CHAPTER V
THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND
"O God, give me rest!"
Painfully the words came through quivering lips, the first they haduttered for hours. Lucas Errol lay, as he had lain for nearly threemonths, with his face to the ceiling, his body stretched straight andrigid, ever in the same position, utterly helpless and weary unto death.
Day after day he lay there, never stirring save when they made him bendhis knees, an exercise upon which the doctor daily insisted, but whichwas agony to him. Night after night, sleepless, he waited the coming ofthe day. His general health varied but little, but his weakness wastelling upon him. His endurance still held, but it was wearing thin. Hisold cheeriness was gone, though he summoned it back now and again withpiteous, spasmodic effort. Hope and despair were fighting together in hissoul, and at that time despair was uppermost. He had set out with a braveheart, but the goal was still far off, and he was beginning to falter. Hehad ceased to make any progress, and the sheer monotony of existence waswearing him out. The keen, shrewd eyes were dull and listless. At theopening of the door he did not even turn his head.
And yet it was Anne who entered, Anne with the flush of exercise on hersweet face, her hands full of Russian violets.
"See how busy I have been!" she said. "I am not disturbing you? Youweren't asleep?"
"I never sleep," he answered, and he did not look at her or the violets;he kept his eyes upon the ceiling.
She came and sat beside him. "I gathered them all myself," she said."Don't you want to smell them?"
He moved his lips without replying, and she leaned down, her eyes full ofthe utmost compassionate tenderness and held the violets to him. Heraised a hand with evident effort and fumblingly took her wrist. Hepressed the wet flowers against his face.
"It's a shame to bring them here, Lady Carfax," he said, letting her go."Take them--wear them! I guess they'll be happier with you."
She smiled a little. "Should I have gathered all this quantity formyself? It has taken me nearly an hour."
"You should have told the gardener," he said. "You mustn't go tiringyourself out over me. I'm not worth it." He added, with that kindlycourtesy of which adversity had never deprived him, "But I'm realgrateful all the same. You mustn't think me unappreciative."
"I don't," she answered gently. "Wouldn't you like them in water?"
"Ah, yes," he said. "Put them near me. I shall smell them if I can't seethem. Do you mind closing the window? I can't get warm to-day."
She moved to comply, passing across his line of vision. A moment shestood with the keen sweet air blowing in upon her, a tall, graciousfigure in the full flower of comely womanhood, not beautiful, butpossessing in every line of her that queenly, indescribable charm whichis greater than beauty.
The man caught his breath as he watched her. His brows contracted.
Softly she closed the window and turned. She came back to her chairby his side, drew forward a little table, and began deftly to arrangeher flowers.
Several seconds passed before Lucas broke the silence. "It does me goodto watch you," he said. "You're always so serene."
She smiled at him across the violets. "You place serenity among thehigher virtues?"
"I do," he said simply. "It's such a restful contrast to thestrenuousness of life. You make me feel just by looking at you thateverything's all right. You bring a peaceful atmosphere in with you,and"--his voice sank a little--"you take it away again when you go."
The smile went out of her grey eyes at his last words, but thesteadfastness remained. "Then," she said gently, "I must come more oftenand stay longer."
But he instantly negatived that. "No--it wouldn't be good for you. Itwouldn't be good for me either to get to lean on you too much. I shouldgrow exacting."
She saw a gleam of his old smile as he spoke, but it was gone at once,lost among the countless lines that pain and weariness had drawn of lateupon his face.
"I don't think that is very likely," Anne said. "I can't imagine it."
"Not yet perhaps. I haven't quite reached that stage. Maybe I shall bedown and out before it comes. God grant it!"
The words were too deliberate to cause her any shock. They were,moreover, not wholly unexpected. There followed a short silence while shefinished arranging her violets. Then very quietly she spoke:
"You say that because you are tired."
"I am more than tired," he answered. "I'm done. I'm beaten. I'm whippedoff the field."
"You think you are not gaining ground?" she questioned.
"My dear Lady Carfax," he said quietly, "it's no use closing one's eyesto the obvious. I'm losing ground every day--every night."
"But you are not fighting," she said.
"No." He looked at her half-wistfully from under his heavy eyelids. "Doyou think me quite despicable? I've done my best."
She was silent. Perhaps she was not fully prepared to cope with this openadmission of failure.
"I've done my best," he said again. "But it's outlasted my strength. I'mlike a man hanging on to the edge of a precipice. I know every instantthat my grip is slackening, and I can't help it. I've got to drop."
"You haven't done your best yet," Anne said, her voice very low. "You'vegot to hold on to the very end. It may be help is nearer than you think."
"But if I don't want help?" he said. "If it would be more merciful tolet me go?"
Again she was silent.
"You know," he said, "life hasn't many inducements. I've put up a fightfor it because I gave my promise to Nap before he went. But it isn't goodenough to keep on. I can't win through. The odds are too great."
"Do you think Nap would let you stop fighting?" she said.
He smiled again faintly. "I suppose--if he were here--I should subsist onhis vitality for a little while. But the end would be the same. Even hecan't work miracles."
"Don't you believe in miracles?" Anne said.
He looked at her interrogatively.
"Mr. Errol," she said, "I am going to remind you of something that Ithink you have forgotten. It was Dr. Capper who told me. It was when youwere recovering consciousness after the operation. You sent me a message.'Tell Anne,' you said, 'I am going to get well.'" She paused a moment,looking at him very steadily. "I don't know why exactly you sent thatspecial message to me, but I have carried it in my heart ever since."
She had moved him at last. She saw a faint glow spread slowly over thetired face. The heavy eyes opened wide to meet her look.
"Did I say that?" he said. "Yes, I had forgotten."
He was silent for a little, gazing full at her with the eyes of onesuddenly awakened.
She lowered her own, and bent her face to the violets. Though she hadspoken so quietly it had not been without effort. She had not foundit easy. Nor did she find his silence easy, implicitly though shetrusted him.
Perhaps he understood, for when he spoke at length there was in hisvoice so reassuring a gentleness that on the instant herembarrassment passed.
"Anne," he said, "do you really want me to get well? Would such a miraclemake much difference to you?"
"It would make all the difference in the world," she answered earnestly."I want it more than anything else in life."
With the words she raised her eyes, found his fixed upon her with anexpression so new, so tender, that her heart stirred within her as aflower that expands in sudden sunshine, and the next moment his hand laybetween her own, and all doubt, all hesitation had fled.
"But, my dear," he said, "I always thought it was Nap. Surely it wasNap!"
She felt as if something had stabbed her. "No, never!" she saidpassionately. "Never! It might have been--once--before I knew him. Butnever since, never since!"
"That so?" said Lucas Errol, and was silent for a little. Then,"Anne"--and the soft drawl had in it a tremor that was almost a break--"Iguess I do believe in miracles after all, dear. Anyway," he began tosmile, "there are some things in life too mighty for explanation."
His face w
as turned towards her. There was something in the look it worethat seemed to her in some fashion superb. He was different from othermen. That quiet kingliness of his was so natural to him, so sublimelyfree from arrogance. He was immeasurably greater than his fellows byreason of the very smallness of his self-esteem.
"Guess I must take up my burden again and step out," he said. "You won'tcatch me slacking any after this. And--if I don't win out, dear, you'llknow that it just wasn't possible because God didn't will it so."
"Oh, but you will!" she said, clasping his hand more closely. "You will!God knows how badly I want you."
"His Will be done!" said Lucas Errol. "But I want you too, dearest. Iwant you too."
His fingers stirred in her hold. It was the merest movement, but sheknew his meaning. She slipped to her knees by his side, leaned down andkissed him.
The Knave of Diamonds Page 43
