LOVERS
Naturally enough, Elspeth could not understand the hurried explanation
of the doctor, and could not guess what an important clue the little
man was following up. For a moment or two, she watched him puffing and
panting down the dreary road, and then, with a sigh, she entered the
spongy meadow wherein the caravan was standing. It looked bright and
gay in its coat of yellow paint, although a portion of it was covered
with tarpaulin to preserve from rain various brooms and brushes and
mats and baskets, which dangled on all four sides. The day was still
fine, but already the sky was darkening with the coming night, and the
vehicle looked rather lonely in that wide bleak meadow. The horse
which usually drew the caravan seemed to know this, for it kept as
close as possible to its perambulating home.
As Elspeth approached, she began to sing "Garryowen," since she was
unable to whistle, so as to let Herries know that a friend was coming.
Also when she climbed the steps, she gave the triple knock on the
door, and waited with a beating heart for a sight of that dearly loved
face. The door was cautiously opened, and she hastened to breathe her
own name. Shortly she was within, and the door was again locked.
Herries stepped across the gaping space of his cramped hiding-place,
which was open. He usually kept it ready, so as to slip in and cover
himself with the boards, which he could do by touching the spring, as
speedily as possible. One never knew what stranger might come to the
caravan, either in the way of business, or out of curiosity to see
the sick woman. Rachel herself, looking much better and with a flush
on her formerly pale cheeks, was sitting up. She received Elspeth
with a rather knowing laugh, and held out a large hand, covered,
gipsy-fashion, with silver rings.
"I am glad to see you, my dear," she said in a hearty tone. "I can
talk now, as my throat is getting rapidly well, thanks to Dr.
Herries."
"I am not exactly a doctor," said the young man, smiling, "you can
call me Mr. Herries, the surgeon."
"Oh, you're a doctor right enough," said the proprietress of the
caravan with a nod. "No one could have cured me so quickly as you have
done. And Sweetlips will help you, doctor, as you have helped me. See
if he doesn't. You'll walk a free man yet."
"What is the verdict, Elspeth?" asked Herries, anxiously, "but I need
not ask," he added, smiling bitterly. "Wilful murder, eh, and Angus
Herries the murderer? I thought so."
Elspeth nodded, and leaned against the wall of the vehicle, as her
heart was too full to speak. Mrs. Kind strove to cheer the poor young
fellow who was dreeing so hard a weird.
"Come, come," she cried, in a hearty, good-humoured voice, "you're no
worse off than you were before."
"Ah, but I think he is," said Elspeth, clasping her thin hands. "There
is now a reward of five hundred pounds offered."
Herries started and flushed and bit his lip.
"By whom?"
"Miss Tedder."
"My cousin, by the girl who said that she loved me. After that, after
that--" he flung himself down on the broken chair, and gnawed his
fingers.
"She never loved you," said Elspeth with a tremor in her voice, and a
high colour in her cheeks.
"How do you know?"
"I have seen her. A doll, a soulless woman, a selfish girl. She could
never love a man as a man ought to be loved. Do you think that I would
have doubted you, that I----" here she became conscious that she was
revealing her secret, and became violently red.
Mrs. Kind touched Herries' arm.
"I told you so," said she in an undertone. "What do you think now?"
Herries sat mute with loosely clasped hands, and stared at the
shrinking girl. Elspeth was clinging to the caravan wall, utterly
confused, and although her face was turned away, she felt that the
eyes of the man she loved were upon her, striving, as it were, to read
her very soul. And why should he not, since that soul was clean and
pure, and ready to give itself to this man, who was under the ban of
the law. As the knowledge of this came to her, she lifted her head
proudly and sent a glance in the direction of Herries, which showed
plainly all she thought, all she was trying to conceal.
"Good God," murmured Herries under his breath, and hid his face in his
hands. "What have I done to deserve love like this?"
In a flash he comprehended the nobility of the girl, servant though
she was. He recalled how she had aided him to escape, how she had
searched out this place of refuge, how her eyes never left his face,
and how she seemed to hang on his words. Hitherto he had been blind,
but now in a hundred ways he knew that this poor, shabbily-clothed
drudge loved him with surpassing strength. He raised his eyes to look
at her delicate face, at her beautifully poised head, and into her
wonderful eyes, pools of liquid light, irradiated by purity, and by a
love half wifely, half maternal. She was Gowrie's daughter, according
to Kind, but he could see nothing of Gowrie in her. In looks and
nature and principles she was as far removed from that easy-going old
sinner, as the earth was from the sun. All that was of her was
beautiful and gracious. She needed but love and care and artistic
surroundings to blossom out into a lovely, serene, radiant woman. He
had been blind not to have seen this before. He had never dreamed that
she loved him. But Mrs. Kind had opened his eyes to a certain extent,
being woman enough to read Elspeth's secret. Now the single glance
from the girl's soulful eyes revealed everything. She loved him,
adored him, him the outcast, the accused murderer, the man on whom
Fortune had turned a chilly back.
"I never thought of this," said Herries, raising himself with some
difficulty, for his tumult of thoughts made him weak. "Elspeth!"
"No!" she flung out her hands, and her face flamed, "say nothing. I
am--I am--your friend."
"You are the sole woman who has looked at me in such a way," said
Herries hoarsely, and regardless of the patient, he bent forward
across the narrow space of the caravan to catch impulsively at
Elspeth's cold little hands. "I never guessed, I never dreamed of such
joy, but now, I know, I feel that you love me, as I love you."
Mrs. Kind clapped her hands and laughed with glee.
"It's as good as medicine," she cried, with the ready tears in her
eyes, "I was right, I was right. I saw--I knew--oh, these men, these
men, how little they understand us women."
"But it's impossible," murmured Elspeth, snatching away her hands.
"You cannot love, you--you know nothing about me, you----"
"I know your soul, I have seen it in your eyes. I know that it seems
strange to you, it does to me," he drew his hand perplexedly across
his forehead. "I never thought that Romeo and Juliet was true to
nature; that sudden love, that passionate romance, seemed impossible,
incredible. I could not believe that true love could be born of a
single glance. But now I understand, and you have taught me to
understand. It is the love of soul and soul that springs up thus
rapidly, like Jonah's gourd, in a night. Jonah, ah, yes, for years I
have compared myself with that unlucky prophet, for everything has
gone awry with me, these many days. I looked forward to a miserable
future similar to the miserable past. This accusation of murder seemed
to be the climax of bad luck. But now I know that it is but one of
those evils out of which comes infinite good. You love me: there is no
more to be said."
"Tit, tit," cried the onlooker from the bed, "there is heaps to be
said, doctor. Tell her how you love her, how pretty she is, and----"
"I am not pretty," interrupted Elspeth, vehemently, "no one can say
that, Mrs. Kind."
"You are not pretty," assented Herries gravely, for he guessed that an
overstrained compliment would make her think him shallow, "but you
have the beauty of the soul, which shines through your face. It is
that loveliness, which has caused me to recognize and return your
love. Maud Tedder attracted me by her beauty, by her external beauty,
and so the love I had for her--if it could be called love--was not
lasting. But you, dear,--you," he exclaimed ardently, "it is your soul
I worship and adore."
"You may be mistaken," stammered Elspeth, "it is so sudden----"
"No more sudden than is your love for me."
"Ah!" she smiled faintly, "but I am a woman and impulsive."
"Does that mean you may be mistaken."
"No. A thousand times no. I love you with all my heart, and nothing
can lessen or do away with that love."
"Then you would not have me less fond, would you, dear? If I do not
love you as you love me, then am I but a mere animal, unable to
recognise the higher things of life. I did not recognise them until
you looked at me,--until the veil fell from my eyes, and the warmth of
your affection kindled a flame in my heart. But my soul has spoken to
your soul, and if we had met and wooed for years, we could get no
nearer the one to the other, than we are. Ours will be a marriage made
in heaven,--the ideal heavenly marriage."
"Marriage!" she murmured, confused, "marriage."
"Yes, although I admit that I am a poor husband for you. I have no
money,--I am under the ban of the law,--my life is full of
misfortunes. Ah, dearest heart, think how deep must be my love, when I
asked you to become my wife at this juncture."
"Bless me," cried Mrs. Kind, not following this reasoning, "I should
think it was the other way about. A chap as loves a maid shouldn't
drag her down to poverty."
"You are wrong,--you are wrong," said Elspeth, passing swiftly to the
side of the bunk, "and Mr. Herries is right. Were we both rich, and
careless of the deeper things of life, which poverty alone can teach,
then we might marry without knowing each other's souls. But now, when
we are in the depths, when Fate is doing her worst, when there is no
earthly gain on either side, now is the time that we know our love is
heavenly and lasting."
"Then you love me indeed," said Herries coming up to her.
She turned and put out her hands. All that was womanly in her, came to
the surface in this hour, when both were at the nadir of their
fortunes.
"I love you," said Elspeth simply, and there was no need to say more,
as her eyes spoke far more eloquently than did her tongue. "I will be
your wife, when and where you will."
Herries was not an emotional man, but the tears came into his eyes as
he bent forward to kiss those virgin lips. This sudden love, so new,
so wonderful, so heart-inspiring, was so simple in its genesis that
for the moment he could scarcely think that it was actual fact.
"I ask nothing further of Fortune now," said the young man, and his
strong voice quavered. "I have gained the love of an angel."
"Ah!" said Mrs. Kind shifting uneasily on her pillow, "that's what all
men say before marriage, but afterwards----"
"There will be no afterwards," cried Herries impetuously. "The
beautiful present will be always with us.
"Beautiful present, doctor, and you being hunted down."
"I am not caught yet," said Herries gaily. "For the rest, I can afford
to wait,--with Elspeth."
"But if you are captured?" she asked, her head resting unresistingly
on his breast.
"I shall not be captured," said Herries forcibly, "though it may be
that I shall give myself up."
"Mr. Herries----"
"Angus!"
"Well then, Angus, you would not give yourself up?"
The young man sat down again on the broken chair, and drew the slight
form of his beloved to his knee.
"Dear," he said gravely, "I have thought over matters in my solitude,
and I see how wrong I have been in not facing the worst. This flight
of mine almost admits guilt. If I am innocent, people ask themselves,
why should I fly?"
"Because appearances were against you," burst out Elspeth. "Because
you were in the hands of Inspector Trent, who would not give you a
fair trial. Innocent men have been hanged before, for crimes which
they did not commit, and if you give yourself up to these policemen
who are misled by false evidence, you may be hanged."
"No, dear, I will not be hanged. The God who has given me a pure
woman's love in my hour of deep distress will not forsake me in my
need. Your love, given unasked, marks the turn of my fortunes; so low
as I have sunk, even so high will I rise, and you with me. And come
what may, your heart can never prove false to me."
"Never! Never."
"My," said Mrs. Kind with a sigh, "don't he talk lovely. Sweetlips
never pattered in this way to me. It's as good as a play, and play it
is," she added, raising herself anxiously, "don't forget that you have
to save your life, before you can marry."
"We can be married quietly," said Elspeth.
"It ain't so easy to get tied up," retorted Mrs. Kind, wisely. "That
doctor now,--his name's in all the papers by this time, and if he
wanted a licence, or went to put up the banns, he'd be nabbed as soon
as looked at."
"Oh, Angus." Elspeth's eyes filled with tears.
He drew her tighter to his breast.
"Leave it to me, darling. What Mrs. Kind says is perfectly true, but
there is a way out of the difficulty. Let me consult Browne and
Sweetlips, and----"
"Oh," said Elspeth, starting, "Dr. Browne is here. I left him running
after a motor car."
"What for?"
Elspeth explained the episode of the insult, and what the little
doctor had said about the cigarette stump. Herries, knowing the theory
of Kind, became quite excited, as he guessed that if this clue was
followed up it might lead to serious developments, likely to secure
his safety.
"But I don't see what a woman can have to do with the murder," he said
perplexed.
"Leave it to Sweetlips," said Mrs. Kind, seriously. "He's the chap to
find a needle in a haystack."
"Yes, but a woman of fashion----"
"Ho," snorted Rachel, rubbing her nose, "did you ever know a case
where there wasn't a woman?" She glanced merrily at Elspeth. "There's
two in this affair."
"Three," said Elspeth quickly, "you forget Miss Tedder. By offering
this reward, Angus," she blushed as she shyly pronounced the name, "I
can see that she wants to hang you. Well then, I will put my wits
against hers and save her cousin."
"Save your husband that is to be," whispered Herries, fondly.
Elspeth took hold of the lapels of his poor jacket----
"Do you really mean it: do you really mean it?" she asked, earnestly.
"Think of what I am, as Sweetlips told you,--the daughter of Michael
Gowrie, who was left in pawn by him, to be a drudge at the 'Marsh
Inn.'"
"You are a lady,--the lady of my love, and the sweetest woman in the
wide world."
"Well," said Rachel, staring at Elspeth, while this was being
whispered into her ears, "if she don't look reglar, slap up, pretty!"
It was true. A lovely pink blush was over-spreading the pale face of
the girl, a smile of ecstasy parted her lips to show perfectly white
teeth, and the whole worn weary body seemed to be suddenly rejuvenated
by the power of the loving word. It was like the sun on a gloomy day
emerging from behind a cloud,--a promise of that hidden loveliness
which would reveal itself when she became the wife of the man she had
dared so much to save.
Mrs. Kind beckoned to the lovers who wooed so boldly in her presence
and smiled.
"Y' don't know that I'm a gipsy of sorts," she said, taking Herries'
hand. "Let me read the lines, doctor. I've read Elspeth's before,
ain't I, ducky? Lor, I read misery and sorrow, and folks as wished her
harm,--all of 'em to skip when the man came."
"The man?" queried Angus, submitting his palm to the sibyl.
"You're the man. I knew it the moment I saw her blushing like a true
maid. Aye, here's evil days behind you," she traced the lines with a
lean brown finger, "evil folk too, and hardship by land and sea. See
the crosses, deary, in the early part of life,--you've had 'em, oh my
gentleman, what a time you've had!"
"Jonah's luck," said Herries with a sigh, and to comfort him Elspeth
raised his disengaged hand to her lips.
"Aye! But luck of that sort is too bad to last. Hard rain don't last
long, my pretty ones. Bad luck to Elspeth, and bad luck to you, my
gentleman. Deary," she caught Elspeth's hand, and examined it turn and
turn about with Herries' palm, "why, here's the coupling, the cross of
marriage."
"Do you call it a cross?" asked Herries laughingly.
"It's the sign I speak of," said Mrs. Kind, simply. "Here, in your
hand and her's, on the verge of the criss-cross lines, and all plain
sailing before!" she dropped their hands and clapped her own. "Dearie
both, the worst is over. You'll win free, my gentleman, and have money
galore, and marry the pretty one who held to you in tribulation, as
she will in wealth. Good health, good luck, and good hearts, and may
the dear Lord have you both in His keeping."
"Amen to that," said Herries solemnly, "but how can you tell that I am
to have good fortune?"
"Two 'no's' make a 'yes,' my gentleman. Your bad fortune and hers make
one good one past believing, when you marry. Duvel!" Mrs. Kind became
more gipsy-like than ever, as she plied the trade peculiar to the
gentle Romany. "It's a true dukkeripen, brother," said she, and sank
back exhausted with the effort.
"Now, you must not talk more," said Herries, covering her up. "As your
doctor, I should not have allowed you to chatter, when your throat is
still weak. Elspeth," he turned to the girl, when Mrs. Kind was quiet,
"go to the inn, and tell Sweetlips to come to me, along with Browne,
if he is there. I want to hear everything up-to-date and arrange my
plans."
"Angus," she whispered, imploringly, "you will not give yourself up?"
"Not unless Browne and Sweetlips advise. I place myself in their
hands. Good-bye, dear."
"Good-bye!"
Elspeth was just receiving his kiss, when a thundering knock came
rattling at the door. The sick woman raised herself, much startled
and the lovers sprang apart. "Garryowen" had not been whistled or
sang, and the triple signal had not been given. This was some
stranger,--perhaps some enemy. Gathering her wits together, Elspeth
pointed mutely to the still gaping hiding-place, and Herries lay down
without a single word. In a twinkling, she had touched the spring and
the flooring hid him from sight. The knock came again.