The Rosary

by Florence L. Barclay

  CHAPTER XXIII

  THE ONLY WAY

  When Deryck Brand alighted at the little northern wayside station, helooked up and down the gravelled platform, more than half expecting tosee Jane. The hour was early, but she invariably said "So much thebetter" to any plan which involved rising earlier than usual. Nothingwas to be seen, however, but his portmanteau in the distance--lookingas if it had taken up a solitary and permanent position where the guardhad placed it--and one slow porter, who appeared to be overwhelmed bythe fact that he alone was on duty to receive the train.

  There were no other passengers descending; there was no other baggageto put out. The guard swung up into his van as the train moved off.

  The old porter, shading his eyes from the slanting rays of the morningsun, watched the train glide round the curve and disappear from sight;then slowly turned and looked the other way,--as if to make sure therewas not another coming,--saw the portmanteau, and shambled towards it.He stood looking down upon it pensively, then moved slowly round,apparently reading the names and particulars of all the variouscontinental hotels at which the portmanteau had recently stayed withits owner.

  Dr. Brand never hurried people, He always said: "It answers best, inthe long run, to let them take their own time. The minute or two gainedby hurrying them is lost in the final results." But this appliedchiefly to patients in the consulting-room; to anxious young studentsin hospital; or to nurses, too excitedly conscious at first of the factthat he was talking to them, to take in fully what he was saying. Hishabit of giving people, even in final moments, the full time theywanted, had once lost him an overcoat, almost lost him a train, and wonhim the thing in life he most desired. But that belongs to anotherstory.

  Meanwhile he wanted his breakfast on this fresh spring morning. And hewanted to see Jane. Therefore, as porter and portmanteau made noadvance towards him, the doctor strode down the platform.

  "Now then, my man!" he called.

  "I beg your pardon?" said the Scotch porter.

  "I want my portmanteau."

  "Would this be your portmanteau?" inquired the porter doubtfully.

  "It would," said the doctor. "And it and I would be on our way toCastle Gleneesh, if you would be bringing it out and putting it intothe motor, which I see waiting outside."

  "I will be fetching a truck," said the porter. But when he returned,carefully trundling it behind him, the doctor, the portmanteau, and themotor were all out of sight.

  The porter shaded his eyes and gazed up the road.

  "I will be hoping it WAS his portmanteau," he said, and went back tohis porridge.

  Meanwhile the doctor sped up into the hills, his mind alight witheagerness to meet Jane and to learn the developments of the last fewdays. Her non-appearance at the railway station filled him with anundefinable anxiety. It would have been so like Jane to have beenthere, prompt to seize the chance of a talk with him alone before hereached the house. He had called up, in anticipation, such a vividpicture of her, waiting on the platform,--bright, alert, vigorous, withthat fresh and healthy vigour which betokens a good night's rest, apleasant early awakening, and a cold tub recently enjoyed,--and thedisappointment of not seeing her had wrought in him a strangeforeboding. What if her nerve had given way under the strain?

  They turned a bend in the winding road, and the grey turrets ofGleneesh came in sight, high up on the other side of the glen, the moorstretching away behind and above it. As they wound up the valley to themoorland road which would bring them round to the house, the doctorcould see, in the clear morning light, the broad lawn and terrace ofGleneesh, with its gay flower-beds, smooth gravelled walks, and broadstone parapet, from which was a drop almost sheer down into the glenbelow.

  Simpson received him at the hall door; and he just stopped himself intime, as he was about to ask for Miss Champion. This perilous approachto a slip reminded him how carefully he must guard words and actions inthis house, where Jane had successfully steered her intricate course.He would never forgive himself if he gave her away.

  "Mr. Dalmain is in the library, Sir Deryck," said Simpson; and it was avery alert, clear-headed doctor who followed the man across the hall.

  Garth rose from his chair and walked forward to meet him, his righthand outstretched, a smile of welcome on his face, and so direct andunhesitating a course that the doctor had to glance at the sightlessface to make sure that this lithe, graceful, easy-moving figure wasindeed the blind man he had come to see. Then he noticed a length ofbrown silk cord stretched from an arm of the chair Garth had quitted tothe door. Garth's left hand had slipped lightly along it as he walked.

  The doctor put his hand into the one outstretched, and gripped itwarmly.

  "My dear fellow! What a change!"

  "Isn't it?" said Garth delightedly. "And it is entirely she who hasworked it,--the capital little woman you sent up to me. I want to tellyou how first-rate she is." He had reached his chair again, and foundand drew forward for the doctor the one in which Jane usually sat,"this is her own idea." He unhitched the cord, and let it fall to thefloor, a fine string remaining attached to it and to the chair, bywhich he could draw it up again at will. "There is one on this sideleading to the piano, and one here to the window. Now how should youknow them apart?"

  "They are brown, purple, and orange," replied the doctor.

  "Yes," said Garth. "You know them by the colours, but I distinguishthem by a slight difference in the thickness and in the texture, whichyou could not see, but which I can feel. And I enjoy thinking of thecolours, too. And sometimes I wear ties and things to match them. Yousee, I know exactly how they look; and it was so like her to rememberthat. An ordinary nurse would have put red, green, and blue, and Ishould have sat and hated the thought of them knowing how vilely theymust be clashing with my Persian carpet. But she understands how muchcolours mean to me, even though I cannot see them."

  "I conclude that by 'she' you mean Nurse Rosemary," said the doctor. "Iam glad she is a success."

  "A success!" exclaimed Garth. "Why, she helped me to live again! I amashamed to remember how at the bottom of all things I was when you cameup before, Brand,--just pounding the wall, as old Robbie expresses it.You must have thought me a fool and a coward."

  "I thought you neither, my dear fellow. You were coming through astiffer fight than any of us have been called to face. Thank God, youhave won."

  "I owe a lot to you, Brand, and still more to Miss Gray. I wish shewere here to see you. She is away for the week-end."

  "Away! J--just now?" exclaimed the doctor, almost surprised intoanother slip.

  "Yes; she went last night. She is week-ending in the neighbourhood. Shesaid she was not going far, and should be back with me early on Mondaymorning. But she seemed to want a change of scene, and thought this agood opportunity, as I shall have you here most of the time. I say,Brand, I do think it is extraordinarily good of you to come all thisway to see me. You know, from such a man as yourself it is almostoverwhelming."

  "You must not be overwhelmed, my dear chap; and, though I very trulycame to see you, I am also up, about another old friend in the nearneighbourhood in whom I am interested. I only mention this in order tobe quite honest, and to lift from off you any possible burden offeeling yourself my only patient."

  "Oh, thanks!" said Garth. "It lessens my compunction withoutdiminishing my gratitude. And now you must be wanting a brush up andbreakfast, and here am I selfishly keeping you from both. And I say,Brand,"--Garth coloured hotly, boyishly, and hesitated,--"I am awfullysorry you will have no companion at your meals, Miss Gray being away. Ido not like to think of you having them alone, but I--I always havemine by myself. Simpson attends to them."

  He could not see the doctor's quick look of comprehension, but theunderstanding sympathy of the tone in which he said: "Ah, yes. Yes, ofcourse," without further comment, helped Garth to add: "I couldn't evenhave Miss Gray with me. We always take our meals apart. You cannotimagine how awful it is chasing your food all round your plate, andnever sure
it is not on the cloth, after all, or on your tie, while youare hunting for it elsewhere."

  "No, I can't imagine," said the doctor. "No one could who had not beenthrough it. But can you bear it better with Simpson than with NurseRosemary? She is trained to that sort of thing, you know."

  Garth coloured again. "Well, you see, Simpson is the chap who shavesme, and gets me into my clothes, and takes me about; and, though itwill always be a trial, it is a trial to which I am growing accustomed.You might put it thus: Simpson is eyes to my body; Miss Gray is visionto my mind. Simpson's is the only touch which cores to me in thedarkness. Do you know, Miss Gray has never touched me,--not even toshake hands. I am awfully glad of this. I will tell you why presently,if I may. It makes her just a MIND and VOICE to me, and nothing more;but a wonderfully kind and helpful voice. I feel as if I could not livewithout her."

  Garth rang the bell and Simpson appeared.

  "Take Sir Deryck to his room; and he will tell you what time he wouldlike breakfast. And when you have seen to it all, Simpson, I will goout for a turn. Then I shall be free, Brand, when you are. But do notgive me any more time this morning if you ought to be resting, or outon the moors having a holiday from minds and men."

  The doctor tubbed and got into his knickerbockers and an old Norfolkjacket; then found his way to the dining-room, and did full justice toan excellent breakfast. He was still pondering the problem of Jane, andat the same time wondering in another compartment of his mind in whatsort of machine old Margery made her excellent coffee, when that goodlady appeared, enveloped in an air of mystery, and the doctorimmediately propounded the question.

  "A jug," said old Margery. "And would you be coming with me, SirDeryck,--and softly, whenever you have finished your breakfast?"

  "Softly," said Margery again, as they crossed the hall, the doctor'stall figure closely following in her portly wake. After mounting a fewstairs she turned to whisper impressively: "It is not what ye make itIN; it is HOW ye make it." She ascended a few more steps, then turnedto say: "It all hangs upon the word FRESH," and went on mounting."Freshly roasted--freshly ground--water--freshly-boiled--" said oldMargery, reaching the topmost stair somewhat breathless; then turning,bustled along a rather dark passage, thickly carpeted, and hung withold armour and pictures.

  "Where are we going, Mistress Margery?" asked the doctor, adapting hisstride to her trot--one to two.

  "You will be seeing whenever we get there, Sir Deryck," said Margery."And never touch it with metal, Sir Deryck. Pop it into an earthenwarejug, pour your boiling water straight upon it, stir it with a woodenspoon, set it on the hob ten minutes to settle; the grounds will all goto the bottom, though you might not think it; and you pour itout--fragrant, strong, and clear. But the secret is, fresh, fresh,fresh, and don't stint your coffee."

  Old Margery paused before a door at the end of the passage, knockedlightly; then looked up at the doctor with her hand on the door-handle,and an expression of pleading earnestness in her faithful Scotch eyes.

  "And you will not forget the wooden spoon, Sir Deryck?"

  The doctor looked down into the kind old face raised to his in the dimlight. "I will not forget the wooden spoon, Mistress Margery," he said,gravely. And old Margery, turning the handle whispered mysteriouslyinto the half-opened doorway: "It will be Sir Deryck, Miss Gray," andushered the doctor into a cosy little sitting-room.

  A bright fire burned in the grate. In a high-backed arm-chair in frontof it sat Jane, with her feet on the fender. He could only see the topof her head, and her long grey knees; but both were unmistakably Jane's:

  "Oh, Dicky!" she said, and a great thankfulness was in her voice, "isit you? Oh, come in, Boy, and shut the door. Are we alone? Come roundhere quick and shake hands, or I shall be plunging about trying to findyou."

  In a moment the doctor had reached the hearth-rug, dropped on one kneein front of the large chair, and took the vaguely groping hands heldout to him.

  "Jeanette?" he said. "Jeanette!" And then surprise and emotion silencedhim.

  Jane's eyes were securely bandaged. A black silk scarf, folded in fourthicknesses, was firmly tied at the back of her smooth coils of hair.There was a pathetic helplessness about her large capable figure,sitting alone, in this bright little sitting-room, doing nothing.

  "Jeanette!" said the doctor, for the third time. "And you call thisweek-ending?"

  "Dear," said Jane, "I have gone into Sightless Land for my week-end.Oh, Deryck, I had to do it. The only way really to help him is to knowexactly what it means, in all the small, trying details. I never hadmuch imagination, and I have exhausted what little I had. And he nevercomplains, or explains how things come hardest. So the only way to findout is to have forty-eight hours of it one's self. Old Margery andSimpson quite enter into it, and are helping me splendidly. Simpsonkeeps the coast clear if we want to come down or go out; because withtwo blind people about, it would be a complication if they ran into oneanother. Margery helps me with all the things in which I am helpless;and, oh Dicky, you would never believe how many they are! And theawful, awful dark--a black curtain always in front of you, sometimesseeming hard and firm, like a wall of coal, within an inch of yourface; sometimes sinking away into soft depths of blackness--miles andmiles of distant, silent, horrible darkness; until you feel you mustfall forward into it and be submerged and overwhelmed. And out of thatdarkness come voices. And if they speak loudly, they hit you liketapping hammers; and if they murmur indistinctly, they madden youbecause you can't SEE what is causing it. You can't see that they areholding pins in their mouths, and that therefore they are mumbling; orthat they are half under the bed, trying to get out something which hasrolled there, and therefore the voice seems to come from somewherebeneath the earth. And, because you cannot see these things to accountfor it, the variableness of sound torments you. Ah!--and the waking inthe morning to the same blackness as you have had all night! I haveexperienced it just once,--I began my darkness before dinner lastnight,--and I assure you, Deryck, I dread to-morrow morning. Think whatit must be to wake to that always, with no prospect of ever againseeing the sunlight! And then the meals--"

  "What! You keep it on?" The doctor's voice sounded rather strained.

  "Of course," said Jane. "And you cannot imagine the humiliation offollowing your food all round the plate, and then finding it on thetable-cloth; of being quite sure there was a last bit somewhere, andwhen you had given up the search and gone on to another course,discovering it, eventually, in your lap. I do not wonder my poor boywould not let me come to his meals. But after this I believe he will,and I shall know exactly how to help him and how to arrange so thatvery soon he will have no difficulty. Oh, Dicky, I had to do it! Therewas no other way."

  "Yes," said the doctor quietly, "you had to do it." And Jane in herblindness could not see the working of his face, as he added below hisbreath: "You being YOU, dear, there was no other way."

  "Ah, how glad I am you realise the necessity, Deryck! I had so fearedyou might think it useless or foolish. And it was now or never; becauseI trust--if he forgives me--this will be the only week-end I shall everhave to spend away from him. Boy, do you think he will forgive me?"

  It was fortunate Jane was blind: The doctor swallowed a word, then:"Hush, dear," he said. "You make me sigh for the duchess's parrot. AndI shall do no good here, if I lose patience with Dalmain. Now tell me;you really never remove that bandage?"

  "Only to wash my face," replied Jane, smiling. "I can trust myself notto peep for two minutes. And last night I found it made my head so hotthat I could not sleep; so I slipped it off for an hour or two, butwoke and put it on again before dawn."

  "And you mean to wear it until to-morrow morning?"

  Jane smiled rather wistfully. She knew what was involved in thatquestion.

  "Until to-morrow night, Boy," she answered gently.

  "But, Jeanette," exclaimed the doctor, in indignant protest; "surelyyou will see me before I go! My dear girl, would it not be carrying theexperiment unnecess
arily far?"

  "Ah, no," said Jane, leaning towards him with her pathetic bandagedeyes. "Don't you see, dear, you give me the chance of passing throughwhat will in time be one of his hardest experiences, when his dearestfriends will come and go, and be to him only voice and touch; theirfaces unseen and but dimly remembered? Deryck, just because thishearing and not seeing you IS so hard, I realise how it is enriching mein what I can share with him. He must not have to say: 'Ah, but you sawhim before he left.' I want to be able to say: 'He came and went,--mygreatest friend,--and I did not see him at all.'"

  The doctor walked over to the window and stood there, whistling softly.Jane knew he was fighting down his own vexation. She waited patiently.Presently the whistling stopped and she heard him laugh. Then he cameback and sat down near her.

  "You always were a THOROUGH old thing!" he said.

  "No half-measures would do. I suppose I must agree."

  Jane reached out for his hand. "Ah, Boy," she said, "now you will helpme. But I never before knew you so nearly selfish."

  "The 'other man' is always a problem," said the doctor. "We malebrutes, by nature, always want to be first with all our women; notmerely with the one, but with all those in whom we consider, sometimeswith egregious presumption, that we hold a right. You see iteverywhere,--fathers towards their daughters, brothers as regards theirsisters, friends in a friendship. The 'other man,' when he arrives, isalways a pill to swallow. It is only natural, I suppose; but it isfallen nature and therefore to be surmounted. Now let me go and foragefor your hat and coat, and take you out upon the moors. No? Why not? Ioften find things for Flower, so really I know likely places in whichto search. Oh, all right! I will send Margery. But don't be long. Andyou need not be afraid of Dalmain hearing us, for I saw him just nowwalking briskly up and down the terrace, with only an occasional touchof his cane against the parapet. How much you have alreadyaccomplished! We shall talk more freely out on the moor; and, as Imarch you along, we can find out tips which may be useful when the timecomes for you to lead the 'other man' about. Only do be careful how youcome downstairs with old Margery. Think if you fell upon her, Jane! Shedoes make such excellent coffee!"