“You will excuse me sending a verbal message by the doctor, for, as you
see, I am past writing, and... the time is short I wanted to speak with
you, Mrs. Arkwright, once before... I died.” And Egerton thought of the
day she had stood by her husband's deathbed as now she stood by his,
only that the nurse had left the room and there was no third person to
be an embarrassment “Do not suppose I forget your words to me the last
time we met in private,” he continued, as she did not speak nor look at
him, beyond one swift glance as she came into the room; “and believe
me, I would not have forced myself on you, nor would I have asked this
favour, had it not been that... I have something of which I must deliver
my soul.”
“You are not dying; you were a strong man, and a few days' illness
couldn't... be fatal,” she burst out, and it seemed as if Mrs. Arkwright
for once was going to lose control and fall a-weeping.
Then she mastered herself, and said almost coldly, “Had I known you
were so ill, I would have called to inquire; but nothing was said of
pneumonia, only a bad cold.”
“You forgive me, then, that ill-judged interference, Mrs. Arkwright, and
anything else in which I have offended you or failed in... my brother's
part?”
“Do not speak like that to me unless you wish to take revenge; it is I
who ask your pardon for my evil temper and insolence that day, and other
times; but you are too... good, else you would have understood.”
“You did not, then, hate me, as I supposed?” and his voice was strained
with eagerness.
“When you were prepared to approve my engagement to Mr. Crashaw? Yes,
I did, and I could have struck you as you bore witness to his
character--whom you detested. Conscientious and unselfish... on your
part, very. And yet at the same time I... did not hate you; I could
have... you are a dull man, Mr. Egerton, and I am not a saint. Is it
milk you drink?” And when she raised his head, her hands lingered as
they had not done before on her husband's.
“Are you really dying?” She sat down and looked at him, her head between
her hands. “You and I are, at least, able to face the situation.”
“Yes, without doubt; but I am not a martyr to overwork, or anything
else; my death is not a sentimental tragedy; do not let any one speak of
me in that fashion: I simply caught a cold and did not take care; it's
quite commonplace.” When he smiled his face was at its best, the dark
blue eyes having a roguish look as of a boy.
Mrs. Arkwright leant back on her chair and bit her lower lip.
“This is good-bye, then, and our friendship--six years long, isn't
it?--is over. Had I known it was to be so short--well, we had not
quarrelled.”
“Not over,” and he looked wistfully at her; “this life does not end
all.”
“Ah, you have the old romantic faith, and one would like to share it,
but no one knows; this life is the only certainty.”
“In a few hours,” he went on, “I shall know, and I expect to see my
friend Jacob Arkwright, whom I loved, although we only knew one another
for three years, and he... will ask for you.” Mrs. Arkwright regarded
Egerton with amazement.
“He will ask how I kept my trust, and I... will be ashamed, unless you
hear my confession and forgive me. For I... have sinned against you and
your husband.”
“In what?” she asked, with a hard voice.
“God knows that I had no thought of you he might not have read while
he was here. And afterwards for a year I was in heart your brother; and
then--oh, how can I say it and look you in the face, who thought me a
good and faithful minister of Christ?” and his eyes were large with pain
and sorrow.
“Say it,” she whispered, “say it plain; you must,” and she stretched out
her hand in commandment.
“I loved you as... a man loves a woman whom he would make his wife, till
it came to pass that I made excuses to visit you, till I watched you on
the street, till I longed for the touch of your hand, till I... oh, the
sin and shame--thought of you in the service and... at my prayers; yet I
had been left your guardian and had promised to be as a brother to you;
besides, nor was this the least of my shame, you were rich.”
“And now?” She had risen to her feet “I have finally overcome, but only
within these few months, and my heart is at last single. You are to me
again my friend's wife, and I shall meet him... in peace, if you forgive
me.”
For a few seconds nothing was heard but his rapid breathing, and then
she spoke with low, passionate voice.
“Your love needs no forgiveness; your silence... I can never forgive.”
He lived for two hours, and he spoke twice. Once he thanked his nurse
for her attentions, and just before he passed away she caught the words,
“through much tribulation... enter the Kingdom... God.”