"It was instead of the Seine. That was the excuse I made to myself. But the wind blows it away. It blows everything away--everything, everything.... Don"t be angry again like that, Annette. Promise me you won"t. You were too angry, and I took a mean advantage of it.... I once took advantage of a man"s anger with a horse, but it brought me no luck. I thought I wouldn"t do it again, but I did. And I haven"t got much out of it this time either. I"m dying, or something like it. I"m going away for good and all. I"m so tired I don"t know how I shall ever get there."
"Rest a little, d.i.c.k. Don"t talk any more now."
"I want to give you a tip before I go. An old trainer put me up to it, and he made me promise not to tell anyone, and I haven"t till now. But I want to do you a good turn to make up for the bad one. He said he"d never known it fail, and I haven"t either. I"ve tried it scores of times. When you"re angry, Annette, look at a cloud." d.i.c.k"s blue eyes were fixed with a great earnestness on hers. "Not just for a minute.
Choose a good big one, like a lot of cotton wool, and go on looking at it while it moves. And the anger goes away. Sounds rot, doesn"t it? But you simply can"t stay angry. Seems as if everything were too small and footling to matter. Try it, Annette. Don"t look at water any more.
That"s no use. But a cloud--the bigger the better.... You won"t drown yourself now, will you?"
"No."
"Annette rolling down to the sea over and over, knocking against the bridges. I can"t bear to think of it. Promise me."
"I promise."
He sighed, and his hand fell out of hers. She laid it down. The great wind of which he spoke had taken him once more, whither he knew not.
She leaned her face against the pillow and longed that she too might be swept away whither she knew not.
The doctor came in and looked at them.
"Are his family coming soon?" he asked Mrs. Stoddart afterwards. "And Madame Le Geyt! Can Madame"s mother be summoned? There has been some great shock. Her eyes show it. It is not only Monsieur who is on the verge of the precipice."
CHAPTER V
"And he the wind-whipped, any whither wave Crazily tumbled on a shingle-grave To waste in foam."
GEORGE MEREDITH.
Towards evening d.i.c.k regained consciousness.
"Annette." That was always the first word.
"Here." That was always the second.
"I lost the way back," he said breathlessly. "I thought I should never find it, but I had to come."
He made a little motion with his hand, and she took it.
"You must help me. I have no one but you."
His eyes dwelt on her. His helpless soul clung to hers, as hers did to his. They were like two shipwrecked people--were they not indeed shipwrecked?--cowering on a raft together, alone, in the great ring of the sea.
"What can I do?" she said. "Tell me, and I will do it."
"I have made no provision for Mary or--the little one. I promised her I would when it was born. But I haven"t done it. I thought of it when I fell on my head. But when I was better next day I put it off. I always put things off.... And it"s not only Mary. There"s Hulver, and the Scotch property, and all the rest. If I die without making a will it will all go to poor Harry." He was speaking rapidly, more to himself than to her. "And when father was dying he said, "Roger ought to have it." Father was a just man. And I like Roger, and he"s done his duty by the place, which I haven"t. He _ought_ to have it. Annette, help me to make my will. I was on my way to the lawyer"s to make it when I met you on the bridge."
Half an hour later, in the waning day, the notary arrived, and d.i.c.k made his will in the doctor"s presence. His mind was amazingly clear.
"Is he better?" asked Mrs. Stoddart of the doctor, as she and the nurse left the room.
"Better! It is the last flare up of the lamp," said the doctor. "He is right when he says he shan"t get back here again. He is riding his last race, but he is riding to win."
d.i.c.k rode for all he was worth, and urged the doctor to help him, to keep his mind from drifting away into the unknown.
The old doctor thrust out his under lip and did what he could.
By d.i.c.k"s wish, Annette remained in the room, but he did not need her.
His French was good enough. He knew exactly what he wanted. The notary was intelligent, and brought with him a draft for d.i.c.k"s signature. d.i.c.k dictated and whispered earnestly to him.
"Oui, oui," said the notary at intervals. "Parfaitement. Monsieur peut se fier a moi."
At last it was done, and d.i.c.k, panting, had made a kind of signature, his writing dwindling down to a faint scrawl after the words "Richard Le Geyt," which were fairly legible.
The doctor attested it.
"She must witness it too," said d.i.c.k insistently, pointing to Annette.
The notary glanced at the will, realized that she was not a legatee, and put the pen in her hand, showing her where to sign.
"Madame will write here."
He indicated the place under his own crabbed signature.
She wrote mechanically her full name: _Annette Georges_.
"But, madame," said the notary, bewildered, "is not then Madame"s name the same as Monsieur"s?"
"Madame is so lately married that she sometimes signs her old name by mistake," said the doctor, smiling sadly. He took a pained interest in the young couple, especially in Annette.
"I am not Monsieur"s wife," said Annette.
The notary stared, bowed, and gathered up his papers. The doctor busied himself with the sick man, spent and livid on his pillow.
"Approach then, madame," he said, with a great respect. "It is you Monsieur needs." And he withdrew with the notary.
Annette groped her way to the bed. The room had become very dark. The floor rose in long waves beneath her feet, but she managed to reach the bed and sink down beside it.
What matter now if she were tired. She had done what he asked of her.
She had not failed him. What matter if she sank deeper still, down and down, as she was sinking now.
"Annette." d.i.c.k"s voice was almost extinct.
"Here."
"The wind is coming again. Across the sea, across the mountains, over the plains. It is the wind of the desert. Can"t you hear it?"