CHAPTER XXXIV
It was after ten o'clock that night when Eleanor's icy fingers fumbledat Mrs. Newbolt's doorbell. The ring was not heard at first, because heraunt and Edith Houghton and Johnny Bennett were celebrating hisdeparture the next day for South America, by making a Welsh rabbit in achafing dish before the parlor fire. Mrs. Newbolt, entering into theoccasion with voluble reminiscences, was having a very good time. Sheliked Youth, and she liked Welsh rabbits, and she liked an audience; andshe had all three! Then the doorbell rang. And again.
"For Heaven's sake!" said Mrs. Newbolt; "at this time of night! Johnny,the girls have gone to bed; you go and answer it, like a good boy."
"Dump in some more beer, Edith," Johnny commanded, and went out into thehall, whistling. A moment later the other two heard his startled voice,"Why, come right in!" There was no reply, just shuffling steps; thenEleanor, silent, without any hat, her hair plastered down her ghastlycheeks, her face bruised and soiled with sand, stood in the doorway, theastonished John Bennett behind her. Everybody spoke at once:
"Eleanor! What has happened?"
"_Eleanor!_ Where is your hat?"
"Good gracious! Eleanor--"
She was perfectly still. Just looking at them, during that blank momentbefore everything became a confusion of jostling assistance. Edithrushed to help her off with her coat. Johnny said, "Mrs. Newbolt, wherecan I get some whisky?" Mrs. Newbolt felt the soaking skirt, and triedto unfasten the belt so that the wet mass might fall to the floor.
Eleanor was rigid. "Get a doctor!" Edith commanded.
Johnny ran to the telephone.
"No," Eleanor whispered.
But nobody paid any attention to her. Johnny, at the telephone, wastelling Mrs. Newbolt's doctor to _hurry_! Mrs. Newbolt herself had run,wheezing, to open the spare-room bed and get out extra blankets, andfill hot-water bottles; then, somehow or other, she and Edith gotEleanor upstairs, undressed her, put her into the big four-poster, andheld a tumbler of hot whisky and water to her lips. By the time DoctorJames arrived she had begun to shiver violently; but she was stillsilent. The trolley ride into town, with staring passengers and aconductor who thought she had been drinking, and tried to be jocose, hadchilled her to the bone, and the gradual dulling of thought had leftonly one thing clear to her: She mustn't go home, because Maurice mightpossibly be there! And if he was, then he would _know_! So she mustgo--somewhere. She went first to Mrs. O'Brien's, climbing the three longflights of stairs and feeling her way along dark entries to the oldwoman's door. She stood there shuddering and knocking; a single gas jet,wavering in the draughty entry, made her shadow lurch on the crackedplaster of the wall; it occurred to her that she would like to put herfrozen hands around the little flame to warm them. Then she knockedagain. There was no answer, so, shaking from head to foot, she felt herway downstairs again to the street, where the reflection of anoccasional gas lamp gleamed and flickered on the wet asphalt. "I'll goto Auntie's," she thought.
She had just one purpose--to get warm! But she was so dazed that shecould never remember how she reached Mrs. Newbolt's; probably shewalked, for there were no cabs in that part of town and no car linepassed Mrs. Newbolt's door. The time after she left Mrs. O'Brien's was ablank. Even when she had swallowed the hot whisky, and began to feelwarmer, she was still mentally benumbed, and couldn't remember what shehad done. She did not notice Johnny Bennett; she saw Edith, but didnot, apparently, understand that she was staying in the house. When thedoctor came she was as silent to him as to everybody else.
He asked no questions. "Keep her warm," he said, "and don't talk toher."
Mrs. Newbolt, going to the door with him, palpitating with fright, said,"_We_ don't know a thing more about what's happened than you do! Shejust appeared, drippin', wet!"
"She has evidently fallen into some water," he said; "but I wouldn't askher about it, yet. Of course we don't know what the result will be, Mrs.Newbolt. I can't help saying I'm anxious. Mr. Curtis had better be sentfor. Telegraph him in the morning." He went off, thinking to himself,"She must have gone into the country to do it. If she'd tried the river,here, and scrambled out, she wouldn't have been so frightfully chilled.I wonder what's up?"
Everybody wondered what was up, but Eleanor did not enlighten them; sothe three interrupted revelers could do nothing but think. Johnny'sthoughts, as he sat down in the parlor among the Welsh-rabbit plates,keeping the fire up, and waiting in case he might be needed, were evenbriefer than the doctor's: "Tried to commit suicide."
Edith, standing in the upper hall, listening to Mrs. Newbolt atEleanor's bedside, exclaiming, and repeating her dear mother's ideasabout catching cold, and offering more hot-water bottles, had herthoughts: "I won't go into the room--she would hate to see me! Thedoctor said she had fallen into some water. Did she--do it on purpose?Oh, _was_ it my fault?" Edith's heart pounded with terror: "Was it whatI said to her in the garden that made her do it?"
Mrs. Newbolt, in a blue-flannel dressing gown, and in and out of thespare room with sibilant whispers of anxiety, had, for once, morethoughts than words; her words were only, "I've always expected it!" Buther thoughts would have filled volumes! Mrs. Newbolt had put her hairin order for the night, and now her crimping pins made the shadow of herhead, bobbing on the ceiling, look like a gigantic spider.
Eleanor had just one hazy thought: "I tried ... I tried--and I failed."
Other people, however, didn't feel so sure that she had failed. She"looks like death," Mrs. Newbolt told Edith the next morning. "We've gotto find Maurice! Edith, why do you suppose she--did it?"
"Oh, but she _didn't_!" Edith said. "What sense would there be--"
"Don't talk about 'sense'! Eleanor never had any. I've telegraphed yourmother to come. I wonder how Bingo is? She understands her. The ashmanhas broken my new ash barrel; I don't know what this country is comin'to!"
Then she went upstairs to try to understand Eleanor herself. "Eleanor,what happened?"
"Nothing. I'm going home this afternoon."
"Indeed you are not! You're not goin' out of this house till Mauricecomes and gets you! _What_ happened?" she demanded again.
"I fell. Into some water."
"How could you 'fall'? And what 'water'?"
"I had gone out to the river--up in Medfield. To--take a walk; andI ... slipped...."
"Now, Eleanor, look here; if I have a virtue, it's candor, and I'll tellyou why; it saves time. That's what my dear father used to say: 'Lyin'wastes time.' I know what you tried to do; and it was very wicked."
"But I didn't do it!"
"You tried to. If you and Maurice have quarreled, I'll stand by _you_."
Eleanor covered her face with her hands--and Mrs. Newbolt burst out,"He's treated you badly! You needn't try to deceive me,--he's beenflirtin' with some woman?" Her pale, prominent eyes snapped with anger.
"Oh, Auntie, don't! He hasn't! Only, I--wanted to make him happier; andso I--" She broke into furious crying. Despairing crying.
Instantly Mrs. Newbolt was all frightened solicitude. "There! Don't cry!Have a hot-water bag. They say there's a new kind on the market. I mustget a new pair of rubbers. Your face is awfully bruised. He's puffectlyhappy! He worships the ground you walk on! Eleanor, don't cry. How'syour cold? The ashman--"
Eleanor, gasping, said her cold was better, and repeated herdetermination of going home.
It was the doctor--dropping in, he said, to make sure Mrs. Curtis wasnone the worse for her "accident"--who put a stop to that.
"I slipped and fell," Eleanor told him; she was very hoarse.
He said yes, he understood. "But you got badly chilled, and you had acold to start with. So you must lie low for two or three days. When willMr. Curtis be back?"
Eleanor said she didn't know; all she knew was she didn't want him sentfor. She was "all right."
But of course he had been sent for! "I don't know that it was reallynecessary," Mrs. Newbolt told Mrs. Houghton, who appeared late in theafternoon; "but I wasn't goin' to take the
responsibility--"
"Of course not!" Mrs. Houghton said. "Mr. Weston has telegraphed him,too, I hope?" Then, before taking her things off, she went upstairs toEleanor. "Well!" she said, "I hear you had an accident? Sensible girl,to stay in bed!" She took Eleanor's hand, and its hot tremor made herlook keenly at the haggard face on the pillow.
"Oh," Eleanor said, with a gasp of relief, "I'm so glad you're here!There are some things I want attended to. I owe--I mean, somebody paidmy car fare. And I _must_ send it to her! And then I want somethingfrom my desk; but I can't have Bridget get it, and I don't want to askAuntie to. It's--it's a letter to Maurice. I wanted to tell himsomething.... But I've changed my mind. I don't want him to see it. Hemustn't see it! Oh, Mrs. Houghton, would you get it for me? I'd be _so_grateful! ... And then,--oh, that five cents! I don't know how I'm goingto send it to her--"
"Tell me who it is, and I'll get it to her; and I'll get the letter,"Mary Houghton told her; and went on with the usual sick-roomencouragement: "The doctor says you are better. But you must hurry andget well, so as to help Maurice with the little boy!"
Her words were like a push against some tottering barrier.
"I tried to help him; I tried to get Jacky! I went to the woman's, butshe wouldn't give him to me! I _tried_--so hard. But she wouldn't! Shepaid my car fare--"
Mrs. Houghton bent over and kissed her: "Tell me about it, dear; perhapsI can help."
"There is no help! ... She won't give him up. She insisted on cominghome with me, and she paid my car fare! Then I thought, if--I were notalive, Maurice could get him, because he could marry her ..."
Instantly, with a thrill of horror and admiration, Mrs. Houghtonunderstood the "accident"! "Eleanor! What a mad, mad thought! As if youcould help Maurice by giving him a great grief! Oh, I do thank God hehas been spared anything so terrible!"
"But," Eleanor said, excitedly, "if I were dead, it would be his duty tomarry her, wouldn't it? Jacky is his child! Oughtn't he to marry Jacky'smother? Oh, Mrs. Houghton, I owe her five cents--"
The older woman was trembling, but she spoke calmly: "Eleanor, dear, youmust live for Maurice, not--die for him."
"Promise me," said Eleanor, "you won't tell him?"
"Of course I won't!" said Mrs. Houghton, with elaborate cheerfulness.She kissed her, and went downstairs, feeling very queer in her knees.She paused at the parlor door to say to Mrs. Newbolt and Edith that shewas going out to do an errand for Eleanor; "I hope Maurice will getback soon," she said. "I don't like Eleanor's looks." Then she went toget that letter which Maurice "must not see." As she walked along thestreet she was still tingling with the shock of having her own theoriesbrought home to her. "Thank God," Mary Houghton said, "that nothinghappened!"
The maid who opened the door at Maurice's house was evidently excited,but not about her mistress. "Oh, Mrs. Houghton!" she said, "we done ourbest, but he wouldn't take a bite!--and I declare I don't know whatMrs. Curtis will say. He just _wouldn't_ eat, and this morning he up anddied--and me offering him a chop!" Bridget wept with real distress."Mrs. Houghton, please tell her we done our best; he just smelled hischop--and died. You see, he hasn't eat a thing, without she gave it tohim, for--oh, more 'n a month!"
Mary Houghton went into the library, where the fire was out, and thedust on tables and chairs bore witness to the fact that Bridget haddevoted herself to Bingo; the room was gloomy, and smelled of soot.Little Bingo lay, stiff and chill, on the sofa; on a plate beside himwas a chop rimmed in cold grease,--poor little, loving, jealous, oldBingo! "I hope it won't upset Mrs. Curtis," Mrs. Houghton told the maid;then gave directions about the stark little body. She found the letterin Eleanor's desk, and went back to Mrs. Newbolt's. "Love," she thought,"_is_ as strong as death; stronger! Bingo--and Eleanor."
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