by J. M. Barrie
CHAPTER XXX
THE LITTLE GODS DESERT HIM
And all next day he searched like a man whose eyes would never closeagain. She had not passed the night in any inn or village house of St.Gian; of that he made certain by inquiries from door to door. None ofthe guides had seen her, though they are astir so late and so early,patiently waiting at the hotel doors to be hired, that there seems tobe no night for them--darkness only, that blots them out for a time asthey stand waiting. At all hours there is in St. Gian the tinkle ofbells, the clatter of hoofs, the crack of a whip, dust in retreat; butno coachman brought him news. The streets were thronged with othercoachmen on foot looking into every face in quest of some person whowanted to return to the lowlands, but none had looked into her face.
Within five minutes of the hotel she might have been on any of half adozen roads. He wandered or rushed along them all for a space, andcame back. One of them was short and ended in the lake. All throughthat long and beautiful day this miserable man found himself comingback to the road that ended in the lake.
There were moments when he cried to himself that it was an apparitionhe had seen and heard. He had avoided his friends all day; of theEnglish-speaking people in St. Gian one only knew why he wasdistraught, and she was the last he wished to speak to; but more thanonce he nearly sought her to say, "Partner in my shame, what did yousee? what did you hear?" In the afternoon he had a letter from Elspethtelling him how she was enjoying her holiday by the sea, andmentioning that David was at that moment writing to Grizel in Thrums.But was it, then, all a dream? he cried, nearly convinced for thefirst time, and he went into the arbour saying determinedly that itwas a dream; and in the arbour, standing primly in a corner, wasGrizel's umbrella. He knew that umbrella so well! He remembered oncebeing by while she replaced one of its ribs so deftly that he seemedto be looking on at a surgical operation. The old doctor had given itto her, and that was why she would not let it grow old before she wasold herself. Tommy opened it now with trembling hands and looked atthe little bits of Grizel on it: the beautiful stitching with whichshe had coaxed the slits to close again; the one patch, so artful thatshe had clapped her hands over it. And he fell on his knees and kissedthese little bits of Grizel, and called her "beloved," and cried tohis gods to give him one more chance.
"I woke up." It was all that she had said. It was Grizel's excuse forinconveniencing him. She had said it apologetically and as if she didnot quite know how she came to be there herself. There was no look ofreproach on her face while the match burned; there had been a pitifulsmile, as if she was begging him not to be very angry with her; andthen when he said her name she gave that little cry as if she hadrecognized herself, and stole away. He lived that moment over and overagain, and she never seemed to be horror-stricken until he cried"Grizel!" when her recognition of herself made her scream. It was asif she had wakened up, dazed by the terrible things that were beingsaid, and then, by the light of that one word "Grizel," suddenly knewwho had been listening to them.
Did he know anything more? He pressed his hands harshly on his templesand thought. He knew that she was soaking wet, that she had probablysought the arbour for protection from the rain, and that, if so, shehad been there for at least four hours. She had wakened up. She musthave fallen asleep, knocked down by fatigue. What fatigue it must havebeen to make Grizel lie there for hours he could guess, and he beathis brow in anguish. But why she had come he could not guess. "Oh,miserable man, to seek for reasons," he cried passionately to himself,"when it is Grizel--Grizel herself--you should be seeking for!"
He walked and ran the round of the lake, and it was not on the bankthat his staring eyes were fixed.
At last he came for a moment upon her track. The people of an inn sixmiles from St. Gian remembered being asked yesterday by an Englishmiss, walking alone, how far she was from Bad-Platten. She was wearingsomething brown, and her boots were white with dust, and these peoplehad never seen a lady look so tired before; when she stood still shehad to lean against the wall. They said she had red-hot eyes.
Tommy was in an einspaenner now, the merry conveyance of the countryand more intoxicating than its wines, and he drove back through St.Gian to Bad-Platten, where again he heard from Grizel, though he didnot find her. What he found was her telegram from London: "I amcoming. GRIZEL." Why had she come? why had she sent that telegram?what had taken her to London? He was not losing time when he askedhimself distractedly these questions, for he was again in his gaycarriage and driving back to the wayside inn. He spent the nightthere, afraid to go farther lest he should pass her in the darkness;for he had decided that, if alive, she was on this road. That she hadwalked all those forty miles uphill seemed certain, and apparently thebest he could hope was that she was walking back. She had probably nomoney to enable her to take the diligence. Perhaps she had no moneywith which to buy food. It might be that while he lay tossing in bedshe was somewhere near, dying for want of a franc.
He was off by morning light, and several times that day he heard ofher, twice from people who had seen her pass both going and coming,and he knew it must be she when they said she rocked her arms as shewalked. Oh, he knew why she rocked her arms! Once he thought he hadfound her. He heard of an English lady who was lying ill in the houseof a sawmiller, whose dog (we know the dogs of these regions, but notthe people) had found her prostrate in the wood, some distance fromthe highroad. Leaving his einspaenner in a village, Tommy climbed downthe mountain-side to this little house, which he was long indiscovering. It was by the side of a roaring river, and he arrivedonly an hour too late. The lady had certainly been Grizel; but she wasgone. The sawyer's wife described to him how her husband had broughther in, and how she seemed so tired and bewildered that she fellasleep while they were questioning her. She held her hands over herears to shut out the noise of the river, which seemed to terrify her.So far as they could understand, she told them that she was runningaway from the river. She had been sleeping there for three hours, andwas still asleep when the good woman went off to meet her husband; butwhen they returned she was gone.
He searched the wood for miles around, crying her name. The sawyer andsome of his fellow-workers left the trees they were stripping of barkto help him, and for hours the wood rang with "Grizel, Grizel!" Allthe mountains round took up the cry; but there never came an answer.This long delay prevented his reaching the railway terminus until noonof the following day, and there he was again too late. But she hadbeen here. He traced her to that hotel whence we saw her settingforth, and the portier had got a ticket for her for London. He hadtalked with her for some little time, and advised her, as she seemedso tired, to remain there for the night. But she said she must go homeat once. She seemed to be passionately desirous to go home, and hadlooked at him suspiciously, as if fearing he might try to hold herback. He had been called away, and on returning had seen herdisappearing over the bridge. He had called to her, and then she ranas if afraid he was pursuing her. But he had observed her afterwardsin the train.
So she was not without money, and she was on her way home! The reliefit brought him came to the surface in great breaths, and at firstevery one of them was a prayer of thankfulness. Yet in time they weretriumphant breaths. Translated into words, they said that he had gotoff cheaply for the hundredth time. His little gods had saved himagain, as they had saved him in the arbour by sending Grizel to him.He could do as he liked, for they were always there to succour him;they would never desert him--never. In a moment of fierce elation heraised his hat to them, then seemed to see Grizel crying "I woke up,"and in horror of himself clapped it on again. It was but a momentaryaberration, and is recorded only to show that, however remorseful hefelt afterwards, there was life in our Tommy still.
The train by which he was to follow her did not leave until evening,and through those long hours he was picturing, with horrible vividnessand pain, the progress of Grizel up and down that terrible pass. Oftenhis shoulders shook in agony over what he saw, and he shuddered to theteeth. He would have walke
d round the world on his knees to save herthis long anguish! And then again it was less something he saw thansomething he was writing, and he altered it to make it more dramatic."I woke up." How awful that was! but in this new scene she uttered nowords. Lady Pippinworth was in his arms when they heard a little cry,so faint that a violin string makes as much moan when it snaps. In adread silence he lit a match, and as it flared the figure of a girlwas seen upon the floor. She was dead; and even as he knew that shewas dead he recognized her. "Grizel!" he cried. The other woman whohad lured him from his true love uttered a piercing scream and rantowards the hotel. When she returned with men and lanterns there wasno one in the arbour, but there were what had been a man and a girl.They lay side by side. The startled onlookers unbared their heads. Asolemn voice said, "In death not divided."
He was not the only occupant of the hotel reading-room as he saw allthis, and when his head fell forward and he groaned, the others lookedup from their papers. A lady asked if he was unwell.
"I have had a great shock," he replied in a daze, pulling his handacross his forehead.
"Something you have seen in your paper?" inquired a clergyman who hadbeen complaining that there was no news.
"People I knew," said Tommy, not yet certain which world he was in.
"Dead?" the lady asked sympathetically.
"I knew them well," he said, and staggered into the fresh air.
Poor dog of a Tommy! He had been a total abstainer from sentiment, asone may say, for sixty hours, and this was his only glass. It was thenobler Tommy, sternly facing facts, who by and by stepped into thetrain. He even knew why he was going to Thrums. He was going to saycertain things to her; and he said them to himself again and again inthe train, and heard her answer. The words might vary, but they werealways to the same effect.
"Grizel, I have come back!"
He saw himself say these words, as he opened her door in Gavinia'slittle house. And when he had said them he bowed his head.
At his sudden appearance she started up; then she stood pale and firm.
"Why have you come back?"
"Not to ask your forgiveness," he replied hoarsely; "not to attempt toexcuse myself; not with any hope that there remains one drop of thelove you once gave me so abundantly. I want only, Grizel, to put mylife into your hands. I have made a sorry mess of it myself. Will youtake charge of what may be left of it? You always said you were readyto help me. I have come back, Grizel, for your help. What you wereonce willing to do for love, will you do for pity now?"
She turned away her head, and he went nearer her. "There was alwayssomething of the mother in your love, Grizel; but for that you wouldnever have borne with me so long. A mother, they say, can never quiteforget her boy--oh, Grizel, is it true? I am the prodigal come back.Grizel, beloved, I have sinned and I am unworthy, but I am still yourboy, and I have come back. Am I to be sent away?"
At the word "beloved" her arms rocked impulsively. "You must not callme that," she said.
"Then I am to go," he answered with a shudder, "for I must always callyou that; whether I am with you or away, you shall always be belovedto me."
"You don't love me!" she cried. "Oh, do you love me at last!" And atthat he fell upon his knees.
"Grizel, my love, my love!"
"But you don't want to be married," she said.
"Beloved, I have come back to ask you on my knees to be my wife."
"That woman--"
"She was a married woman, Grizel."
"Oh, oh, oh!"
"And now you know the worst of me. It is the whole truth at last. Idon't know why you took that terrible journey, dear Grizel, but I doknow that you were sent there to save me. Oh, my love, you have doneso much, will you do no more?"
And so on, till there came a time when his head was on her lap and herhand caressing it, and she was whispering to her boy to look up andsee her crooked smile again.
He passed on to the wedding. All the time between seemed to be spentin his fond entreaties to hasten the longed-for day. How radiant shelooked in her bridal gown! "Oh, beautiful one, are you really mine?Oh, world, pause for a moment and look at the woman who has givenherself to me!"
"My wife--this is my wife!" They were in London now; he was showingher to London. How he swaggered! There was a perpetual apology on herface; it begged people to excuse him for looking so proudly at her. Itwas a crooked apology, and he hurried her into dark places and kissedit.
Do you see that Tommy was doing all this for Grizel and pretending toher that it was for himself? He was passionately desirous of makingamends, and he was to do it in the most generous way. Perhaps hebelieved when he seemed to enter her room saying, "Grizel, I have comeback," that she loved him still; perhaps he knew that he did not lovein the way he said; perhaps he saw a remorseful man making splendidatonement: but never should she know these things; tenderly as he hadbegun he would go on to the end. Here at last is a Tommy worth lookingat, and he looked.
Yet as he drew near Thrums, after almost exactly two days ofcontinuous travel, many a shiver went down his back, for he could notbe sure that he should find Grizel here; he sometimes seemed to seeher lying ill at some wayside station in Switzerland, in France;everything that could have happened to her he conceived, and he movedrestlessly in the carriage. His mouth went dry.
"Has she come back?"
The train had stopped for the taking of tickets, and his tremulousquestion checked the joy of Corp at sight of him.
"She's back," Corp answered in an excited whisper; and oh, the reliefto Tommy! "She came back by the afternoon train; but I had scarce aword wi' her, she was so awid to be hame. 'I am going home,' shecried, and hurried away up the brae. Ay, and there's one queer thing."
"What?"
"Her luggage wasna in the van."
Tommy could smile at that. "But what sent her," he asked eagerly, "onthat journey?"
Corp told him the little he knew. "But nobody kens except me andGavinia," he said. We pretend she gaed to London to see her father. Wesaid he had wrote to her, wanting her to go to him. Gavinia said itwould never do to let folk ken she had gaen to see you, and evenElspeth doesna ken."
"Is Elspeth back?"
"They came back yesterday."
Did David know the truth from Grizel? was what Tommy was askinghimself now as he strode up the brae. But again he was in luck, forwhen he had explained away his abrupt return to Elspeth, and beenjoyfully welcomed by her, she told him that her husband had been inone of the glens all day. "He does not know that Grizel has comeback," she said. "Oh," she exclaimed, "but you don't even know thatshe has been away! Grizel has been in London."
"Corp told me," said Tommy.
"And did he tell you why she had gone?"
"Yes."
"She came back an hour or two ago. Maggy Ann saw her go past. Fancyher seeing her father at last! It must have been an ordeal for her. Iwonder what took place."
"I think I had better go and ask her," Tommy said. He was mightilyrelieved for Grizel's sake. No one need ever know now what had calledher away except Corp and Gavinia, and even they thought she had merelybeen to London. How well the little gods were managing the wholeaffair! As he walked to Grizel's lodgings to say what he had beensaying in the train, the thought came to him for a moment that as noone need ever know where she had been there was less reason why heshould do this generous thing. But he put it from him with loftydisdain. Any effect it had was to make him walk more firmly to hissacrifice, as if to show all ignoble impulses that they could find nohome in that swelling breast He was pleased with himself, was Tommy.
"Grizel, I have come back." He said it to the night, and bowed hishead. He said it with head accompaniment to Grizel's lighted window.He said it to himself as he reached the door. He never said it again.
For Gavinia's first words were: "It's you, Mr. Sandys! Wherever isshe? For mercy's sake, dinna say you've come without her!" And when heblinked at this, she took him roughly by the arm and cried,"Wherever's Grizel?"
"She is here, Gavinia."
"She's no here."
"I saw her light."
"You saw my light."
"Gavinia, you are torturing me. She came back to-day."
"What makes you say that? You're dreaming. She hasna come back."
"Corp saw her come in by the afternoon train. He spoke to her."
Gavinia shook her head incredulously. "You're just imagining that,"she said.
"He told me. Gavinia, I must see for myself," She stared after him ashe went up the stairs. "You are very cruel, Gavinia," he said, when hecame down. "Tell me where she is."
"May I be struck, Mr. Sandys, if I've seen or heard o' her since sheleft this house eight days syne." He knew she was speaking the truth.He had to lean against the door for support. "It canna be so bad asyou think," she cried in pity. "If you're sure Corp said he saw her,she maun hae gone to the doctor's house."
"She is not there. But Elspeth knew she had come back. Others haveseen her besides Corp. My God, Gavinia! what can have happened?"
In little more than an hour he knew what had happened. Many besideshimself, David among them towards the end, were engaged in the search.And strange stories began to fly about like night-birds; you will notsearch for a missing woman without rousing them. Why had she gone offto London without telling anyone? Had Corp concocted that story abouther father to blind them? Had she really been as far as London? Haveyou seen Sandys?--he's back. It's said Corp telegraphed to him toSwitzerland that she had disappeared. It's weel kent Corp telegraphed.Sandys came at once. He is in a terrible state. Look how white he isaneath that lamp. What garred them telegraph for him? How is it he isin sic a state? Fond o' her, was he? Yea, yea, even after she gave himthe go-by. Then it's a weary Sabbath for him, if half they say betrue. What do they say? They say she was queer when she came back.Corp doesna say that. Maybe no; but Francie Crabb does. He says he mether on the station brae and spoke to her, and she said never a word,but put up her hands like as if she feared he was to strike her. TheDundas lassies saw her frae their window, and her hands were at herears as if she was trying to drown the sound o' something. Do you mindo' her mother? They say she was looking terrible like her mother.
It was only between the station and Gavinia's house that she had beenseen, but they searched far afield. Tommy, accompanied by Corp, evensought for her in the Den. Do you remember the long, lonely pathbetween two ragged little dykes that led from the Den to the house ofthe Painted Lady? It was there that Grizel had lived with her mamma.The two men went down that path, which is oppressed with trees.Elsewhere the night was not dark, but, as they had known so well whenthey were boys, it is always dark after evenfall in the Double Dykes.That is the legacy of the Painted Lady. Presently they saw thehouse--scarcely the house, but a lighted window. Tommy remembered thenight when as a boy, Elspeth crouching beside him, he had peered infearfully at that corner window on Grizel and her mamma, and theshuddersome things he had seen. He shuddered at them again.
"Who lives there now?" he asked.
"Nobody. It's toom."
"There is a light."
"Some going-about body. They often tak' bilbie in toom houses, andthat door is without a lock; it's keepit close wi' slipping a stickaneath it. Do you mind how feared we used to be at that house?"
"She was never afraid of it."
"It was her hame."
He meant no more than he said, but suddenly they both stopped dead.
"It's no possible," Corp said, as if in answer to a question. "It's nopossible," he repeated beseechingly.
"Wait for me here, Corp."
"I would rather come wi' you."
"Wait here!" Tommy said almost fiercely, and he went on alone to thatlittle window. It had needed an effort to make him look in when he washere before, and it needed a bigger effort now. But he looked.
What light there was came from the fire, and whether she had gatheredthe logs or found them in the room no one ever knew. A vagrant statedafterwards that he had been in the house some days before and left hismatch-box in it.
By this fire Grizel was crouching. She was comparatively tidy and neatagain; the dust was gone from her boots, even. How she had managed todo it no one knows, but you remember how she loved to be neat. Herhands were extended to the blaze, and she was busy talking to herself.
His hand struck the window heavily, and she looked up and saw him. Shenodded, and put her finger to her lips as a sign that he must becautious. She had often, in the long ago, seen her mother signing thusto an imaginary face at the window--the face of the man who nevercame.
Tommy went into the house, and she was so pleased to see him that shequite simpered. He put his arms round her, and she lay there with alittle giggle of contentment. She was in a plot of heat.
"Grizel! Oh, my God!" he said, "why do you look at me in that way?"
She passed her hand across her eyes, like one trying to think.
"I woke up," she said at last. Corp appeared at the window now, andshe pointed to him in terror. Thus had she seen her mother point, inthe long ago, at faces that came there to frighten her.
"Grizel," Tommy entreated her, "you know who I am, don't you?"
She said his name at once, but her eyes were on the window. "They wantto take me away," she whispered.
"But you must come away, Grizel. You must come home."
"This is home," she said. "It is sweet."
After much coaxing, he prevailed upon her to leave. With his arm roundher, and a terrible woe on his face, he took her to the doctor'shouse. She had her hands over her ears all the way. She thought thewhite river and the mountains and the villages and the crack of whipswere marching with her still.