CHAPTER XVII.
When the surgeon came, he pronounced that none of her limbs were broken,but that the shock to the brain, and the whole system, had been sosevere, that the only chance of recovery consisted in perfect quiet.She herself said that the question was, whether Providence wanted herstill to watch over her child.
After some days she came down stairs, not without my support, and waspropped once more upon her poor sofa. Calm she appeared, and contented,and happy in such sort as of old; but whenever she turned her glancefrom me, she observed with starting eyes every little thing that moved.Especially she would lie and gaze through the open window, at a certainlarge spider, who worked very hard among the woodbine blossoms. One day,in making too bold a cast, he fell; some chord of remembrance wastouched, and she swooned away on the couch.
In spite of these symptoms I fondly hoped that she was recoveringstrength. She even walked out with me twice, in the sunny afternoon.But this only lasted a very short time; it soon became manifest, even tome, that ere long she would be with my father.
Unable to fight any more with this dark perception, I embraced it with asort of savage despair, an utter sinking of the heart, which defied Godas it sank. This she soon discovered, and I fear that it saddened herend.
She was much disappointed, too, that we could not find or thank him whohad perilled his life for us. None could tell who he was, or what hadbecome of him; though the farmer, at our entreaty, searched all thevillages round. We were told, indeed, by the landlady of the "Red-deerInn" (a lonely public-house near the scene of the accident) that astranger had come to her in very great haste, and, having learned who wewere, for she had seen us pass half an hour before, had sent her boy tothe farm for some kind of conveyance, while he returned at full speed toattend those whom he had rescued. It further appeared that thisstranger had helped to place us in the cart, and showed the kindestanxiety to lessen the roughness of its motion, himself even leading old"Smiler," to thwart his propensity to the deepest and hardest ruts. Bythe time our slow vehicle reached the farm, Mrs. Huxtable was returnedfrom the Lower Cleve orchard, where she had been smoking the fernwebs,in ignorance of our mishap; and our conductor, seeing us safe in herhands, departed without a word, while she was too flurried andfrightened to take much notice of him.
Neither could the woman of the inn describe him; she was so "mazed,"when she heard of the "vail arl down the girt goyal," as she called ourslide of about fifty feet; and for this she quoted the stranger as herauthority, "them's the very words as he used;" though, just before this,she had stated that he was a foreigner and could not speak English.Knowing that in Devonshire any stranger is called a foreigner, andEnglish means the brogue of the countryside, I did not attach muchweight to this declaration. The only remaining witness, the lad who hadcome with the butt, was too stupid to describe anything, except threeround O's, with his mouth and eyes.
But it mattered little about description; I had seen that stranger undersuch circumstances, that I could not fail to know him again.
On the morrow, and once in the following week, some kind inquiries weremade as to our condition, by means of slips of paper conveyed by countrylads. No name was attached to these, and no information given about theinquirer. The bearer of the first missive came from Lynmouth, and ofthe second from Ilfracombe. Neither lad knew anything (though submittedby Mrs. Huxtable to keen cross-examination), except that he was paid forhis errand, but would like some cider, and that the answer was to bewritten upon the paper he brought.
Whether any motive for concealment existed, beside an excess ofdelicacy, or whether there even was any intentional secresy, or merelyindifference to our gratitude, was more than we could pretend to say. Iam not at all inquisitive--not more so, I mean, than other women--but Ineed not confess that my curiosity (to say nothing of better feelings)was piqued a little by this uncommon reserve.
So now, beside the engrossing search for my deadly enemy, I had to seekout another, my brave and noble friend.
Clara Vaughan, Volume 1 (of 3) Page 17