Poor Miss Finch

by Wilkie Collins

  CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH

  First Result of the Robbery

  BETWEEN five and six weeks passed. Oscar was out of his bed-room, and waswell of his wound.

  During this lapse of time, Lucilla steadily pursued that process of herown of curing him, which was to end in marrying him. Never had I seensuch nursing before--never do I expect to see such nursing again. Frommorning to night, she interested him, and kept him in good spirits. Thecharming creature actually made her blindness a means of lightening theweary hours of the man she loved.

  Sometimes, she would sit before Oscar's looking-glass, and imitate allthe innumerable tricks, artifices, and vanities of a coquette arrayingherself for conquest--with such wonderful truth and humour of mimicry,that you would have sworn she possessed the use of her eyes. Sometimes,she would show him her extraordinary power of calculating by the sound ofa person's voice, the exact position which that person occupied towardsher in a room. Selecting me as the victim, she would first provideherself with one of the nosegays always placed by her own hands atOscar's bedside; and would then tell me to take up my positionnoiselessly in any part of the room that I pleased, and to say "Lucilla."The instant the words were out of my mouth, the nosegay flew from herhand, and hit me on the face. She never once missed her aim, on any oneof the occasions when this experiment was tried--and she never onceflagged in her childish enjoyment of the exhibition of her own skill.

  Nobody was allowed to pour out Oscar's medicine but herself. She knewwhen the spoon into which it was to be measured was full, by the soundwhich the liquid made in falling into it. When he was able to sit up inhis bed, and when she was standing at the pillow-side, she could tell himhow near his head was to hers, by the change which he produced, when hebent forward or when he drew back, in the action of the air on her face.In the same way, she knew as well as he knew, when the sun was out andwhen it was behind a cloud--judging by the differing effect of the air,at such times, on her forehead and on her cheeks.

  All the litter of little objects accumulating in a sick-room, she kept inperfect order on a system of her own. She delighted in putting the roomtidy late in the evening, when we helpless people who could see werebeginning to think of lighting the candles. The time when we could justdiscern her, flitting to and fro in the dusk, in her bright summerdress--now visible as she passed the window, now lost in the shadows atthe end of the room--was the time when she began to clear the tables ofthe things that had been wanted in the day, and to replace them by thethings which would be wanted at night. We were only allowed to light thecandles when they showed us the room magically put in order during thedarkness as if the fairies had done it. She laughed scornfully at oursurprise, and said she sincerely pitied the poor useless people who couldonly see!

  The same pleasure which she had in arranging the room in the dark shealso felt in wandering all over the house in the dark, and in makingherself thoroughly acquainted with every inch of it from top to bottom.As soon as Oscar was well enough to go down-stairs, she insisted onleading him.

  "You have been so long up in your bedroom," she said, "that you must haveforgotten the rest of the house. Take my arm--and come along. Now we areout in the passage. Mind! there is a step down, just at this place. Andnow a step up again. Here is a sharp corner to turn at the top of thestaircase. And there is a rod out of the stair-carpet, and an awkwardfold in it that might throw you down." So she took him into his owndrawing-room, as if it was he that was blind, and she who had the use ofher eyes. Who could resist such a nurse as this? Is it wonderful that Iheard a sound suspiciously like the sound of a kiss, on that first day ofconvalescence, when I happened for a moment to be out of the room? Istrongly suspected her of leading the way in that also. She was sowonderfully composed when I came back--and he was so wonderfullyflurried.

  In a week from his convalescence, Lucilla completed the cure of thepatient. In other words, she received from Oscar an offer of marriage. Ihave not the slightest doubt, in my own mind, that he required assistancein bringing this delicate matter to a climax--and that Lucilla helpedhim.

  I may be right or I may be wrong about this. But I can at least certifythat Lucilla was in such mad high spirits when she told me the news outin the garden, on a lovely autumn morning, that she actually danced forjoy--and, more improper still, she made me, at my discreet time of life,dance too. She took me round the waist, and we waltzed on the grass--Mrs.Finch standing by in the condemned blue merino jacket (with the baby inone hand and the novel in the other), and warning us both that if we losthalf an hour out of our day, in whirling each other round the lawn, weshould never succeed in picking it up again in that house. We went onwhirling, for all that, until we were both out of breath. Nothing shortof downright exhaustion could tame Lucilla. As for me, I am, I sincerelybelieve, the rashest person of my age now in existence. (What is my age?Ah, I am always discreet about that; it is the one exception.) Set downmy rashness to my French nationality, my easy conscience, and myexcellent stomach--and let us go on with our story.

  There was a private interview at Browndown, later on that day, betweenOscar and Reverend Finch.

  Of what passed on that occasion, I was not informed. The rector came backamong us with his head high in the air, strutting magnificently on hiswizen little legs. He embraced his daughter in pathetic silence, and gaveme his hand with a serene smile of condescension worthy of the greatesthumbug (say Louis the Fourteenth) that ever sat on a throne. When he gotthe better of his paternal emotion, and began to speak, his voice was sobig that I really thought it must have burst him. The vapor of words inwhich he enveloped himself (condensed on paper) amounted to these twostatements. First, that he hailed in Oscar (not having, I suppose,children enough already of his own) the advent of another son. Secondly,that he saw the finger of Providence in everything that had happened.Alas, for me! My irreverent French nature saw nothing but the finger ofFinch--in Oscar's pocket.

  The wedding-day was not then actually fixed. It was only generallyarranged that the marriage should take place in about six weeks.

  This interval was intended to serve a double purpose. It was to give thelawyers time to prepare the marriage settlements, and to give Oscar timeto completely recover his health. Some anxiety was felt by all of us onthis latter subject. His wound was well, and his mind was itself again.But still there was something wrong with him, for all that.

  Those curious contradictions in his character which I have alreadymentioned, showed themselves more strangely than ever. The man who hadfound the courage (when his blood was up) to measure himself alone andunarmed against two robbers, was now unable to enter the room in whichthe struggle had taken place, without trembling from head to foot. He,who had laughed at me when I begged him not to sleep in the house byhimself, now had two men (a gardener and an indoor servant) domiciled atBrowndown to protect him--and felt no sense of security even in that. Hewas constantly dreaming that the ruffian with the "life-preserver" wasattacking him again, or that he was lying bleeding on the floor andcoaxing Jicks to venture within reach of his hand. If any of us hinted athis occupying himself once more with his favorite art, he stopped hisears, and entreated us not to renew his horrible associations with thepast. He would not even look at his box of chasing tools. Thedoctor--summoned to say what was the matter with him--told us that hisnervous system had been shaken, and frankly acknowledged that there wasnothing to be done but to wait until time set it right again.

  I am afraid I must confess that I myself took no very indulgent view ofthe patient's case.

  It was his duty to exert himself--as I thought. He appeared to me to betoo indolent to make a proper effort to better his own condition. Lucillaand I had more than one animated discussion about him. On a certainevening when we were at the piano gossiping, and playing in theintervals, she was downright angry with me for not sympathizing with herdarling as unreservedly as she did. "I have noticed one thing, MadamePratolungo," she said to me, with a flushed face and a heightened tone."You have never done Oscar jus
tice from the first."

  (Mark those trifling words. The time is coming when you will hear of themagain.)

  The preparations for the contemplated marriage went on. The lawyersproduced their sketch of the settlement; and Oscar wrote (to an addressin New York, given to him by Nugent) to tell his brother of theapproaching change in his life, and of the circumstances which hadbrought it about.

  The marriage settlement was not shown to me; but, from certain signs andtokens, I guessed that Oscar's perfect disinterestedness on the questionof money had been turned to profitable account by Oscar's futurefather-in-law. Reverend Finch was reported to have shed tears when hefirst read the document. And Lucilla came out of the study, after aninterview with her father, more thoroughly and vehemently indignant thanI had ever seen her yet. "Don't ask what is the matter!" she said to mebetween her teeth. "I am ashamed to tell you." When Oscar came in, alittle later, she fell on her knees--literally on her knees--before him.Some overmastering agitation was in possession of her whole being, whichmade her, for the moment, reckless of what she said or did. "I worshipyou!" she burst out hysterically, kissing his hand. "You are the noblestof living men. I can never, never be worthy of you!" The interpretationof these high-flown sayings and doings was, to my mind, briefly this:Oscar's money in the rector's pocket, and the rector's daughter used asthe means.

  The interval expired; the weeks succeeded each other. All had been longsince ready for the marriage--and still the marriage did not take place.

  Far from becoming himself again, with time to help him--as the doctor hadforetold--Oscar steadily grew worse. All the nervous symptoms (to use themedical phrase) which I have already described, strengthened instead ofloosening their hold on him. He grew thinner and thinner, and paler andpaler. Early in the month of November, we sent for the doctor again. Thequestion to be put to him this time, was the question (suggested byLucilla) of trying as a last remedy change of air.

  Something--I forget what--delayed the arrival of our medical man. Oscarhad given up all idea of seeing him that day, and had come to us at therectory--when the doctor drove into Dimchurch. He was stopped before hewent on to Browndown; and he and his patient saw each other alone inLucilla's sitting-room.

  They were a long time together. Lucilla, waiting with me in mybed-chamber, grew impatient. She begged me to knock at the sitting-roomdoor, and inquire when she might be permitted to assist at theconsultation.

  I found doctor and patient standing together at the window, talkingquietly. Evidently, nothing had passed to excite either of them in thesmallest degree. Oscar looked a little pale and weary--but he, like hismedical adviser, was perfectly composed.

  "There is a young lady in the next room," I said, "who is getting anxiousto hear what your consultation has ended in."

  The doctor looked at Oscar, and smiled.

  "There is really nothing to tell Miss Finch," he said. "Mr. Dubourg and Ihave gone all over the case again--and nothing new has come of it. Hisnervous system has not recovered its balance so soon as I expected. I amsorry--but I am not in the least alarmed. At his age, things are sure tocome right in the end. He must be patient, and the young lady must bepatient. I can say no more."

  "Do you see any objection to his trying change of air?" I inquired.

  "None, whatever! Let him go where he likes, and amuse himself as helikes. You are all of you a little disposed to take Mr. Dubourg's casetoo seriously. Except the nervous derangement (unpleasant enough initself, I grant), there is really nothing the matter with him. He has nota trace of organic disease anywhere. The pulse," continued the doctor,laying his fingers lightly on Oscar's wrist, "is perfectly satisfactory.I never felt a quieter pulse in my life."

  As the words passed his lips, a frightful contortion fastened itself onOscar's face.

  His eyes turned up hideously.

  From head to foot his whole body was wrenched round, as if giant handshad twisted it, towards the right.

  Before I could speak, he was in convulsions on the floor at his doctor'sfeet.

  "Good God, what is this!" I cried out.

  The doctor loosened his cravat, and moved away the furniture that wasnear him. That done, he waited--looking at the writhing figure on thefloor.

  "Can you do nothing more?" I asked.

  He shook his head gravely. "Nothing more."

  "What is it?"

  "An epileptic fit."