Two days later, Nell sat beside Falconer. He was asleep, but every now
and then he moved suddenly, and his brows knit as if he were suffering.
The great surgeon--who, by the way, was small and short of stature--had
come down, made his examination, said a few cheerful words to the
patient, gone up to the Hall to dinner--at which he had talked fluently
of everything but the case--and returned to London with a big check from
Drake. But though he did not appear to have accomplished anything beyond
a general expression of approval of everything the local man had done,
all persons concerned felt encouraged and more hopeful by his visit; and
when Falconer showed signs of improvement it was duly placed to Sir
William's credit. There is much magic in a great name.
But the improvement was very slight, and Nell, as she watched the
wounded man, often felt a pang of dread shoot through her. Sometimes she
was assailed by the idea that Falconer was not particularly anxious to
live. When he was awake he would lie quite still, save when a spasm of
pain visited him, with his dark eyes fixed dreamily upon the window;
though when she spoke to him he invariably turned them to her with a
world of gratitude, a wealth of devotion in them.
And for the last two days the pity in Nell's tender heart had grown so
intense that it had become own brother to love itself. When a woman
knows that she can make a good man happy by just whispering "I love
you," she is sorely tempted to utter the three little pregnant words,
especially when she herself knows what it is to long for love.
She could make this man who worshiped her happy, and--and was it not
possible in doing so she might find, if not happiness, contentment for
herself?
A hundred times during the last two days she had asked herself this
question, until she had grown to desire that the answer might be in the
affirmative. Perhaps if she were betrothed to Falconer she would learn
to forget Drake, for whose voice and footstep she was always waiting.
On this afternoon, as she sat at her post, she was dwelling on the
problem, which had become almost unendurable at last, and she sighed
wearily.
Falconer awoke, as if he had heard her, and turned his eyes upon her
with the slow yet intense regard of the very weak.
"Are you there still?" he asked, in a low voice. "I thought you promised
me that, if I went to sleep, you would go out, into the garden, at
least."
"It wasn't exactly a promise. Besides, I don't think you have been
really asleep; and if you have it is not for long enough," she said,
smiling, and "hedging" in truly feminine fashion. "Are you feeling
better--not in so much pain?"
"Oh, yes," he replied. "I'm in no pain." He told the falsehood as
admirably as he managed his face when he was awake, but it gave him away
when he was asleep. "I shall be quite well presently. I wish to Heaven
they would let me be removed to the hospital!"
"That sounds rather ungrateful," said Nell, with mock indignation.
"Don't you think we are taking enough care of you?"
He sighed.
"When I lie here and think of all the trouble I've given, I sometimes
wish that that fellow's knife had found the right place. Though I
suppose they'd have hanged him if it had."
Nell shuddered.
"Is that the only reason you regret he did not kill you?" she said.
"Am I to speak the truth?"
"Nothing else is ever worth speaking," she remarked, in a low voice.
"Well, then, yes. I am not so enamored of life as to cling to it very
keenly," he said, stifling a sigh. "I don't mean because I have had a
rough time of it--the majority of the sons of men find the way paved
with flints--but because----What an ungrateful brute I must seem to you.
Forgive me; I'm still rather weak."
"Rather!"
"Very weak, then; and I talk like a hysterical girl. But, seriously, if
any man were given his choice, I think he'd prefer to cross the river at
once to facing the gray and dreary days that lie before him."
"But the days that lie before you are brilliant; crimson with fame and
fortune, instead of gray and dreary," she said. "Have you forgotten your
success at--at the ball? that you were to play at the duchess'?
Everybody says that you will become famous, that a great future lies
before you, Mr. Falconer."
"Do they?" he said, gazing at the window dreamily. "No, I have not
forgotten. I wonder whether they are right?"
"I know, I feel, they are right," she said quietly. "Very soon we shall
all be bragging of your acquaintance--I, for one, at any rate. I shall
never lose an opportunity of talking of 'my friend, Mr. Falconer, the
great musician, you know.'"
"Yes," he said, looking at her with a faint smile. "I think you will be
pleased. And I----"
He paused.
"Well?" she asked.
"If the prophecy comes true, I shall spend my time looking back at the
old days, and sighing for the Buildings, for that sunny room of yours,
with the tea kettle singing on the hob, and----Has Dick come back from
Angleford?"
Nell nodded.
"And the man? Has he been committed for trial?"
"Yes," she replied. "But I don't want to speak of that--it isn't good
for you."
He was silent a moment; then he said:
"Do you know, I've got a kind of sneaking pity for the man. He wanted
the diamonds badly--he needed them more than the countess did. What
would it have mattered to her if he had got off with them? And he risked
his liberty and his life for them. A man can't do more than that for the
thing he wants."
Nell tried to laugh.
"I have never listened to a more immoral sentiment," she said. "I think
you had better go to sleep again. But I understand," she added, as if
she were compelled to do so.
"And I fancy the reflection that he made a good fight for it--and it was
a good one; he was a plucky fellow!--must console him for his failure.
After all, one can only try."
"Try to steal other people's jewels," said Nell.
"Try for what seems the best--what one wants," he said dreamily. "I
wonder whether he would have been satisfied if he had got off with, say,
a small box of trinkets?"
"I should imagine he would consider himself very lucky," said Nell, her
eyes downcast.
"Do you think so?" asked Falconer quietly. "Somehow, I fancy you're
wrong. He would have hankered after those diamonds for the rest of his
life, and no amount of small trinkets would have consoled him for having
missed them. Though I dare say, being a plucky fellow, he would have
made the best of it."
Nell began to tremble. The parable was plain to her. The man beside her
had failed to win the woman he loved, and would try to make the best of
the poor trinkets of fame and success. Her lips quivered, and her eyes
drooped lower.
"Perhaps--perhaps he would have tried for the diamonds again," she said,
almost inaudibly.
He looked at her with a sudden light in his eyes, a sudden flush on his
white face.
"Do--do you think so? Do you think it would have been any use?"
Nell rose, and brought some milk and water for him.
"I--I don't know," she said. "I--I think, if he felt that he wanted them
so badly, he would have tried again; and that--that--he might----"
He raised himself on his elbow and looked at her fixedly, his breath
coming fast, his eyes searching hers.
"Ah!" he said. "You think that if he came to the countess and whined
for the things, she would have given them to him out of sheer pity! Is
that it?"
Nell shook her head.
"One can't imagine his being such a cur, such a fool, as to do it!" he
said, sinking back. "And yet that is what I am! See how weak and
cowardly I am, Nell! I promised that I would never again trouble you
with my love; that I would be content to be your friend--your friend
only; and yet a few days' sickness, and I am crawling at your feet and
begging you to take compassion on me! And you'd do it!--yes, I know what
you meant when you said that the man would try for the diamonds
again!--out of womanly pity you would! Oh, shame on me for a cur to take
advantage of my weakness!"
"Hush, hush!" she said brokenly. "I meant what I said; I--I----" She
tried to smile. "I am a woman, and--and may change my mind!"
"But not your heart!" he said. He raised himself on his elbow again.
"For God's sake, don't tempt me! I--I am not strong enough to resist. I
want my diamonds so badly, you see, that I would stoop to stealing them.
Nell, don't tempt me!"
He sank back, and put his hand over his eyes as if to shut out the
beautiful face of the girl he loved.
Nell sank into a chair, and sat silent for a moment; then she said, in a
low voice:
"I want to tell you the truth."
He took his hand away from his eyes, and fixed them on her downcast
face.
"Go on," he said. "Tell me everything; why--why you have aroused a
hope--the dearest hope of my life----But no; it never was a hope, only a
hopeless longing. Ah! if you knew what such love meant, you would
forgive me for my weakness, for my cowardice. To long day and night! If
you knew!"
"Perhaps I do!" she whispered, in so low a voice that it was wonderful
he should have heard her. But he did hear, and he turned to her quickly.
"You! And I--I never guessed it! Oh, forgive me! forgive me! Then indeed
there never was any hope for me. I understand! How blind I have been!
Who----No; I've no right to ask. Now I understand the look in your eyes
which has often haunted and puzzled me. Oh, what a blind, blundering
fool I have been all this time!"
"Hush!" she said, still so low that he could only just hear the broken
murmur. "I--I am glad you did not know. I--I would not have told you
now, if--if it were not all past and done with!"
"Nell!" he said.
"Yes, it is all past and done with," she repeated. "And--and I want to
forget it. I want you--to help me! Oh! must I speak more plainly? Won't
you understand? If you will be content to take me--knowing what I have
told you--if you will be content to wait until I--I have quite
forgotten! and I shall soon, very soon----"
He stretched out his hand to her, an eager cry on his lips.
"Content!" he said. "You ask me if I shall be content!"
Then, as she put out her hand to meet his, he saw her face. It was white
to the lips, and there was a look in her eyes more full of agony than
his own had worn at his worst times. He let his hand fall on the bed.
"Is it all past?" he asked doubtfully.
She was about to speak the word "Yes," when a voice came from below
through the open window. It was Drake talking to Dick. The blood flew to
her face, her brows came together, and she shrank as if some one had
struck her.
Falconer, with his eyes fixed upon her, heard the voice, saw the change
on her face. The light died out of his eyes, and slowly, very slowly, he
drew his hand back.
Nell stood looking before her, her lips set tightly, her eyes downcast.
It was a terrible moment, in which she appeared under a spell so deep as
to cause her to forget the presence of the man beside her. And, as he
watched her, the life seemed to die out of his face as well as his eyes.
The door opened, and Dick came in.
"Drake's come to inquire after the patient," he said. "How are we,
Falconer?"
"Better," said Falconer, with a smile; "much better. Couldn't you
persuade Miss Lorton to take down the report, Dick?"
Dick nodded commandingly at Nell.
"Yes; you go, Nell."
She hesitated a moment; then she raised her head and glanced at Falconer
reproachfully.
"Yes, I will go," she said, almost defiantly.
Drake leaned against the rails in the sunlight, softly striking his
riding whip against his leg. His horse's bridle was hitched over the
gate, and as he waited for Dick he thought of the time when the bridle
had been hitched over another gate.
He heard a step lighter than Dick's on the stairs behind him, and slowly
turned his head. The sun was streaming through the doorway, so that the
slim, graceful figure and lovely face were set as in an aureole. A
thrill ran through him, the color rose to his bronzed face, and he
stood motionless and speechless for a moment; then he raised his hat.
"How is Mr. Falconer?" he asked.
He had not seen her since the night of the burglary, the night he had
held her in his arms, and the blunt question sounded like a mockery set
against the aching longing of his heart.
"He is better," she said.
Her eyes rested on him calmly, and she spoke quite steadily, so that he
did not guess that her heart was beating wildly, and that she had to
clench the hand beside her in her effort to maintain her composure.
"I am glad," he said simply. "It has been an anxious time--must be so
still--for you, I am afraid."
"Yes," she said.
He stood looking at her, and then away from her, and then at her again,
as if his eyes must return to her against his will.
"I--I am glad to see you. I wanted to tell you--to thank you for what
you did for me the other night. You know that I owe you my life?"
She shook her head and forced a smile.
"Isn't that rather an--exaggeration, Lord Angleford?"
He bit his lip at the "Lord Angleford." And yet how else could she
address him?
"No," he said; "it is the simple truth. The man would have shot me."
"Then I am glad," she said quietly, as if there were no more to be said.
He bit his lip again.
"You are looking pale and thin."
"Oh, no," she said. "I am quite well."
Why did he not go? Every moment it became more difficult for her to
maintain her forced calm. If he would only go! But he stood, his eyes
now downcast, now seeking hers, his brows knit, as if he found it awful
to remain, and yet impossible to go.
"Will you tell Mr. Falconer that directly he is able to go out I will
send a carriage for him--a pony phaeton, or something of that sort?" he
said, at last.
Nell inclined her head.
"We will leave here as soon as he can be moved," she said.
His frown deepened.
"Why?" he asked sharply. "Why should you?"
The blood began to mount to her face, and, gnawing at his mustache, he
turned away. But as he did so Dick came down the stairs, two at a time.
"Hi, Drake!" he called out. "Don't go. Falconer would like to see you!"
Drake hesitated just for a second--then----
"I shall be very glad," he said.
Nell moved aside to let him pass, and went into the sitting room, and he
followed Dick upstairs. She went to the window, and stood looking out
for a moment or two, then she caught up her hat and left the house, for
she knew that she could not see him again--ah! not just yet.
Drake went up the stairs slowly, trying to brace himself to go through
the ordeal like a man--and a gentleman. He was going to congratulate Mr.
Falconer on his good fortune in winning the woman he himself loved. It
was a hard, a bitterly hard thing to have to do, but it had to be done.
"Here's Lord Angleford, old man," said Dick, introducing him. "I don't
know whether visitors are permitted yet, but you can lay the blame on
me; and you needn't palaver long, Drake."
"I will take care not to tire Mr. Falconer," said Drake, as he went to
the bedside and held out his hand.
Falconer took it in his thin one, and looked up at the handsome face
with an expression which somewhat puzzled Drake.
"I'm glad to hear you're better," he said. "I suppose I ought not to
refer to the subject, but I can't help saying, Falconer, how much we--I
mean Lady Angleford--and all of us--are indebted to you. But for you the
fellow would have got off, and her diamonds would have been lost."
Falconer noticed the friendly "Falconer," and though his heart was
aching, he could not help admiring the man who stood beside him with all
the grace of health and high birth in his bearing; and he sighed
involuntarily as he drew a contrast between himself and "my lord the
earl."
"All the same," Drake went on, "the countess would rather have lost her
diamonds than you should be hurt."
"Her ladyship is very kind," said Falconer. His eyes, unnaturally
bright, were fixed on Drake's face, his voice was low but steady. "I am
glad I was of some little use in saving them. The man has been committed
for trial, I hear?"
Drake nodded indifferently.
"Yes," he said. "I wish he had dropped the jewel cases and got off. It
would have saved a lot of bother. But don't be afraid that you will be
wanted as a witness," he added quickly. "I and one or two of the men who
were present when he was captured will be sufficient. There will be no
need to worry you--or Miss Lorton."
Falconer nodded.
"I hope you will be able to get out soon," said Drake. "I told Miss
Lorton that I would send a carriage for you--something bulky and
comfortable. Perhaps you'll let me drive you?"
Falconer nodded again, and Drake began to feel vaguely uncomfortable
under his fixed gaze and taciturnity; and being uncomfortable, he
blundered on to the subject that tortured him.
"But Miss Lorton can drive you well enough; she is a perfect whip.
And--and now I am mentioning her, I will take the opportunity of
congratulating you upon your engagement, Falconer."
Falconer's lips twitched, but his eyes did not leave Drake's face, which
had suddenly become stern and grim.
"You knew Miss Lorton before she came here, Lord Angleford?" said
Falconer.
Drake colored, and set his lips tightly.
"Yes," he said, trying to speak casually. "We met----"
He stopped, overwhelmed by a thousand memories. His eyes fell, but
Falconer's did not waver.
"Then it is as an old friend of hers that you congratulate me, Lord
Angleford?" he said.
"Yes, an old friend," said Drake, his throat dry and hot. "I wish you
every happiness, my dear fellow; and I think you----"
Falconer raised himself on his elbow.
"You are laboring under a mistake, Lord Angleford," he said, very
quietly. "You think that Miss Lorton--is betrothed to me?"
Drake nodded. His face had grown pale; there was an eager light in his
eyes. Falconer dropped back with a sigh.
"You are wrong," he said. "Who told you?"
Drake was silent a moment. The blood was rushing through his veins.
"Who told me? I heard--everybody said----"
He dropped into the chair and leaned forward, his face stern and set.
Falconer smiled as grimly as Drake could have done.
"What everybody says is rarely true, my lord. We are not betrothed."
"You don't----" exclaimed Drake.
A worm will turn if trodden on too heavily. Falconer turned. His face
grew hot, his dark eyes flashed.
"Yes, my lord, I love her!" he said, and the lowness of his voice only
intensified its emphasis. "I love her so well--so madly, if you
like--that I choose to set conventionality at defiance, and speak the
truth. I love her, but I can never win her, because there is one who
comes between her and me. Wait!"--for Drake had risen, and was gazing
down at the wan face with flashing eyes. "I do not know who he is. She
has never uttered a word to guide me; but I can guess. Wait a moment
longer, my lord! Whoever he may be, he is not worthy of her; but she
cares for him, and that is enough for me, and should be enough for him.
If I were that man----"
He stopped, for his breath had failed him. Drake leaned over him as if
he would drag the conclusion of the sentence from him.
"If I were that man, I'd strive to win her as I'd strive for heaven! Ah,
it would be heaven!" His lips twitched, and he turned his face away for
a moment. "I would count everything else as of no account. I would
thrust all obstacles aside, would go through fire and water to reach
her----"
Drake caught him by the arm.
"Take care!" he said hoarsely. "You bid me hope! Dare I do so?"
Falconer looked at him fixedly.
"Go to her and see. Wait, my lord. I love her as dearly--more dearly,
perhaps, God knows!--than you do. She would be mine at a word."
Drake stood motionless, his face white and set.
"But that word will never be spoken by me. So I prove my love. Prove
yours, my lord, and go to her!"
Drake tried to speak, but could not. His hand closed over Falconer's for
a moment, then he hurried from the room and went down the stairs.
Dick was lounging in the porch with a cigarette, and he stared at
Drake's hurried appearance, at his white, set face.
"Where is Nell? Where is your sister?" Drake demanded.
"Heaven only knows! She went out when you came in. She's in the wood, I
should think."
Drake strode down the path and into the wood. His brain was on fire. She
was free--they were both free! There was heaven in the thought!
Nell was seated at the foot of one of the big elms, and heard his quick,
firm steps. She looked up, and would have risen and flown, but he was
upon her before she could move--was upon her, and in some strange,
never-to-be-explained way had got her hand in his.
"Nell--Nell!" was all he could say, as he knelt beside her and looked
into her eyes.