by E. F. Benson
CHAPTER X
All the evening and all night long the gale continued. Now and then theconstant scream of it would leap upwards a couple of octaves as ashriller blast struck the houses and again for a moment the mad chantwould drop into silence. From time to time like a tattoo of drums therain battered at the window-panes, but through it all, whether in hushesof the wind or when its fiercest squall descended, the beat of the surfsounded ever louder. And all through the night, the result perhaps ofhis agitated talk with Nadine in the morning, or of his intimategale-encompassed isolation with her in the afternoon, Hugh turned andtossed midway between sleeping and waking. Sometimes he seemed tohimself to be yelling round the house among the spirits of the airseeking admittance, sometimes it seemed to him that he was being beatenon by the hammer of the surf, and whether he was homelessly wanderingoutside among the spirits of the wind, or was being done to death bythose incessant blows of the beating waves, it was Nadine that hesought. And as the night went on the anguish of his desire grew evermore acute, and the beating of the waves a more poignant torture, untilwhile yet no faintest lightening of winter's dawn had touched the grossblackness of the night, he roused himself completely, and sat up in bedand turned on his light.
To him awake the riot outside was vastly magnified compared with thedimmer trouble of his dream; so was his yearning for Nadine. His windowslooked eastwards away from the quarter of the gale, and getting out ofbed, he lifted a sash, and peered out. Nothing whatever could be seen;it was as if he gazed into the darkness of the nethermost pit, out ofwhich blown by the blast of the anger of God came the shrieks of soulsthat might not rest, driven forever along, drenched by the river oftheir unavailing tears. Even though he was awake the strange remotehorror of nightmare was on him, and it was in vain that he tried tocomfort himself, by saying, like some child repeating a senselesslesson, "A deep depression has reached us traveling eastwards from theAtlantic." He tried to read, but still the nightmare-sense possessedhim, and he fancied he had to read a whole line, neither more nor less,between the poundings of the waves. Then as usually happens towards theend of these Walpurgis nights, he got back to bed again, and sleptcalmly and dreamlessly.
He and Seymour alone out of the party put in an appearance at breakfasttime: it seemed probable that the others were compensating themselvesfor a disturbed night by breakfasting upstairs, and afterwards the twowent out together to look at the doings of the night. By this time thewind had considerably moderated, the rain had ceased altogether, and thethick pall of cloud that had last night overlain the sky was split upinto fragments and islands, and flying vapors, so that here and therepale shafts of sunlight shone upon land and sea. But the thunder of thesurf had immeasurably increased, and when they went to the cliff-edgewhich he and Nadine had passed down yesterday afternoon, they lookedupon an indescribable confusion of tremendous waters. The tide was low,but the bay was still packed with the sea heaped-up by the wind, and theend of the reef with its big scattered rocks was out beyond the walls ofbreaking water. The sea appeared to have been driven distraught by thestress of the night; cross currents carried the waves in all directions:it almost seemed that some, shrinking from the wall of cliff in front,were trying to beat out to sea again. Quite out, away from land, theyjousted and sparred with each other, not jestingly, but, it seemed, withsome grim purpose, as if they were practising their strength for deedsof earnest violence, as for some fierce civil war among themselves. Itwas round the furthest rocks of the reef that this sport of billowygiants most centered: right across the bay ran some current that set onto the end of the reef, and there it met with the waves coming straightin-shore from the direction of the blowing of the gale. Then theyspouted and foamed together, yet not in play: some purpose, so regularwere these rounds of combat, seemed to underlie their wrestlings.
Hugh threw away a charred peninsula of paper, once a cigarette, whichthe wind had smoked for him. He never had felt much sense ofcomradeship in the presence of Seymour, and their after-breakfast strollhad no more virtue than was the reward of necessary politeness.
"There is something rather senseless in this display of wasted energy,"said Seymour. "Each of those waves would probably cook a dinner, if itsforce was reasonably employed."
Hugh, in spite of his restless night, had something of Nadine's thrilledadmiration for the turmoil, and felt slightly irritated.
"They would certainly cook your goose or mine," he remarked.
Seymour wondered whether it would be well to say, "Do you allude toNadine as our goose?" but, perhaps wisely, refrained.
"That would be to the good," he said. "Goose is a poor bird at any time,but uneatable unless properly roasted."
Hugh did not attend to this polite rejoinder, for he had caught sight ofsomething incredible not so far out at sea, and he focused his eyesinstantly on it. For the moment, what he thought he had seen completelyvanished; directly afterwards he caught sight of it again, afishing-boat with mast broken, reeling drunkenly on the top of a hugewave. His quick, long-sighted eye told him in that one moment of slewingdeck that it presented to them, before it was swallowed from sight inthe trough of the next wave, that there were two figures on it, clingingto the stump of the broken mast.
"Look," he said, "there is a boat out there."
It rose again to the crest of a wave and again plunged giddily out ofsight. The incoming tide was bearing it swiftly shorewards, swiftly alsothe cross-current that set towards the end of the reef was bearing itthere.
Hugh did not pause. He laid hold of Seymour by the shoulder.
"Run up to the house," he said, "and fetch a couple of men. Bring downwith you as much rope as you can find. Don't say anything to Nadine andthe women. But be quick."
He ran down to the beach himself, as Seymour went on his errand, seeingat once that there were two things that might happen to this strickenwanderer of a ship. In one case, the incoming tide with its followingwaves might bear it straight on to the sandy beach; in the other thecross-current, in which now it was laboring, might carry it across tothe reef where the waves were wrestling and roaring together. It was incase of this first contingency that he ran down upon the sands to beready. The beach was steep there: it would ride it until it was flungdown by that fringe of toppling, hard-edged breakers. In that tumble andscurry of surf it might easily be that strong arms could drag out of thefury of the backwash whatever was cast there. The boat, a deckedfishing-boat, would be dumped down on the sand: there would be ahalf-minute, or a quarter-minute, when something might be done. On theother hand this greedy sucking current might carry it on to the reef.Then, by the mercy of God, a rope might be of some avail, if a man couldreach them.
As he ran down the cliff, a sudden splash of sunlight broke through theclouds, making a bright patch of illumination round the boat as it swungover another breaker. There was only one figure there now, lying fulllength on the deck, and clinging with both hands to the stump of themast. Then once again the water broke over it, lucidly green in thesunlight, and all Hugh's heart went out to that solitary prone body,lying there helpless in the hands of God and the gale. His heart stoodstill to see whether when next the drifting boat reappeared it would betenantless, and with a sob in his throat, "Oh, thank God," he said, whenhe saw it again.
It was still doubtful whether the current or the tide would win, andHugh pulled off his coat and waistcoat, and threw them on the beach, inorder to be able to rush in unimpeded of hand and muscle. Then with astrange sickness of heart, he saw that the boat was getting in nearer,but moving sideways across to the left, where the reef lay. And hewaited, in the suspense of powerlessness. The wind now had quite abated;it was as if it had done its work, in making ready this theater ofplunging water; now waited to observe what drama should be moving acrossthe stage of billows.
Soon from behind, he heard across the shingle at the top of the beachthe approach of the others. Seymour had brought Berts and two men withhim, and they brought with them half-a-dozen long coils of rope, partof the fire-
rescue apparatus of the house. While watching and waitingfor them, his plan was quite made. It was no longer possible to hopethat the boat would come to land on the sandy beach, where without doubttwo or three able-bodied men could rescue any one cast up, but wasdriving straight on to the rocks. Once there, rescue was all butimpossible; the only chance lay in reaching it before it was smashed toatoms on the immense boulders and sharp-toothed fangs. Quickly he tiedthree of the ropes together, and fastened the end round his body justbelow the shoulders, and took off his boots.
"I'm going in," he said; "you all hold the rope and pay it out. If Icome near the end of it, tie a fresh piece on--"
Suddenly across the shingle came footsteps, and a cry. Nadine ran downthe beach towards them. She was clad only in a dressing-gown, thatrainbow-hued one in which one night last June she had entertained acompany in her bedroom, and slippers so that her ankles showed white andbare. She saw what Hugh intended, and something within her, some denizenof her soul, who till that moment had been unknown to her, tookpossession of her.
"No, Hughie, not you, not you," she screamed. "Seymour, anybody, but notyou!"
The cry had come from her very heart; she could no more have stifled itthan she could have stopped the beating of it. Then, suddenly, sherealized what she had said, and sank down on the beach, burying her facein her hands.
"Take care of her, Seymour," said Hugh, and there was more heroismrequired for these few little words, than for the desperate feat he wasabout to attempt. He did not look round again, nor wish to say anythingmore, and there was no time to lose.
"Now, you chaps!" he called out, and ran forward to the edge of thewater.
At the moment an immense billow poised and curled just in front of him.The wash of it covered him waist-deep and he floundered and staggered asthe rush of water went by him. Then as it drew out to sea again he ranwith it, to where another breaker was toppling in front of him. With alow outward spring he dived into the hollowed water head foremost andpassed through it.
The beach was very steep here, and coming up again through and beyondthe line of surf, he found himself in deep water. Behind him lay thebreaking line of billows, but in front the huge mountains of water roseand fell unbroken. As he was lifted up on the first of these, swimmingstrongly against it, he saw not a hundred yards from him his helplessand drifting goal. He could see, too, who it was who lay there,desperately clinging to the stump of the mast with white slender wrists;it was quite a young boy. And at that sight, Hugh's pity anddetermination were strung higher than ever. Here was a young creature,in desperate plight among these desperate waterways, one who should notyet have known what peril meant. And at the risk of spending a littlestrength, when strength was so valuable, Hugh gave a great shout ofnotice and encouragement. Then he was swallowed up in the trough of awave again. But when he rose next, he saw that the boy had raised hishead, and that he saw him.
The current that swept towards the rocks, swept also a littleshorewards, and Hugh measuring the distance between the boat and thefatal breakers with his eye, and measuring again the distance betweenthe boat and himself, knew that he must exert himself to the point ofexhaustion to get to the boat before it was drifted to its finaldestruction. But as he swam he knew he had made a mistake in not takingoff his shirt and trousers also and giving himself an unimpeded use ofhis limbs. His trousers particularly dragged and hampered him; thensuddenly he remembered a water-game at which he used to be expert atschool, namely taking a header into the bathing-place in flannels andundressing in the water. It seemed worth while to sacrifice a fewseconds to accomplish that, and, as cool and collected as when he wasdoing it for mere sport at school, he trod water, slipped his legs outof his trousers, and saw them float away from him. Then twice asvigorous, he struck out again. His shirt did not bother him: besides,the rope was tied round his chest, and there was not time for moredisencumbrances.
For the next five minutes, for he was fighting the tide, he just swamand swam. Occasionally rising to a wave it seemed to him that he wasmaking no headway at all, but somehow that did not discourage him. Theonly necessity that concerned him was that he must go till he could gono longer. And all the time, like a dream and yet like a draught of wineto him was Nadine's involuntary cry, "No, Hughie, not you!" He did nottrouble to guess what that meant. He was only conscious that itinvigorated and inspired him.
The minutes passed; once the rope seemed to jerk him back, and he foundhimself swearing underneath his breath. Then, though it was terriblyheavy, he realized that it was free again, and that he was not beinghampered. Then he suddenly found himself much closer to the boat than hehad any idea of, and this, though he was getting very tired, gave him anew supply of nervous force. He swam into three valleys more, hesurmounted three ridges of water, and lo, the boat was on the peaksdirectly opposite to him, and from opposite sides they plunged into thesame valley together. Not fifty yards off to the left, incrediblefountains of foam spouted and aspired.
Then, oh, blessed moment! he caught hold of the side of the lurchingfishing-smack, and a pale little boyish frightened face was close tohis. He clung for a second to the side, and they went up and down twobig billows together. Then he got breath enough to speak.
"Now, little chap," he said, "don't be frightened, for we're all right.Catch hold of the rope here, close to my body, and just jump in. Yes,that's right. Plucky boy! Take hold with both hands of the rope. Not socold, is it?"
Once again, before he let go of the boat, they rose to an immense wallof water, and Hugh saw the figures on the beach, four of them standingin the wash of the sea, paying out the rope, and one standing there alsoa little apart waving seawards, clapping her hands. And what she saidcame to him clear and distinct across the hills and valleys ofdestruction.
"Oh, Hughie, well done, well done!" she cried.
"Now pull, all of you, pull him in!"
He was glad she added that, for in the hurry of the moment he had givenno instructions as to what they were to do when he reached the boat; andwhat seemed so obvious out here might not have seemed so obvious tothose on the beach, and he was not sure that there was enough power leftin him to shout to them. But Nadine understood: once she had said sheunderstood him too well. It was enough now that she understood himenough.
He let go of the boat. For a moment it seemed inclined to follow them,and he thought the bowsprit was going to hit him. Then he felt a littlepull on the rope under his shoulders, and the boat made a sort of bow offarewell, and slid away towards the spouting towers of foam. Hugh wasutterly exhausted: he could just paddle with a hand or kick downwards tokeep his head above water, but he gave away one breath yet.
"Nothing to be frightened at," he said. "We're all right now."
The buoyant water, for all the wickedness of its foam and savage hunger,sustained him sufficiently. He turned round seawards in the water sothat the great surges did not overwhelm him from behind, and put an armon the rope underneath the boy's neck, so as to support them both. Heforced himself even in his utter weariness to be collected and toremember that for several minutes yet there was nothing whatever to bedone, except with the minimum possible of exertion to keep afloat, whilethe rope towed them back towards that line of steep towers and curlingprecipices beyond which lay the shore, and those who stood on the shore.Sometimes the crest of a wave broke over them, almost smothering him,but then again they found themselves on a downward hillside of water,where the panting lungs could be satisfied, and the laboring heartsupplied. Somewhere inside of him he knew he wanted to know where thispoor foundered fishing-smack had come from and how this young boy hadmanaged to cling to it, but he had not sufficient strength to give voiceto his desire, for all that he had must be husbanded to meet that finalassault of the row of breakers through which they had to pass.
And as they got nearer, he began to form his plan. This young unknownlife, precious to him now as an unborn baby to a woman, was given intohis charge. It seemed to him that, as a woman has to bring the lifewithin her to birth
whatever it costs her, so he had to save the life ofthis unknown little fisher-boy, and take all risks himself. Whatever laybeyond that line of breakers, his business was here, and he did not forone second argue the values. He did not forget Nadine nor her last cryto him as he set forth on his peril, but for the moment there wassomething that concerned him even more than Nadine, and he had to makethe best plans he could for saving this young life that had been put inhis hands, even if he fought God over it. The only question was how toget the best chance of saving it.
They were close in now, and this three-minute pause of floating hadrestored him. He was just conscious of bitter cold, even as he wasconscious of the group on the edge of the sand, and of the hissingwaters. But none of these things seemed to have anything to do with him;they were but external phenomena. Between him and the shore were stillthree towering lines of breakers, sharp-edged and steep as rocks: thethird of these suddenly fumbled and disappeared with a thick thud, andan uprising of shattered spray. And suddenly his plan proved itself,fully-finished to his mind.
He had been swimming for not more than a quarter of an hour, and theminutes of that fierce outward struggle which had seemed so long to himhad to Nadine passed in a flash. For once she had got completely outsideherself, and, concentrated and absorbed in another, the time had gone byin one flare of triumphant expectation. For one moment after thatheart's cry had been flung out of her she had sat dazed and bewilderedby the consciousness that it seemed to have revealed to her, for untilshe had cried out that Seymour, that anybody but Hugh, must make thedesperate attempt, she had not known her own heart, nor could she have,for it was not till then that it was unlocked to herself. When shelooked up again Hugh had already plunged through the breakers, and wasswimming, and instantly her soul was with him there in the inhuman sea,glorying in his strength, proud of the splendid and desperate adventure,and not for one moment doubtful of its success. None but he, she felt,could do it, and it was impossible that he should fail. She would nothave had him back by her side saying that the attempt was mere suicide,for all the happiness that the world contained, and had she been able tochange places with the boy who clung to the helpless boat, she wouldhave sprung ecstatic to the noble risk, for the sake of having Hughbattle the seas on his way to rescue her. Failing that, it had beengloriously ordained that he should do this, and that she should standwith heart uplifted and be privileged to see the triumphant venture. Shesaw him reach the boat, knowing that he would, and clapped her hands andcalled to him, and with bright eyes and laughing mouth she eagerlywatched him getting nearer. Then, just at the moment when Hugh made hisplan, she realized that between him and her there lay that precipice ofwater that kept flinging itself down in thunder on the shore, and everre-forming again. And the light died out of her face, and she grew ashengray to the lips and watched.
Hugh had been floating with his face seawards. Now he turned round tothe shore again. She saw him smile at the boy, as they rose on the crestof a wave, and she saw him speak.
"Now we're all right," was what he said. "Get on my back, and hold on tomy shoulders."
The rope had ceased to pull. The men in control of it just held it taut,waiting to pull when the exact moment came. The boy did as he was told,and next moment the two rose up on the crest of the line of breakers.Twenty feet below him as they topped it, Hugh looked over upon thebackwash of the preceding wave which was being dragged into the billowwhich bore them and was growing higher as it rose to its ruin. But theboy's fall would be broken: at least this plan seemed to give the bestchance.
Then the wave curled, and he was flung forwards, twisting as he fell. Hesaw the slim little figure he had been carrying shot over his shoulder,and flung clear of the direct impact of the wave on the beach, and heheard his mind say, "That won't hurt him."
Then he felt something stupendous, as heavy as the world, strike him onthe back. After that he felt nothing more at all.
* * * * *
As dusk was closing in, Nadine sat in the window of her bigblack-painted bedroom, where so many well-attended sessions had beenheld. Hugh had been in the surgeon's hands since they carried him in,and all that could be done had been done. Afterwards Nadine had seen thesurgeon, and learned from him all there was to fear and the little therewas to hope for. It was possible that Hugh might not live till themorning, but simply pass away from the shock of his injuries. On theother hand his splendid constitution might pull him through that. Butgiven that he lived through the immediate danger, it was doubtful if hecould ever lead an active life again. The boy he had saved waspractically unhurt, and was fast asleep.
Nadine sat there very quiet both in mind and body. She did not want torave or rebel, she merely let her mind sit, as it were, in front ofthese things, and contemplate them, like a picture, until they becamefamiliar. She felt they were not familiar yet; though she knew them tobe true, they were somehow unreal and incredible. She did not yet graspthem: it seemed to her that her mind was stunned and was incapable ofapprehending them. So she had to keep her attention fixed on them, untilthey became real. Yet she found it difficult to control her mind: itkept wandering off into concentric circles round the center of the onlysignificant thing in the world.
Out on the sea the sun had set, and there were cloud-bars of fadingcrimson on the horizon level across a field of saffron yellow. Thisyellow toned off into pale watery green, and high up in the middle ofthat was one little cloud like an island that still blazed in thesunlight of the upper air. Somehow that aroused a train ofhalf-forgotten reminiscences. There had been a patch of sunlight oncelike an island, on the gray of the sea ... it was connected with apicture ... yes, it was a sketch which Esther had made for Hugh, and shehad put in the island reluctantly, saying it looked unreal in nature andwould be worse in art. But Hugh had wanted it there, and, as Estherworked, she herself had walked with him along the beach from which hehad been carried up to-day, and she had told him that he lived inunrealities, and pictured to himself that some day he and she would liveon some golden sunlit island together. She remembered it all now.
Her mind came back to the center again, and started off anew on thatsplendid deed of the morning. She had quite lost her head when shecalled out, "No, Hughie, not you!" It must have been Hugh to do it, noone else could have done it. The idea of Berts or Seymour wrestling withand overcoming that mountainous and maddened sea was unthinkable. OnlyHugh could have done it, and the deed was as much part of him as hisbrown eyes or his white strong teeth. And if at the end the sea hadflung him down and broken him, that was after he had laughed at theperil and snatched its prey out of its very jaws! Even as things werenow with him, Nadine could not regret what he had done, and if time hadrun back, and she saw him again plunging into that riot and turmoil, shefelt that she would not now cry out to him like that. She would havecalled Godspeed to him instead.
Once again her mind rippled away from its center. She had called out toSeymour or Berts to go. At the time it had been quite instinctive, butshe saw now what had prompted her instinct. She meant--though then shedid not know she meant it--that she could spare any one but Hugh. Thatwas what it came to, and she wondered if Hugh had understood that.Seymour without doubt must have done so: he was so clever. Probably hewould tell her he understood, and ask her if it was not that which wasimplied. But all such consideration seemed to her to matter very little.There was only one thing that mattered, and that was not whether Hughlived or died even, but simply the fact of Hugh.
Her mother had telegraphed that she was coming at once; and Nadineremembering that she had not told the servants got up and rang the bell.But before it was answered there came an interruption for which she hadbeen waiting. One of the two nurses whom the surgeon from Chester hadbrought with him knocked at the door. She had been tidying up, andremoving all traces of what had been done.
"The room is neat again now," she said, "and you may come and just lookat him."
"Is he conscious or in pain?" asked Nadine.
"No; but he may regain consciousness at any time, but I don't think hewill have any pain."
They went together up the long silent passages in which there hung thatcurious hush which settles down on a house when death is hovering by it,and came to his door which stood ajar. Then from some sudden qualm andweakness of flesh, Nadine halted, shrinking from entering.
"Do not come unless you feel up to it," said Nurse Bryerley. "But thereis nothing that will shock you."
Nadine hesitated no more, but entered.
They had carried him not to his own room, but to another with adressing-room adjoining. His bed stood along the wall to the left ofthe door, and he lay on his back with his head a little sideways towardsit. There was nothing in the room that suggested illness, and whenNadine looked at his face there was nothing there that suggested iteither. His eyes were closed, but his face was as untroubled as that ofsome quiet sleeper. In the wall opposite were the western-lookingwindows and the room was lit only by that fast-fading splendor. Thecloud-island still hung in the sky, but it had turned gray as the lightleft it.
Then even as Nadine looked at him, his eyes opened and he saw her.
"Nadine," he said.
The nurse stepped to the bedside.
"Ah, you are awake again," she said. "How do you feel?"
"Rather tired. But I want to speak to Nadine."
"Yes, you can speak to her," she said and signed to the girl to come.
Nadine came across the room to him, and knelt down.
"Oh, Hughie," she said, "well done!"
He looked at her, puzzled for the moment, with troubled eyes.
"You said that before," he said. "It was the last thing you said. Whydid you--oh, I remember now. Yes, what a bang I came! How's the littlefellow, the one on my back?"
"Quite unhurt, Hughie. He is asleep."
"I thought he wouldn't be hurt. It was the best plan I could think of.I say, why did you call to me not to go at first? I had to."
"I know now you had to," said she.
"I want to ask you something else. How badly am I hurt?"
Nadine looked up at the nurse a moment, who nodded to her. Sheunderstood exactly what that meant.
"You are very badly hurt, dear Hughie," she said; "But--but it is worthit fifty times over."
Hugh was silent a moment.
"Am I going to die?" he asked.
Nadine did not need instruction about this.
"No, a thousand times, no!" she said. "You're going to get quite well.But you must be patient and rest and sleep."
Nadine's throat grew suddenly small and aching, and she could not findher voice for a moment.
"You are quite certainly going to live," she said. "To begin with, Ican't spare you!"
Hugh's eyelids fluttered and quivered.
"By Jove!" he said, and next moment they had quite closed.
The nurse signed to Nadine to get up and she rose very softly andtiptoed away. At the door she looked round once at Hugh, but already hewas asleep. Then still softly she came back and kissed him on theforehead and was gone again.
She had been with him but a couple of minutes, but as she went back toher room, she heard the stir of arrivals in the hall, and went down.Dodo had that moment arrived.
"Nadine, my dear," she said, "I started the moment I got your telegram.Tell me all you can. How is he? How did it happen? You only said he hadhad a bad accident, and wanted me."
Nadine kissed her.
"Oh! Mama," she said. "Thank God it wasn't an accident. It was done onpurpose. He meant it just like that. But you don't know anything; Iforgot. Will you come to my room?"
"Yes, let us go. Now tell me at once."
"We have had a frightful gale," she said, "and this morning Hughie saw afishing-boat close in land, driving on to the reef. There was just oneshrimp of a boy on it, and Hughie went straight in, like a duck towater, and got him off and swam back with him. There was a rope andSeymour and Berts pulled him in. And when they got close in, Hughie putthe boy on his back--oh, Mama, thank God for men like that!--and thebreakers banged him down on the beach, and the boy was unhurt. AndHughie may die very soon, or he may live--"
Nadine's voice choked for a moment. All day she had not felt a sob risein her throat.
"And if he lives," she said, "he may never be able to walk again, and Ilove him."
Then came the tempest of tears, tears of joy and sorrow, a storm ofthem, fruitful as autumn rain, fruitful as the sudden deluges of April,with God-knows-what warmth of sun behind. The drought of summer in her,the ice of winter in her had been broken up in the rain that makes thegrowth and the life of the world. The frozen ground melted under it, thesoil, cracked with drought, drank it in: the parody of life that she hadlived became but the farce that preceded sweet serious drama, tragedy itmight be, but something human.... And Dodo, woman also, understood that:she too had lived years that parodied herself, and knew what theawakening to womanhood was, and the immensity of that unsuspectedkingdom. It had come late to her, to Nadine early: some were almost bornin consciousness of their birthright, others died without realizing it.So, mother and daughter, they sat there in silence, while Nadine wepther fill.
"It was the splendidest adventure," she said at length, lifting herhead. "It was all so gay. He shouted to that little boy in the boat toencourage him to cling on, and oh, those damned reefs were so close. Andwhen they rode in, Hughie like a horse with a child on his back overthat--that precipice, he said something again to encourage him."
Nadine broke down again for a moment.
"Hughie never thought about himself at all," she said. "He used alwaysto think about me. But when he went on his adventure he didn't thinkabout me. He thought only of that little stupid boy, God bless him. And,oh, Mummie, I gave myself away--I got down to the beach just beforeHughie went in, and I lost my head and I screamed out, 'Not you, Hughie:Seymour, Berts, anybody, but not you!' It wasn't I who screamed;something inside me screamed, and the one who screamed was--was my lovefor Hughie, and I never knew of it. But inside me something swelled, andit burst. Yes: Hughie heard, I am sure, and Seymour heard, and I don'tcare at all."
Nadine sat up, with a sort of unconscious pride in her erectness.
"I saw him just now," she said, "and he quite knew me, and asked if hewas going to die. I told him 'he certainly was not; I couldn't sparehim.'"
Nadine gave a little croaking laugh.
"And he instantly went to sleep," she said.
The veracious historian is bound to state that this was an adventureabsolutely after Dodo's heart. All her life she had loved impulse, anddisregarded its possibly appalling consequences. Never had she reasonedbefore she acted, and she could almost have laughed for joy at theseblind strokes of fate. Hugh's splendid venture thrilled her, even as itthrilled Nadine, and for the moment the result seemed negligible. Agreat thing had 'got done' in the world: now by all means let them hopefor the best in its sequel, and do their utmost to bring about the best,not with a fainting or regretful heart, but with a heart that rejoicedand sang over the glory of the impetuous deed that brought about thesedealings of love and life.
Dodo's eyes danced as she spoke, danced and were dim at the same time.
"Oh, Nadine, and you saw it!" she said. "How glorious for you to seethat, and to know at the same moment that you loved him. And, my dear,if Hughie is to die, you must thank God for him without any regret.There is nothing to regret. And if he lives--"
"Oh, Mama, one thing at a time," said Nadine. "If he only lives, if onlyI am going to be allowed to take care of him, and to do what can bedone."
She paused a moment.
"I am so glad you have come," she said; "it was dear of you to start atonce like that. Did Papa Jack want you not to go?"
"My dear, he hurried me off to that extent that I left the only bag thatmattered behind."
"That was nice of him. They have been so hopeless, all of them here,because they didn't understand. Berts has been looking like a funeralall day, the sort
with plumes. And Edith has been running in and outwith soup for me, soup and mince and glasses of port I think--I thinkSeymour understood though, because he was quite cheerful and normal. Oh,Mama, if Hughie only lives, I will marry Seymour as a thank-offering."
Dodo looked at her daughter in amazement.
"Not if Seymour understands," she said.
Nadine frowned.
"It's the devil's own mess," she observed.
"But the devil never cleans up his messes," said Dodo. "That's what welearn by degrees. He makes them, and we clean them up. More or less,that is to say."
She paused a moment, and flung the spirit of her speech from her.
"I don't mean that," she said. "It is truer to say that God makesbeautiful things, and we spoil them. And then He makes them beautifulagain. It is only people who can't see at all, that see the other aspectof it. I think they call them realists--I know it ends in 'ist.' But itdoesn't matter what you call them. They are wrong. We have got to holdour hearts high, and let them beat, and let ourselves enjoy and be happyand taste things to the full. It is easier to be miserable, my dear, formost people. We are the lucky ones. Oh, if I had been a charwoman, likethat thing in the play, with a husband who stole and was sent to prison,I should have found something to be happy about. Probably a largediamond in the grate, which I should have sold without being traced."
These remarkable statements were not made without purpose. Dodo knewquite well that courage and patience and cheerfulness would be needed byNadine, and she was willing to talk the most outrageous nonsense to givethe sense of vitality to her, to make her see that no great happeninglike this, whatever the end, was a thing to moan and brood over. It mustbe taken with much more than resignation--a quality which shedespised--and with hardly less than gaiety. Such at any rate was herprivate human gospel, which she found had not served her so badly.
"I have quite missed my vocation," she said. "I ought to have been bornin poverty-stricken and criminal classes to show the world that beinghungry does not make you unhappy any more than having three diamondtiaras makes you happy. You've got that birthright, Nadine, live up toit. Never anticipate trouble, and if it comes embrace and welcome it: itis part of life, and thus it becomes your friend. Oh, I wish I had beenhere this morning! I would have shouted for glee to see that darlingHughie go churning out to sea. I am jealous of you. Just think: if PapaJack had come a-wooing of you, as I really thought he might be doing inthe summer, you would have married him and I should be looking afterHughie. Isn't that like me? I want everybody's good times myself."
These amazing statements were marvelously successful.
"I won't give my good time away even to you," said Nadine.
"No, you are sharper than a serpent's tooth. Now, darling, we will govery quietly along the passage, and just see if Hughie is asleep. Ishould so like to wake him up--I know he is asleep--in order to tell himhow splendid it all is. Don't be frightened: I'm not going to. We willjust go to the door, and that enormous nurse whom I saw peering over thebanisters, will tell us to go away. And then I shall go to dress fordinner, and you will too--"
"Oh, Mama, I can't come down to dinner," said Nadine.
"Yes, dear, you can and you will. There's going to be no sadness in myhouse. If you don't, I shall send Edith up to you with mince and her'cello and soup. Oh, Nadine, and it was all just for a little stupidboy, who very likely would have been better dead. He will now probablygrow up, and be an anxiety to his parents, if he's got any--they usuallyhaven't--and come to a bad and early end. What a great world!"