggling, every vague wish, every feeling of jealous resentment
seemed to spring to life again in my heart, and turn to bitter gnawing
remorse. I think I must have staggered as I stood, for I felt my foot
touch something, and at the shock my sight came to me again and I
knelt down in the snow.
'Fabian, Fabian, old fellow!' I called in a husky voice.
He was lying on his face. I put my arm under him and turned him over
and wiped the snow from his lips and forehead. His eyes were wide
open, but they did not see me; they had looked their last on the world
and on men. The blood was still flowing from a bullet wound just under
the left ribs, and his body was not yet cold.
Mad Mr. Ellmer, in the snow and the darkness, had mistaken Fabian for
me. He had sworn he would kill the man who should destroy his
daughter's happiness, and fate or fortune or the providence which has
strange freaks of justice had blinded his poor crazy eyes and enabled
him most tragically to keep his word.