"No, no! Rather would I be"--here she hesitated for an instant, but asshe caught sight of her cerements went on hurriedly--"as I am. I trustyou--not others; and you must not betray my trust." Almost instantly shefell into a frightful fit of shivering, drawing again her death-clothesclose to her, so piteously that it wrung my heart. I suppose I am apractical man. At any rate, I am accustomed to action. I took from itsplace beside my bed a thick Jaeger dressing-gown of dark brown--it was,of course, of extra length--and held it out to her as I said:
"Put that on. It is the only warm thing here which would be suitable.Stay; you must remove that wet--wet"--I stumbled about for a word thatwould not be offensive--"that frock--dress--costume--whatever it is." Ipointed to where, in the corner of the room, stood a chintz-coveredfolding-screen which fences in my cold sponge bath, which is laid readyfor me overnight, as I am an early riser.
She bowed gravely, and taking the dressing-gown in a long, white,finely-shaped hand, bore it behind the screen. There was a slightrustle, and then a hollow "flop" as the wet garment fell on the floor;more rustling and rubbing, and a minute later she emerged wrapped fromhead to foot in the long Jaeger garment, which trailed on the floorbehind her, though she was a tall woman. She was still shiveringpainfully, however. I took a flask of brandy and a glass from acupboard, and offered her some; but with a motion of her hand she refusedit, though she moaned grievously.
"Oh, I am so cold--so cold!" Her teeth were chattering. I was pained ather sad condition, and said despairingly, for I was at my wits' end toknow what to do:
"Tell me anything that I can do to help you, and I will do it. I may notcall help; there is no fire--nothing to make it with; you will not takesome brandy. What on earth can I do to give you warmth?"
Her answer certainly surprised me when it came, though it was practicalenough--so practical that I should not have dared to say it. She lookedme straight in the face for a few seconds before speaking. Then, with anair of girlish innocence which disarmed suspicion and convinced me atonce of her simple faith, she said in a voice that at once thrilled meand evoked all my pity:
"Let me rest for a while, and cover me up with rugs. That may give mewarmth. I am dying of cold. And I have a deadly fear upon me--a deadlyfear. Sit by me, and let me hold your hand. You are big and strong, andyou look brave. It will reassure me. I am not myself a coward, butto-night fear has got me by the throat. I can hardly breathe. Do let mestay till I am warm. If you only knew what I have gone through, and haveto go through still, I am sure you would pity me and help me."
To say that I was astonished would be a mild description of my feelings.I was not shocked. The life which I have led was not one which makes forprudery. To travel in strange places amongst strange peoples withstrange views of their own is to have odd experiences and peculiaradventures now and again; a man without human passions is not the typenecessary for an adventurous life, such as I myself have had. But even aman of passions and experiences can, when he respects a woman, beshocked--even prudish--where his own opinion of her is concerned. Suchmust bring to her guarding any generosity which he has, and anyself-restraint also. Even should she place herself in a doubtfulposition, her honour calls to his honour. This is a call which may notbe--_must_ not be--unanswered. Even passion must pause for at least awhile at sound of such a trumpet-call.
This woman I did respect--much respect. Her youth and beauty; hermanifest ignorance of evil; her superb disdain of convention, which couldonly come through hereditary dignity; her terrible fear andsuffering--for there must be more in her unhappy condition than meets theeye--would all demand respect, even if one did not hasten to yield it.Nevertheless, I thought it necessary to enter a protest against herembarrassing suggestion. I certainly did feel a fool when making it,also a cad. I can truly say it was made only for her good, and out ofthe best of me, such as I am. I felt impossibly awkward; and stutteredand stumbled before I spoke:
"But surely--the convenances! Your being here alone at night! Mrs.Grundy--convention--the--"
She interrupted me with an incomparable dignity--a dignity which had theeffect of shutting me up like a clasp-knife and making me feel a decidedinferior--and a poor show at that. There was such a gracious simplicityand honesty in it, too, such self-respecting knowledge of herself and herposition, that I could be neither angry nor hurt. I could only feelashamed of myself, and of my own littleness of mind and morals. Sheseemed in her icy coldness--now spiritual as well as bodily--like anincarnate figure of Pride as she answered:
"What are convenances or conventions to me! If you only knew where Ihave come from--the existence (if it can be called so) which I havehad--the loneliness--the horror! And besides, it is for me to _make_conventions, not to yield my personal freedom of action to them. Even asI am--even here and in this garb--I am above convention. Convenances donot trouble me or hamper me. That, at least, I have won by what I havegone through, even if it had never come to me through any other way. Letme stay." She said the last words, in spite of all her pride,appealingly. But still, there was a note of high pride in all this--inall she said and did, in her attitude and movement, in the tones of hervoice, in the loftiness of her carriage and the steadfast look of heropen, starlit eyes. Altogether, there was something so rarely lofty inherself and all that clad her that, face to face with it and with her, myfeeble attempt at moral precaution seemed puny, ridiculous, and out ofplace. Without a word i
n the doing, I took from an old chiffonier chestan armful of blankets, several of which I threw over her as she lay, forin the meantime, having replaced the coverlet, she had lain down atlength on the bed. I took a chair, and sat down beside her. When shestretched out her hand from beneath the pile of wraps, I took it in mine,saying:
"Get warm and rest. Sleep if you can. You need not fear; I shall guardyou with my life."
She looked at me gratefully, her starry eyes taking a new light more fullof illumination than was afforded by the wax candle, which was shadedfrom her by my body . . . She was horribly cold, and her teeth chatteredso violently that I feared lest she should have incurred some dangerousevil from her wetting and the cold that followed it. I felt, however, soawkward that I could find no words to express my fears; moreover, Ihardly dared say anything at all regarding herself after the haughty wayin which she had received my well-meant protest. Manifestly I was but toher as a sort of refuge and provider of heat, altogether impersonal, andnot to be regarded in any degree as an individual. In these humiliatingcircumstances what could I do but sit quiet--and wait developments?
Little by little the fierce chattering of her teeth began to abate as thewarmth of her surroundings stole through her. I also felt, even in thisstrangely awakening position, the influence of the quiet; and sleep beganto steal over me. Several times I tried to fend it off, but, as I couldnot make any overt movement without alarming my strange and beautifulcompanion, I had to yield myself to drowsiness. I was still in such anoverwhelming stupor of surprise that I could not even think freely.There was nothing for me but to control myself and wait. Before I couldwell fix my thoughts I was asleep.
I was recalled to consciousness by hearing, even through the pall ofsleep that bound me, the crowing of a cock in some of the out-offices ofthe castle. At the same instant the figure, lying deathly still but forthe gentle heaving of her bosom, began to struggle wildly. The sound hadwon through the gates of her sleep also. With a swift, gliding motionshe slipped from the bed to the floor, saying in a fierce whisper as shepulled herself up to her full height:
"Let me out! I must go! I must go!"
By this time I was fully awake, and the whole position of things came tome in an instant which I shall never--can never--forget: the dim light ofthe candle, now nearly burned down to the socket, all the dimmer from thefact that the first grey gleam of morning was stealing in round the edgesof the heavy curtain; the tall, slim figure in the brown dressing-gownwhose over-length trailed on the floor, the black hair showing glossy inthe light, and increasing by contrast the marble whiteness of the face,in which the black eyes sent through their stars fiery gleams. Sheappeared quite in a frenzy of haste; her eagerness was simplyirresistible.
I was so stupefied with amazement, as well as with sleep, that I did notattempt to stop her, but began instinctively to help her by furtheringher wishes. As she ran behind the screen, and, as far as sound couldinform me,--began frantically to disrobe herself of the warmdressing-gown and to don again the ice-cold wet shroud, I pulled back thecurtain from the window, and drew the bolt of the glass door. As I didso she was already behind me, shivering. As I threw open the door sheglided out with a swift silent movement, but trembling in an agonizedway. As she passed me, she murmured in a low voice, which was almostlost in the chattering of her teeth:
"Oh, thank you--thank you a thousand times! But I must go. I _must_! I_must_! I shall come again, and try to show my gratitude. Do notcondemn me as ungrateful--till then." And she was gone.
I watched her pass the length of the white path, flitting from shrub toshrub or statue as she had come. In the cold grey light of theundeveloped dawn she seemed even more ghostly than she had done in theblack shadow of the night.
When she disappeared from sight in the shadow of the wood, I stood on theterrace for a long time watching, in case I should be afforded anotherglimpse of her, for there was now no doubt in my mind that she had for mesome strange attraction. I felt even then that the look in thoseglorious starry eyes would be with me always so long as I might live.There was some fascination which went deeper than my eyes or my flesh ormy heart--down deep into the very depths of my soul. My mind was all ina whirl, so that I could hardly think coherently. It all was like adream; the reality seemed far away. It was not possible to doubt thatthe phantom figure which had been so close to me during the dark hours ofthe night was actual flesh and blood. Yet she was so cold, so cold!Altogether I could not fix my mind to either proposition: that it was aliving woman who had held my hand, or a dead body reanimated for the timeor the occasion in some strange manner.
The difficulty was too great for me to make up my mind upon it, even hadI wanted to. But, in any case, I did not want to. This would, no doubt,come in time. But till then I wished to dream on, as anyone does in adream which can still be blissful though there be pauses of pain, orghastliness, or doubt, or terror.
So I closed the window and drew the curtain again, feeling for the firsttime the cold in which I had stood on the wet marble floor of the terracewhen my bare feet began to get warm on the soft carpet. To get rid ofthe chill feeling I got into the bed on which _she_ had lain, and as thewarmth restored me tried to think coherently. For a short while I wasgoing over the facts of the night--or what seemed as facts to myremembrance. But as I continued to think, the possibilities of anyresult seemed to get less, and I found myself vainly trying to reconcilewith the logic of life the grim episode of the night. The effort provedto be too much for such concentration as was left to me; moreover,interrupted sleep was clamant, and would not be denied. What I dreamtof--if I dreamt at all--I know not. I only know that I was ready forwaking when the time came. It came with a violent knocking at my door.I sprang from bed, fully awake in a second, drew the bolt, and slippedback to bed. With a hurried "May I come in?" Aunt Janet entered. Sheseemed relieved when she saw me, and gave without my asking anexplanation of her perturbation:
"Oh, laddie, I hae been so uneasy aboot ye all the nicht. I hae haddreams an' veesions an' a' sorts o' uncanny fancies. I fear that--" Shewas by now drawing back the curtain, and as her eyes took in the marks ofwet all over the floor the current of her thoughts changed:
"Why, laddie, whativer hae ye been doin' wi' yer baith? Oh, the mess yehae made! 'Tis sinful to gie sic trouble an' waste . . . " And so shewent on. I was glad to hear the tirade, which was only what a goodhousewife, outraged in her sentiments of order, would have made. Ilistened in patience--with pleasure when I thought of what she would havethought (and said) had she known the real facts. I was well pleased tohave got off so easily.
RUPERT'S JOURNAL--_Continued_.
_April_ 10, 1907.
For some days after what I call "the episode" I was in a strangecondition of mind. I did not take anyone--not even Aunt Janet--intoconfidence. Even she dear, and open-hearted and liberal-minded as sheis, might not have understood well enough to be just and tolerant; and Idid not care to hear any adverse comment on my strange visitor. SomehowI could not bear the thought of anyone finding fault with her or in her,though, strangely enough, I was eternally defending her to myself; for,despite my wishes, embarrassing thoughts _would_ come again and again,and again in all sorts and variants of queries difficult to answer. Ifound myself defending her, sometimes as a woman hard pressed byspiritual fear and physical suffering, sometimes as not being amenable tolaws that govern the Living. Indeed, I could not make up my mind whetherI looked on her as a living human being or as one with some strangeexistence in another world, and having only a chance foothold in our own.In such doubt imagination began to work, and thoughts of evil, of danger,of doubt, even of fear, began to crowd on me with such persistence and insuch varied forms that I found my instinct of reticence growing into asettled purpose. The value of this instinctive precaution was promptlyshown by Aunt Janet's state of mind, with consequent revelation of it.She became full of gloomy prognostications and what I thought were morbidfears. For the first time in my life I discovered that Aunt Janet hadnerves! I had long had a secret belief that she was gifted, to somedegree at any rate, with Second Sight, which quality, or whatever it is,skilled in the powers if not the lore of superstition, manages to keep atstretch not only the mind of its immediate pathic, but of others relevantto it. Perhaps this natural quality had received a fresh impetus fromthe arrival of some cases of her books sent on by Sir Colin. Sheappeared to read and reread these works, which were chiefly on occultsubjects, day and night, except when she was imparting to me choiceexcerpts of the most baleful and fearsome kind. Indeed, before a weekwas over I found myself to be an expert in the history of the cult, aswell as in its manifestations, which latter I had been versed in for agood many years.