CHAPTER XXIII
WHAT THE DAWN BROUGHT
When our lives come to be written in their true proportion, it will befound that in some cases a year has passed like a watch in the night,while some nights have lasted for years. This is why the realisticnovelists, who take pages to describe how a girl took a taper out of thesideboard drawer and lit the gas, are so pitifully mistaken. When agood cook takes a cabbage to cook for the pot, her first action is tostrip and throw away the outer leaves, as of no value. The realistseems to deal only with these outer leaves. He does not hold that anycabbage is ever cooked, or, if it is, then it was not worth the cooking.Life, in his estimation, consists in the perpetual stripping of outerleaves.
The night in the mile-castle marked an extraordinary epoch to OlwenInnes. When she looked back to it she felt that had not her senses beenso bemused there were certain deductions she must have drawn, certainconclusions at which she must have arrived.
As a matter of fact, all these things escaped her at the time, she beingin no state to reason. Yet the impressions left by what then happenedto her were so deep that afterwards she was able to think out the wholething justly.
There were periods during that long waiting when her temperature rose,and she chattered a little deliriously. There were moments when she grewcold and sick, and shivering fits assailed her. Again there weremerciful interludes, during which she slumbered heavily. In all thesephases Ninian Guyse was close at hand to lay her down, to ease herposture, to chafe her cold hands, to hold her close in his efforts tokeep life in her.
She did not know how, in course of those dreadful hours, he parted bydegrees with quite half his clothing to reinforce her flickeringvitality. She had longish periods of something that was half sleep,half stupor, and during these he rested. He dare not risk allowingtheir carefully cultivated warmth to escape by opening the door untilthe last moment, when they must make their final dash.
After what seemed to her an endless period of darkness and pain andever-increasing discomfort, she felt that he was busily occupied infitting on her squirrel cap over her bandaged head and wrapping her furstole about her throat afresh.
"Are you awake? Can you hear what I say?" he was inquiring in a voiceof dull patience.
"Oh, what do you want? Let me lie still."
"No, you must get up. See! I have a cup of tea for you, and when youhave drunk it you must try to stand and to walk a little. We are goingout."
She tried to resist these intentions on his part, feebly whimpering asshe pushed away his hands. He held on steadily, repeating in a wearyvoice: "Sit up; I'll hold you. You _can_ sit up if you try. There! Isthat all right? Now you must eat this before I give you the tea. Come,be a brave girl! Pull yourself together. We're not dead yet!"
With a start she awoke to fuller consciousness. She was sitting on theground, propped against Ninian, and his electric torch shed a light uponthem both. She was past wondering whence came the tea or the bit ofstale sponge-cake which he put into her mouth as though she were a youngcuckoo. She wanted the tea so desperately that she ate as he commanded.Then came the drink. Having been kept all night it was barely lukewarm,but it was tea.
When she had finished, her guardian sat quite still for a few minutes,allowing her to recover. Presently her faltering voice uttered somepathetic little thanks.
"Come!" he said. "That's more like you. Now listen. It's six o'clock,and the sun rises before half-past seven. There's hint of dawn now. Thesnow has quite stopped falling, and I think we can strike Wade's Road ifwe make for the south. Hotwells Farm is too far, but there should be ahouse of sorts within a mile or rather more from where we are in theopposite direction, and the lie of the ground is easier; it's down hill.Our only chance is to get there somehow. The movement will keep uswarm. Are you game?"
"I'll do whatever you tell me," came faintly. "I'm sorry to be such--apig."
A slight pressure of the arm which held her accepted her apology. "Allright; then I'm going to lift you to your feet. It's just high enoughin here for us to stand up."
He suited the action to the word. Two or three billiard balls, whichhad been floating about in her head all night, clashed together with ahorrid shock. She hung limp against Ninian while she waited for theresulting tumult to subside. The perpendicular attitude seemed torestore her scattered wits. For the first time pride and a desire tomake the best of things awoke within her. Up to that moment she hadbeen too badly hurt to care.
"That's--better," said she clearly. "I--I think I can get along. I'lldo my best. You are so good."
"Come on, then," he replied, pushing open the door. He said nothing toOlwen of his struggle, half an hour earlier, with that same door.
It had taken him twenty minutes to force it wide enough for his arm andstick to operate upon the drift without: in fact, there had been amoment during which he had feared that the weight was too great for himto move alone. In the end, however, he had succeeded in cutting a pathout through the doorway of the mile-castle, inside which the snow hadpiled itself.
Outside there was a more or less uniform depth of something more than afoot. Before them, as they faced south, the cliff, so precipitous onits northern face, sloped gently downwards to the level of the oldcoaching road that runs from Carlisle to Newcastle, and is, of lateyears, almost deserted.
Not only was there a glimmer of dawn in the east, but a belated moonhung over this white and lonely world. They could see quite well enoughto make progress possible, but the distance was hidden. Ninian wantedto descry a house, that they might make a beeline for it, but they couldsee nothing in all the snowy wilderness. At last the girl spoke.
"Do you see that black little grove of trees to our right, lower down,not quite so far as the road, I should think?"
"Yes, I see where you mean."
"Isn't there something light against the black trees that looks like aline of smoke going up?"
"Jove, the porcelain rogue has done it! That's smoke right enough.They're astir early enough over there. Cheer-o, partner! We can hitthat clump of trees without having to take such a very steady aim.Better keep along the top for a bit, in the lee of the wall; the snow isnot half so thick there as it is just beyond."
They started off, and for the first few minutes the stimulus of the teaand the sting of the high air revived Olwen surprisingly.
"What a blessing our coats hide some of the havoc!" observed Ninian, whoupheld her by her arm. "I am nothing but rags underneath, and as to youthe less said the better; you are in a ghastly mess, and I don't see howI can so much as wipe your face for you."
"Is it all over blood?" she asked, with such strong distaste that hebegan to turn over in his mind the possibility of wiping it for her.Their handkerchiefs had all been requisitioned for bandaging, and hewould not allow her to cut up her clothes. After reflection, he found aconvenient boulder, brushed the snow from it, and seated her thereon.Then, without announcing his intention, he cut away a bit of the sleeveof his flannel shirt. Having put a little snow into the tin cup, hethawed it by holding lighted matches under it.
Then he sat down, propped her head against his shoulder, and washed thepoor soiled little face with the water thus obtained, teasing her softlythe while with uncomplimentary remarks upon her features, such as abrother might have made.
"Oh, thank you, thank you," she sighed. "You really are a dear. Youare good to me."
He made a queer little sound that was almost like a groan. Looking upquickly, she surprised in his face an expression of misery which wasunlike any look he had worn before. His eyes met hers in a beseechingsort of way, and he put up his hand to her face as if to hold her headcloser or to prevent her looking at him. Then he uttered thisunlooked-for aspiration:
"I wish to God I had never seen you!"
At the time the words sounded incredible, but on thinking it overafterwards she was sure that he had used them. She felt too stupid
,however, to ask him to explain. They sat silent for a minute, thenarose and continued their difficult pilgrimage.
When they thought themselves close to the house they were stalking theyhad a disappointment. They came to one of those abrupt gaps in thecliff, up and down which the Roman builders carried their wall withoutflinching. This particular gap is extremely precipitous, and gettingdown was a long and difficult job. By the time it was accomplished, andthey found themselves in a boulder-strewn field, they could see thehouse plainly.
"Oh, this is Hazel Crag, where old Abraham Bird lives," said Ninianhopefully. "He is the oldest inhabitant--must be ninety or more. Hehas a daughter, a sprightly young thing of seventy or so, who looksafter him. The old girl gets up bright and early, doesn't she? Anyway,she has a good fire, and you can rest here and be warm till I bring thetrap for you."
She smiled wanly, for she was sick with pain. "Do I look so veryawful?" she asked with a truly feminine shrinking.
"I don't think old Mrs. Barcombe can see what you look like," he repliedencouragingly; "but, in any case, I've washed your face for you. Now, along pull and a strong pull, and we'll be in harbour in quite a fewminutes. We shall beat the sun, I do declare!"
Slithering and wading through the loose snow, they reached the door ofthe farm-kitchen. The blind was drawn, and a glow of lamplight andfirelight showed through it As they stood awaiting an answer to theirknock, the girl turned her pain-dimmed eyes upon the drear, inhospitableworld wherein they had been so nearly lost.
A faint glimmer, premonition only of daylight, showed vague whiteness,mist, black trunks of trees that stood motionless at gaze in the nowwindless air.
It was like the vision of a clairvoyant, not a moment in actualexistence. The girl's weariness and pain were interpenetrated by astrange new thrill, born perhaps of the contact of Ninian's closelyfolded arm.
"The call of the north," she said to herself, "Sunia is really a witch.This is where I belong."
The sound of a bolt being drawn from within made her turn quickly. Thedoor was thrown widely open, and Dr. Balmayne confronted them.
The revulsion of feeling in Olwen, caused by his presence and his look,cannot be put into words. He had his usual aspect of well-groomedneatness. His blue eyes rested upon the couple outside, first with theblank stare of non-recognition, then with a depth of amazement which wasin itself a condemnation.
"Well," said Ninian easily, "I do have the devil's own luck. Out of allthe world you are the man we want at this moment, Balmayne. Miss Inneshas had an accident."
"So I see," said Balmayne mechanically, speaking like a man overwhelmed.
"I've come to ask old Abe for hospitality while I go and fetch thesleigh and take her home," said Ninian, as he led the girl into the warmkitchen where the fire blazed gloriously, seated her in a cavernouschair and, kneeling before her, began swiftly to unlace her wet boots.
"Old Abe died about an hour ago," said Balmayne, standing aside withstony countenance.
Ninian stopped short with a start, then resumed his ordinary manner."That so! I suppose you've been up all night?"
"I came last night and couldn't get back."
"The storm was sudden," said Ninian calmly. He rose to his feet, strodeout of the room, and called up the stairs:
"Mrs. Barcombe! Mrs. Barcombe!"
"Why, who be you?" said a quavering voice from above.
"Guyse of the Pele. I got snowed up on the fell, and I've brought ayoung lady here. She had an accident. May I leave her in your kitchenwhile I go and get the sleigh to drive her home?"
"I'll be doon verra soon, Mr. Guyse. I'm joost a-putting the penniesupon his eyes. Poor old feyther, he do make a handsome corp, for surehe do."
"He was a fine man, Mrs. Barcombe. God rest his soul. Well, may theyoung lady stay?"
"Oo ay, she may bide if she will. She ain't your sweetheart, Mr.Guyse--eh?"
"Why, what makes you ask that?"
"You shouldna bring your sweetheart into the house wi' a corp in it orshe'll never wed you."
"I'll have to risk it, old lady. You come down and get the doctor somehot water and clean rags, will you?"
During this colloquy Olwen had sat with eyes closed, and the doctorstood staring upon her as though he had been turned to stone. As thetalk went on he saw the girl shrink and wince; and when Ninian came backinto the room she was sitting up, holding the arms of her chair,shivering and shedding tears.
"What is it? You're not afraid to stay, are you?" cried he explosively,going to her side.
"Miss Innes has no alternative," put in the doctor curtly. "She is notin a condition to talk; in fact I doubt if she ought to be moved at all.I shall be able to judge better when I have examined her injury." Hecame a little nearer and stood looking at her. "How did it happen?"
"Just by accident--the frost----" she began, and Ninian cut in.
"Never mind how it happened; the thing is to get it mended as soon as wecan. I'm afraid it's pretty bad, but she's so plucky."
Balmayne's lip curled. "Mr. Guyse has singularly bad luck with theyoung ladies who come to stay at the Pele," said he, as if he could notresist the temptation to see Ninian writhe.
The culprit did no such thing. He stood there in the centre of thekitchen, as great a contrast to the other man as could be conceived.
He was so dark that to go one night unshorn made a ruffian of him; andhis cut hands, torn clothes and tousled hair, joined to the fact thathis cheek was green and blue with a severe bruise, and that there wereflecks of blood about him, made him seem as unsuitable a companion for anight's adventure upon the fells as any poor girl could have beenafflicted with.
He kept his self-possession, however. He had just caught sight of hisreflection in the dim little mirror above the high chimney-piece, and hegrinned as he sleeked his black head with both dirty hands.
"I'll leave her in your charge, doctor," said he easily. "Do all you canfor her, and if the time hangs heavy before I get back, you can alwaysamuse yourself by taking away the last shreds of my character."
For a moment he stooped over the girl. "Keep up your spirit," hemurmured. "Think of home, and Sunia, and nice white bed-clothes."
She gave him a wan little smile; but the force she had put upon herselfto enable her to reach the farm had left her spent. She was withinmeasurable distance of complete collapse.
The moment the door closed behind Guyse, Balmayne went into theadjoining parlour and wheeled out a long horsehair couch. Giving rapiddirections to old Mrs. Barcombe, who had come downstairs by this time,he secured enough pillows to enable him to lay the girl down easily. Ina few minutes he had a hot-water bottle at her feet, and having warmed alittle milk in a saucepan, added a tablespoonful of brandy and made herdrink it before commencing his operations.
The removal of Nin's bandages revealed a more serious wound than he hadanticipated. Investigation proved it to be superficial, but it wasextensive enough to need a good many stitches. As a matter of fact, thefur cap which the girl wore had deflected the course of the descendingrock, and probably saved her life by causing it to strike obliquely. Abit of the scalp had been torn quite away from the bone, which wasitself slightly scratched, but not cracked, as he ascertained withrelief.
She was so exhausted that she lay almost torpid under his handling, andhe accomplished the painful business of sterilising and sewing up thewound with no greater sign of suffering than a few moans. It took himsome time to unfasten her hair, and it was with real regret that hefound himself obliged to cut away a long, thick tress to clear theground for his operations.
When the job was done, and he had adjusted the lint, steeped inantiseptic lotion, with skilfully folded roller bandages, he gave hermore milk and brandy. To his astonishment she had very little fever,but he expected considerable reaction that night when the effects of theshock became more manifest.
He covered her warmly and went away, leaving her to herself while hewashed his implements in the sc
ullery.
When he came back her eyes were open, and she murmured a few words ofthanks.
"Is the pain in the head less?"
"Oh, much less."
"You must have fallen a considerable distance."
"I did not fall."
"No?"
"The frost had made the rock dangerous. We were climbing ... Duke'sCrag. A bit of rock broke loose and fell upon me."
"This, I conclude, happened yesterday?"
"Yes."
"Would it be impertinent to ask where you have passed the night?"
"In the mile-castle. There is a little hut there. I was unconscious,and the snow came on. We could not get home."
"It seems incredible that Guyse should take you to such a place on footat such a time of year."
"We went to skate."
"Indeed! Does Guyse usually skate up the face of a cliff?"
She smiled a little. "It was my fault we went up. I wanted to see theRoman Wall."
He made no reply, gazing into the fire and wondering what he ought tosay or refrain from saying.
Her voice was heard after a long pause. "It can hardly be necessary forme to assure you that our being out last night in such a way was sheeraccident."
With a start he made some confused apologies. "I am perhaps intrusivein saying even so much," he concluded, "but I wish it had nothappened--not with that man."
"I might have agreed with you ... yesterday," she whispered faintly.
He flashed a keen look. "Yesterday?"
"But this morning I think ... I am sure ... there could not be a moreperfect companion than Mr. Guyse for such an uncomfortable adventure."
To this he made no reply for some time, but at last, as if he could notwithhold the comment, he remarked, "A man would have to be triply abrute had he been otherwise than considerate when you were so badlyhurt."
She had no reply to make, and they sat on silently in the warm kitchen.Old Mrs. Barcombe trudged to and fro with deep sighs and some audiblespeculation as to the difficulty of getting the "corp" to the churchyardin such weather. She invited the girl to go upstairs and have a look at"feyther," an invitation which the doctor hastily explained that theyoung lady was far too ill to accept.
After an interval, when they had the kitchen to themselves, he saidquietly, "Am I to conclude that you intend to remain at the Pele?"
"Why not?" she asked in sudden alarm. "What do you mean?"
A sound without had taken him to the window, and he turned with a graveface and the news that Mr. Guyse had already returned with the sleigh.
"Oh, I expect he met Ezra come to fetch us," cried Olwen quite eagerly."Is he--the man--there too?"
"Yes, fortunately," replied Balmayne coldly, as he turned to her andbegan to wrap up her feet in a voluminous red flannel petticoatbelonging to Mrs. Barcombe and to secure this swaddling with a bit ofstring.
By the time that Ninian entered the room he had wrapped her, head andall, in a huge plaid; and without a word he lifted her in his arms andstood looking at the other man across his burden.
"I conclude you will start for home at once?" he said. "If so, I willput Miss Innes in the sleigh. Not a moment should be lost in gettingher to bed. I have not written a prescription for her, because it isnot possible for you to have it made up. I will come myself thisevening and bring it with me. Meanwhile, ask Mrs. Guyse to give hersome nitre, if she has any, to keep her warm, and let her have hot milkyfood--nothing else until I see her again."
So saying, he bore Olwen out of the room and the house, leaving Guyse totake farewell of Mrs. Barcombe and remunerate her for her services.
This was quickly done, and as Ninian was snatching up his cap from thetable to hurry out and see how the patient was bestowed he saw lyingacross the table a gleaming tress of hair. The bulk looked soft, mistybrown, but all the tips, which stood up and glittered in the light, wereburnished gold. He took it up, folded it with care, and bestowed it inan inner pocket. Then he walked out of the door with a devil-may-caresmile, and noted with a curl of the lip that Balmayne had laid thepatient right across the front seat, so that he would have not only tosit behind with Ezra, but to drive from that inconvenient position.However, he had the justice to admit that if Miss Innes had to lie downthis was the only plan. His own, of holding her upon his knees, would,in his mind, have been immensely preferable.
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