CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST
Madame Pratolungo Returns to Dimchurch
I REACHED London in the last week of Lucilla's residence under her aunt'sroof, and waited in town until it was time to take her back to Dimchurch.
As soon as it had become obviously too late for Oscar to risk the dreadedmeeting with Lucilla before strangers, his correspondence had, as amatter of course, assumed a brighter tone. She was in high spirits oncemore, poor thing, when we met--and full of delight at having me near heragain. We thoroughly enjoyed our few days in London--and took our fill ofmusic at operas and concerts. I got on excellently well with the auntuntil the last day, when something happened which betrayed me into anavowal of my political convictions.
The old lady's consternation, when she discovered that I looked hopefullyforward to a coming extermination of kings and priests, and a generalre-distribution of property all over the civilized globe, is unutterablein words. On that occasion, I made one more aristocrat tremble. I alsoclosed Miss Batchford's door on me for the rest of my life. No matter!The day is coming when the Batchford branch of humanity will not possessa door to close. All Europe is drifting nearer and nearer to thePratolungo programme. Cheer up, my brothers without land, and my sisterswithout money in the Funds! We will have it out with the infamous richyet. Long live the Republic!
Early in the month of April, Lucilla and I took leave of the Metropolis,and went back to Dimchurch.
As we drew nearer and nearer to the rectory, as Lucilla began to flushand fidget in eager anticipation of her re-union with Oscar, thatuneasiness of mind which I had so readily dismissed while I was in Italy,began to find its way back to me again. My imagination now set to work atdrawing pictures--startling pictures of Oscar as a changed being, as aMedusa's head too terrible to be contemplated by mortal eyes. Where wouldhe meet us? At the entrance to the village? No. At the rectory gate? No.In the quieter part of the garden which was at the back of the house?Yes! There he stood waiting for us--alone!
Lucilla flew into his arms with a cry of delight. I stood behind andlooked at them.
Ah, how vividly I remember--at the moment when she embraced him--thefirst shock of seeing the two faces together! The drug had done its work.I saw her fair cheek laid innocently against the livid blackish blue of_his_ discolored skin. Heavens, how cruelly that first embrace marked thecontrast between what he had been when I left him, and what he hadchanged to when I saw him now! His eyes turned from her face to mine, insilent appeal to me while he held her in his arms. Their look told me thethought in him, as eloquently as if he had put it into words. "You, wholove her, say--can we ever be cruel enough to tell her of _this?_"
I approached to take his hand. At the same moment, Lucilla suddenly drewback from him, laid her left hand on his shoulder, and passed her righthand rapidly over his face.
For an instant I felt my heart stand still. Her miraculous sensitivenessof touch had detected the dark color of my dress, on the day when wefirst met. Would it serve her, this time, as truly as it had served herthen?
She paused, after the first passage of her fingers over his face, withthe breathless attention to what she was about, which, in my own case, Iremembered so well. A second time, she passed her hand overhim--considered again--and turned my way next.
"What does his face tell _you?_" she asked. "It tells _me_ that he hassomething on his mind. What is it?"
We were safe--so far! The hateful medicine, in altering the color, hadnot affected the texture, of his skin. As her touch had left it on herdeparture, so her touch found it again, on her return.
Before I could reply to Lucilla, Oscar answered for himself.
"Nothing is wrong, my darling," he said. "My nerves are a little out oforder to-day; and the joy of seeing you again has overcome me for themoment--that is all."
She shook her head impatiently.
"No," she said, "it's not all." She touched his heart. "Why is it beatingso fast?" She took his hand in hers. "Why has it turned so cold? I mustknow. I _will_ know! Come indoors."
At that awkward moment, the most wearisome of living men suddenly provedhimself to be the most welcome of living men. The rector appeared in thegarden, to receive his daughter on her return. Enfolded in ReverendFinch's paternal embraces; harangued by Reverend Finch's prodigiousvoice, Lucilla was effectually silenced--the subject was inevitablychanged. Oscar drew me aside out of hearing, while her attention wasdiverted from him.
"I saw you," he said. "_You_ were horrified at the first sight of me._You_ were relieved when you found that her touch told her nothing. Helpme to keep her from suspecting it, for two months more--and you will bethe best friend that ever man had."
"Two months?" I repeated.
"Yes. If there is no return of the fits in two months, the doctor willconsider my recovery complete. Lucilla and I may be married at the end ofthe time."
"My friend Oscar, are you contemplating a fraud on Lucilla?"
"What do you mean?"
"Come! come! you know what I mean! Is it honorable first to entrap herinto marrying you--and then to confess to her the color of your face?"
He sighed bitterly.
"I shall fill her with horror of me, if I confess it. Look at me! look atme!" he said, lifting his ghastly hands in despair to his blue face.
I was determined not to give way--even to that.
"Be a man!" I said. "Own it boldly. What is she going to marry you for?For your face that she can never see? No! For your heart that is one withher own. Trust to her natural good sense--and, better than that, to thedevoted love that you have inspired in her. She will see her stupidprejudice in its true light, when she feels it trying to part her from_you._"
"No! no! no! Remember her letter to her father. I shall lose her forever, if I tell her now!"
I took his arm, and endeavored to lead him to Lucilla. She as alreadytrying to escape from her father; she was already longing to hear thesound of Oscar's voice again.
He obstinately shrank back. I began to feel angry with him. In anothermoment, I should have said or done something that I might have repentedof afterwards--if a new interruption had not happened before I could openmy lips.
Another person appeared in the garden--the man-servant from Browndown;with a letter for his master in his hand.
"This has just come, sir," said the man, "by the afternoon post. It ismarked 'Immediate.' I thought I had better bring it to you here."
Oscar took the letter, and looked at the address. "My brother's writing!"he exclaimed. "A letter from Nugent!"
He opened the letter--and burst out with a cry of joy which broughtLucilla instantly to his side.
"What is it?" she asked eagerly.
"Nugent is coming back! Nugent will be here in a week! Oh, Lucilla! mybrother is coming to stay with me at Browndown!"
He caught her in his arms, and kissed her, in the first rapture ofreceiving that welcome news. She forced herself away from him withoutanswering a word. She turned her poor blind face round and round, in thesearch for me.
"Here I am!" I said.
She roughly and angrily put her arm in mine. I saw the jealous misery inher face as she dragged me away with here to the house. Never yet hadOscar's voice, in _her_ experience of him, sounded the note of happinessthat she heard in it now! Never yet had she felt Oscar's heart on Oscar'slips, as she felt it when he kissed her in the first joy of anticipatingNugent's return!
"Can he hear me?" she whispered, when we had left the lawn, and she feltthe gravel under her feet.
"No. What is it?"
"I hate his brother!"
Poor Miss Finch Page 26
