"May I see her?"
"No, Lord Walderhurst. Not yet."
"Does that mean that it is not yet the last moment?"
"If that moment had obviously arrived, you would be called."
"What must I do?"
"There is absolutely nothing to be done but to wait. Brent, Forsythe, and Blount are with her."
"I am in the position of knowing nothing. I must be told. Have you time to tell me?"
They went to Walderhurst"s study, the room which had been Emily"s holy of holies.
"Lady Walderhurst was very fond of sitting here alone," Dr. Warren remarked.
Walderhurst saw that she must have written letters at his desk. Her own pen and writing-tablet lay on it. She had probably had a fancy for writing her letters to himself in his own chair. It would be like her to have done it. It gave him a shock to see on a small table a thimble and a pair of scissors.
"I ought to have been told," he said to Dr. Warren.
Dr. Warren sat down and explained why he had not been told.
As he spoke, interest was awakened in his mind by the fact that Lord Walderhurst drew towards him the feminine writing-tablet and opened and shut it mechanically.
"What I want to know," he said, "is, if I shall be able to speak to her.
I should like to speak to her."
"That is what one most wants," was Dr. Warren"s non-committal answer, "at such a time."
"You think I may not be able to make her understand?"
"I am very sorry. It is impossible to know."
"This," slowly, "is very hard on me."
"There is something I feel I must tell you, Lord Walderhurst." Dr.
Warren kept a keen eye on him, having, in fact, felt far from attracted by the man in the past, and wondering how much he would be moved by certain truths, or if he would be moved at all. "Before Lady Walderhurst"s illness, she was very explicit with me in her expression of her one desire. She begged me to give her my word, which I could not have done without your permission, that whatsoever the circ.u.mstances, if life must be sacrificed, it should be hers."
A dusky red shot through Walderhurst"s leaden pallor.
"She asked you that?" he said.
"Yes. And at the worst she did not forget. When she became delirious, and we heard that she was praying, I gathered that she seemed to be praying to me, as to a deity whom she implored to remember her fervent pleading. When her brain was clear she was wonderful. She saved your son by supernatural endurance."
"You mean to say that if she had cared more for herself and less for the safety of the child she need not have been as she is now?"
Warren bent his head.
Lord Walderhurst"s eyegla.s.s had been dangling weakly from its cord. He picked it up and stuck it in his eye to stare the doctor in the face.
The action was a singular, spasmodic, hard one. But his hands were shaking.
"By G.o.d!" he cried out, "if I had been here it should not have been so!"
He got up and supported himself against the table with the shaking hands.
"It is very plain," he said, "that she has been willing to be torn to pieces upon the rack to give me the thing I wanted. And now, good G.o.d in heaven, I feel that I would have strangled the boy with my own hands rather than lose her."
In this manner, it seemed, did a rigid, self-encased, and conventional elderly n.o.bleman reach emotion. He looked uncanny. His stiff dignity hung about him in rags and tatters. Cold sweat stood on his forehead and his chin twitched.
"Just now," he poured forth, "I don"t care whether there is a child or not. I want her--I care for nothing else. I want to look at her, I want to speak to her, whether she is alive or dead. But if there is a spark of life in her, I believe she will hear me."
Dr. Warren sat and watched him, wondering. He knew curious things of the human creature, things which most of his confreres did not know. He knew that Life was a mysterious thing, and that even a dying flame of it might sometimes be fanned to flickering anew by powers more subtle than science usually regards as applicable influences. He knew the nature of the half-dead woman lying on her bed upstairs, and he comprehended what the soul of her life had been,--her divinely innocent pa.s.sion for a self-centred man. He had seen it in the tortured courage of her eyes in hours of mortal agony.
"Don"t forget," she had said. "Our Father which art in Heaven. Don"t let anyone forget. Hallowed be thy name."
The man, leaning upon his shaking hands before him, stood there, for these moments at least, a harrowed thing. Not a single individual of his acquaintance would have known him.
"I want to see her before the breath leaves her," he gave forth in a harsh, broken whisper. "I want to speak. Let me see her."
Dr. Warren left his chair slowly. Out of a thousand chances against her, might this one chance be for her,--the chance of her hearing, and being called back to the sh.o.r.es she was drifting from, by this stiff, conventional fellow"s voice. There was no knowing the wondrousness of a loving human thing, even when its shackles were loosening themselves to set it free.
"I will speak to those in charge with me," he said. "Will you control every outward expression of feeling?"
"Yes."
Adjoining Lady Walderhurst"s sleeping apartment was a small boudoir where the medical men consulted together. Two of them were standing near the window conversing in whispers.
Walderhurst merely nodded and went to wait apart by the fire. Ceremony had ceased to exist. Dr. Warren joined the pair at the window. Lord Walderhurst only heard one or two sentences.
"I am afraid that nothing, now, can matter--at any moment."
Those who do not know from experience what he saw when he entered the next room have reason to give thanks to such powers as they put trust in.
There ruled in the large, dim chamber an awful order and silence. The faint flickering of the fire was a marked sound. There was no other but a fainter and even more irregular one heard as one neared the bed.
Sometimes it seemed to stop, then, with a weak gasp, begin again. A nurse in uniform stood in waiting; an elderly man sat on a chair at the bedside, listening and looking at his watch, something white and lifeless lying in his grasp,--Emily Walderhurst"s waxen, unmoving hand.
The odour of antiseptics filled the nostrils. Lord Walderhurst drew near. The speaking sign of the moment was that neither nurse nor doctor stirred.
Emily lay low upon a pillow. Her face was as bloodless as wax and was a little turned aside. The Shadow was hovering over it and touched her closed lids and the droop of her cheek and corners of her mouth. She was far, far away.
This was what Walderhurst felt first,--the strange remoteness, the lonely stillness of her. She had gone alone far from the place he stood in, and which they two familiarly knew. She was going, alone, farther still. As he stood and watched her closed eyes,--the nice, easily pleased eyes,--it was they themselves, closed on him and all prosaic things and pleasures, which filled him most strangely with that sense of her loneliness, weirdly enough, _hers_, not his. He was not thinking of himself but of her. He wanted to withdraw her from her loneliness, to bring her back.
He knelt down carefully, making no sound, stealthily, not removing his eyes from her strange, aloof face. He slowly dared to close his hand on hers which lay outside the coverlet. And it was a little chill and damp,--a little chill.
A power, a force which hides itself in human things and which most of them know not of, was gathering within him. He was warm and alive, a living man; his hand as it closed on the chill of hers was warm; his newly awakened being sent heat to it.