第168章 Mors Janua Vitae (1)

Therefore to whom turn I but to Thee, the ineffable Name?

Builder and maker Thou, of houses not made with hands!

What, have fear of change from Thee who art ever the same?

Doubt that thy power can fill the heart that Thy power expands?

And what is our failure here but a triumph's evidence For the fullness of the days? Have we withered or agonized?

Why else was the pause prolonged but that singing might issue thence?

Why rushed the discords in, but that harmony should be prized? R.Browning Early on the Monday morning three anxious-looking travelers arrived by the first train from London, and drove as fast as might be to the Park Hotel at Ashborough.They were evidently expected for the moment their cab stopped a door on one of the upper floors was opened, and some one ran quickly down the stairs to meet them.

"Is he better?" asked Aunt Jean.

Erica shook her head and, indeed, her face told them much more than the brief words of the telegram.She was deathly white, and had that weighed-down look which people wear when they have watched all night beside one who is hovering between life and death.She seemed to recover herself a little as her hand rested for a moment in Brian's.

"He has been asking for you," she said."Do go to him.The faintness has quite passed off, and they say inflammation has set in; he is in frightful pain."Her lips grew a shade whiter as she spoke and, with an effort, she seemed to turn away from some horrible recollection.

"There is some breakfast ready for you in here," she said to her aunt."You must have something before you see him.Oh, I am so glad you have come, auntie!"Aunt Jean kissed her and cried a little; trouble always brought these two together however much they disagreed at other times.Tom did not say a word, but began to cut a loaf to pieces as though they had the very largest appetites; the great pile of slices lay untouched on the trencher, but the cutting had served its purpose of a relief to his pent-up feelings.

Later on there was a consultation of doctors; their verdict was perhaps a little more hopeful than Erica had dared to expect.Her father had received a fearful internal injury and was in the greatest danger, but there was still a chance that he might recover, it was just possible; and knowing how his constitution had rallied when every one had thought him dying three years before, she grew very hopeful.Without hope she could hardly have got through those days for the suffering was terrible.She hardly knew which she dreaded most, the nights of fever and delirium when groans of anguish came from the writhing lips, or the days with their clear consciousness when her father never uttered a word of complaint but just silently endured the torture, replying always, if questioned as to the pain, "It's bearable."His great strength and vigor made it seem all the more piteous that he should now be lying in the very extremity of suffering, unable to bear even the weight of the bed clothes.But all through that weary time his fortitude never gave way, and the vein of humor which had stood him in such good stead all his life did not fail him even now.On the Monday when he was suffering torments, they tried the application of leeches.One leech escaped, and they had a great hunt for it, Raeburn astonishing them all by coming out with one of his quaint flashes of wit and positively making them laugh in spite of their anxiety and sorrow.

The weary days dragged on, the torture grew worse, opium failed to deaden the pain, and sleep, except in the very briefest snatches, was impossible.But at last on the Thursday morning a change set in, the suffering became less intense; they knew, however, that it was only because the end was drawing near and the life energy failing.

For the second time Sir John Larkom came down from London to see the patient, but every one knew that there was nothing to be done.

Even Erica began to understand that the time left was to be measured only by hours.She learned it in a few words which Sir John Larkom said to Donovan on the stairs.She was in her own room with the door partly open, eagerly waiting for permission to go back to her father.

"Oh, it's all up with the poor fellow," she heard the London doctor say."A wonderful constitution; most men would not have held out so long."At the time the words did not convey any very clear meaning to Erica; she felt no very sharp pang as she repeated the sentence to herself; there was only a curious numb feeling at her heart and a sort of dull consciousness that she must move, must get away somewhere, do something active.It was at first almost a relief to her when Donovan returned and knocked at her door.

"I am afraid we ought to come to the court," he said."They will, I am sure, take your evidence as quickly as possible."She remembered then that the man Drosser was to be brought up before the magistrates that morning; she and Donovan had to appear as witnesses of the assault.She went into her father's room before she started; he had specially asked to see her.He was quite clear-minded and calm, and began to speak in a voice which, though weak and low, had the old musical ring about it.

"You are going to give evidence, Eric," he said, holding her hand in his."Now, I don't forgive that fellow for having robbed me of life, but one must be just even to one's foes.They will ask you if you ever saw Drosser before; you will have to tell them of that scene at Greyshot, and you must be sure to say that I said, as we drove off: 'No doubt the poor fellow is half-witted.' Those were my words, do you remember?""Yes," she said, repeating the words after him at his request."Iremember quite well."