Читать книгу The Coil of Carne - John Oxenham - Страница 8

She must know. She could not wait. She turned towards the passage.

"I will go and see," she said.

"Ay, go," said the old woman. "But go soft."

The doctor was sitting at the bedside. He raised his hand when she entered the room, but did not turn. She stood and watched, and suddenly all her weariness came on her and she felt like falling. She leaned against the wall and waited.

Once and again the doctor spoke to the woman on the bed. But there was no answer. He sat with furrowed face watching her, and the girl leaned against the wall and watched them both.

And at last the one on the bed answered--not the doctor, but a greater healer still. One long sigh, just as the sun began to touch the rippled flats with gold, and it was over. The stormy night was over and peace had come with the morning.

The doctor gat up with something very like a scowl on his face and went to the window. Even in the Presence he had to close his mouth firmly lest the lava should break out.

He hated to be beaten in the fight--the endless fight to which his whole life was given, year in, year out. But this had been no fair fight. The battle was lost before he came on the field, and his resentment was hot against whoever was to blame.

He opened the casement and leaned out to cool his head. The sweet morning air was like a kiss. He drank in a big breath or two, and, after another pained look at the white face on the pillow, he turned and left the room. The girl had already gone, and as she went down the passage there was a gleam in her eyes.

Her mother saw it as soon as she entered the kitchen. "Well?" asked the old woman.

"She's gone."

"And yo're glad of it. Shame on yo', girl! And yo' but just safe through it yoreself!"

The girl made no reply, and a moment later the doctor came in.

"Now, Mrs. Lee, explain things to me. Whose infernal folly brought that poor thing rattling over the country in that condition? And get me a cup of coffee, will you? Child all right?"

"He's all right, doctor. He's sleeping quiet there"--pointing to a heap of shawls on the hearth. "It were Sir Denzil himself brought her last night."

"And why didn't he stop to see the result of his damned stupidity? It's sheer murder, nothing less. Make it as strong as you can,"--referring to the coffee--"my head's buzzing. I haven't had a minute's rest for twenty-four hours. Where is Sir Denzil? He left word at my house to come over here first thing this morning. I expected to find him here."

"He went back wi the carriage that brought 'em. There's trouble afoot about Mr. Denzil as I understond. He said it were life and death, and he were off again inside an hour."

"Ah!" said the doctor, nodding his head knowingly. "That's it, is it? And you don't know what the trouble was?"

"'Life and death,' he said. That's all I know."

"Well, if he bungles the other business as he has done this it'll not need much telling which it'll be." And he blew on his coffee to cool it.

"I must send him word at once," he said presently, "and I'll tell him what I think about it. I've got his town address. You can see to the child all right, I suppose? Another piece of that bread, if you please. Any more coffee there? This kind of thing makes me feel empty."

"I'll see to t' child aw reet."

"Send me word if you need me, not otherwise. There's typhus down Wyvveloe way, and I'm run off my legs. A dog's life, dame--little thanks and less pay!" And he buttoned up his coat fiercely and strode out to his gig. "I'll send John Braddle out," he called back over his shoulder. "But I doubt if we can wait to hear from Sir Denzil. However----" And he drove away, through the slanting morning sunshine.

The white sand-hills smiled happily, the wide flats blazed like a rippled mirror, the sky was brightest blue, and very far away the sea slept quietly behind its banks of yellow sand.