The Rosary

by Florence L. Barclay

  CHAPTER XXV

  THE DOCTOR'S DIAGNOSIS

  "So you expressed no opinion? explained nothing? let him go onbelieving that? Oh, Dicky! And you might have said so much!"

  In the quiet of the Scotch Sabbath morning, Jane and the doctor hadclimbed the winding path from the end of the terrace, which zigzaggedup to a clearing amongst the pines. Two fallen trees at a shortdistance from each other provided convenient seats in full sunshine,facing a glorious view,--down into the glen, across the valley, andaway to the purple hills beyond. The doctor had guided Jane to thesunnier of the two trunks, and seated himself beside her. Then he hadquietly recounted practically the whole of the conversation of theprevious evening.

  "I expressed no opinion. I explained nothing. I let him continue tobelieve what he believes; because it is the only way to keep you on thepinnacle where he has placed you. Let any other reason for your conductthan an almost infantine ignorance of men and things be suggested andaccepted, and down you will come, my poor Jane, and great will be thefall. Mine shall not be the hand thus to hurl you headlong. As you say,I might have said so much, but I might also have lived to regret it."

  "I should fall into his arms," said Jane recklessly, "and I wouldsooner be there than on a pinnacle."

  "Excuse me, my good girl," replied the doctor. "It is more likely youwould fall into the first express going south. In fact, I am notcertain you would wait for an express. I can almost see the HonourableJane quitting yonder little railway station, seated in an emptycoal-truck. No! Don't start up and attempt to stride about among thepine needles," continued the doctor, pulling Jane down beside himagain. "You will only trip over a fir cone and go headlong into thevalley. It is no use forestalling the inevitable fall."

  "Oh, Dicky," sighed Jane, putting her hand through his arm; and leaningher bandaged eyes against the rough tweed of his shoulder; "I don'tknow what has come to you to-day. You are not kind to me. You haveharrowed my poor soul by repeating all Garth said last night; and,thanks to that terribly good memory of yours, you have reproduced thetones of his voice in every inflection. And then, instead of comfortingme, you leave me entirely in the wrong, and completely in the lurch."

  "In the wrong--yes," said Deryck; "in the lurch--no. I did not say Iwould do nothing to-day. I only said I could do nothing last night. Youcannot take up a wounded thing and turn it about and analyse it. Whenwe bade each other good-night, I told him I would think the matter overand give him my opinion to-day. I will tell you what has happened to meif you like. I have looked into the inmost recesses of a very rare andbeautiful nature, and I have seen what havoc a woman can work in thelife of the man who loves her. I can assure you, last night was nopastime. I woke this morning feeling as if I had, metaphorically, beenbeaten black and blue."

  "Then what do you suppose _I_ feel?" inquired Jane pathetically.

  "You still feel yourself in the right--partly," replied Deryck. "And solong as you think you have a particle of justification and cling to it,your case is hopeless. It will have to be: 'I confess. Can youforgive?'"

  "But I acted for the best," said Jane. "I thought of him before Ithought of myself. It would have been far easier to have accepted thehappiness of the moment, and chanced the future."

  "That is not honest, Jeanette. You thought of yourself first. You darednot face the possibility of the pain to you if his love cooled or hisadmiration waned. When one comes to think of it, I believe every formof human love--a mother's only excepted--is primarily selfish. The bestchance for Dalmain is that his helpless blindness may awaken the motherlove in you. Then self will go to the wall."

  "Ah me!" sighed Jane. "I am lost and weary and perplexed in thisbewildering darkness. Nothing seems clear; nothing seems right. If Icould see your kind eyes, Boy, your hard voice would hurt less."

  "Well, take off the bandage and look," said the doctor.

  "I will not!" cried Jane furiously. "Have I gone through all this tofail at the last?"

  "My dear girl, this self-imposed darkness is getting on your nerves.Take care it does not do more harm than good. Strong remedies--"

  "Hush!" whispered Jane. "I hear footsteps."

  "You can always hear footsteps in a wood if you hearken for them," saidthe doctor; but he spoke low, and then sat quiet, listening.

  "I hear Garth's step," whispered Jane. "Oh, Dicky, go to the edge andlook over. You can see the windings of the path below."

  The doctor stepped forward quietly and looked down upon the way theyhad ascended. Then he came back to Jane.

  "Yes," he said. "Fortune favours us. Dalmain is coming up the path withSimpson. He will be here in two minutes."

  "Fortune favours us? My dear Dicky! Of all mis-chances!" Jane's handflew to her bandage, but the doctor stayed her just in time.

  "Not at all," he said. "And do not fail at the last in your experiment.I ought to be able to keep you two blind people apart. Trust me, andkeep dark--I mean, sit still. And can you not understand why I saidfortune favours us? Dalmain is coming for my opinion on the case. Youshall hear it together. It will be a saving of time for me, and mostenlightening for you to mark how he takes it. Now keep quiet. I promisehe shall not sit on your lap. But if you make a sound, I shall have tosay you are a bunny or a squirrel, and throw fir cones at you."

  The doctor rose and sauntered round the bend of the path.

  Jane sat on in darkness.

  "Hullo, Dalmain," she heard Deryck say. "Found your way up here? Anideal spot. Shall we dispense with Simpson? Take my arm."

  "Yes," replied Garth. "I was told you were up here, Brand, and followedyou."

  They came round the bend together, and out into the clearing.

  "Are you alone?" asked Garth standing still. "I thought I heard voices."

  "You did," replied the doctor. "I was talking to a young woman."

  "What sort of young woman?" asked Garth.

  "A buxom young person," replied the doctor, "with a decidedly touchytemper."

  "Do you know her name?"

  "Jane," said the doctor recklessly.

  "Not 'Jane,'" said Garth quickly,--"Jean. I know her,--my gardener'seldest daughter. Rather weighed down by family cares, poor girl."

  "I saw she was weighed down," said the doctor. "I did not know it wasby family cares. Let us sit on this trunk. Can you call up the view tomind?"

  "Yes," replied Garth; "I know it so well. But it terrifies me to findhow my mental pictures are fading; all but one."

  "And that is--?" asked the doctor.

  "The face of the One Woman," said Garth in his blindness.

  "Ah, my dear fellow," said the doctor, "I have not forgotten my promiseto give you this morning my opinion on your story. I have been thinkingit over carefully, and have arrived at several conclusions. Shall wesit on this fallen tree? Won't you smoke? One can talk better under theinfluence of the fragrant weed."

  Garth took out his cigarette case, chose a cigarette, lighted it withcare, and flung the flaming match straight on to Jane's clasped hands.

  Before the doctor could spring up, Jane had smilingly flicked it off.

  "What nerve!" thought Deryck, with admiration. "Ninety-nine women outof a hundred would have said 'Ah!' and given away the show. Really, shedeserves to win."

  Suddenly Garth stood up. "I think we shall do better on the other log,"he said unexpectedly. "It is always in fuller sunshine." And he movedtowards Jane.

  With a bound the doctor sprang in front of him, seized Jane with onestrong hand and drew her behind him; then guided Garth to the very spotwhere she had been sitting.

  "How accurately you judge distance," he remarked, backing with Janetowards the further trunk. Then he seated himself beside Garth in thesunshine. "Now for our talk," said the doctor, and he said it ratherbreathlessly.

  "Are you sure we are alone?" asked Garth. "I seem conscious of anotherpresence."

  "My dear fellow," said the doctor, "is one ever alone in a wood?Countless little presences surround us. Bright eyes peep down fr
om thebranches; furry tails flick in and out of holes; things unseen move inthe dead leaves at our feet. If you seek solitude, shun the woods."

  "Yes," replied Garth, "I know, and I love listening to them. I meant ahuman presence. Brand, I am often so tried by the sense of an unseenhuman presence near me. Do you know, I could have sworn the other daythat she--the One Woman--came silently, looked upon me in my blindness,pitied me, as her great tender heart would do, and silently departed."

  "When was that?" asked the doctor.

  "A few days ago. Dr. Rob had been telling us how he came across herin--Ah! I must not say where. Then he and Miss Gray left me alone, andin the lonely darkness and silence I felt her eyes upon me."

  "Dear boy," said the doctor, "you must not encourage this dread ofunseen presences. Remember, those who care for us very truly and deeplycan often make us conscious of their mental nearness, even when faraway, especially if they know we are in trouble and needing them. Youmust not be surprised if you are often conscious of the nearness of theOne Woman, for I believe--and I do not say it lightly, Dalmain--Ibelieve her whole heart and love and life are yours."

  "Good Lord!" exclaimed Garth, and springing up, strode forwardaimlessly.

  The doctor caught him by the arm. In another moment he would havefallen over Jane's feet.

  "Sit down, man," said the doctor, "and listen to me. You gain nothingby dashing about in the dark in that way. I am going to prove my words.But you must give me your calm attention. Now listen. We are confrontedin this case by a psychological problem, and one which very likely hasnot occurred to you. I want you for a moment to picture the One Man andthe One Woman facing each other in the Garden of Eden, or in themoonlight--wherever it was--if you like better. Now will you realisethis? The effect upon a man of falling in love is to create in him acomplete unconsciousness of self. On the other hand, the effect upon awoman of being loved and sought, and of responding to that love andseeking, is an accession of intense self-consciousness. He, longing towin and take, thinks of her only. She, called upon to yield and give,has her mind turned at once upon herself. Can she meet his need? Is sheall he thinks her? Will she be able to content him completely, not onlynow but in the long vista of years to come? The more natural andunconscious of self she had been before, the harder she would be hit bythis sudden, overwhelming attack of self-consciousness."

  The doctor glanced at Jane on the log six yards away. She had liftedher clasped hands and was nodding towards him, her face radiant withrelief and thankfulness.

  He felt he was on the right tack. But the blind face beside him cloudedheavily, and the cloud deepened as he proceeded.

  "You see, my dear chap, I gathered from yourself she was not of thetype of feminine loveliness you were known to admire. Might she nothave feared that her appearance would, after a while, have failed tocontent you?"

  "No," replied Garth with absolutely finality of tone. "Such asuggestion is unworthy. Besides, had the idea by any possibilityentered her mind, she would only have had to question me on the point.My decision would have been final; my answer would have fully reassuredher."

  "Love is blind," quoted the doctor quietly.

  "They lie who say so," cried Garth violently. "Love is so far-seeingthat it sees beneath the surface and delights in beauties unseen byother eyes."

  "Then you do not accept my theory?" asked the doctor.

  "Not as an explanation of my own trouble," answered Garth; "because Iknow the greatness of her nature would have lifted her far above such aconsideration. But I do indeed agree as to the complete oblivion toself of the man in love. How else could we ever venture to suggest to awoman that she should marry us? Ah, Brand, when one thinks of it, theintrusion into her privacy; the asking the right to touch, even herhand, at will; it could not be done unless the love of her and thethought of her had swept away all thoughts of self. Looking back uponthat time I remember how completely it was so with me. And when shesaid to me in the church: 'How old are you?'--ah, I did not tell youthat last night--the revulsion of feeling brought about by being turnedat that moment in upon myself was so great, that my joy seemed toshrivel and die in horror at my own unworthiness."

  Silence in the wood. The doctor felt he was playing a losing game. Hedared not look at the silent figure opposite. At last he spoke.

  "Dalmain, there are two possible solutions to your problem. Do youthink it was a case of Eve holding back in virginal shyness, expectingAdam to pursue?"

  "Ah, no," said Garth emphatically. "We had gone far beyond all that.Nor could you suggest it, did you know her. She is too honest, tooabsolutely straight and true, to have deceived me. Besides, had it beenso, in all these lonely years, when she found I made no sign, she wouldhave sent me word of what she really meant."

  "Should you have gone to her then?" asked the doctor.

  "Yes," said Garth slowly. "I should have gone and I should haveforgiven--because she is my own. But it could never have been the same.It would have been unworthy of us both."

  "Well," continued the doctor, "the other solution remains. You haveadmitted that the One Woman came somewhat short of the conventionalstandard of beauty. Your love of loveliness was so well known. Do younot think, during the long hours of that night,--remember how new itwas to her to be so worshipped and wanted,--do you not think hercourage failed her? She feared she might come short of what eventuallyyou would need in the face and figure always opposite you at yourtable; and, despite her own great love and yours, she thought it wisestto avoid future disillusion by rejecting present joy. Her very love foryou would have armed her to this decision."

  The silent figure opposite nodded, and waited with clasped hands.Deryck was pleading her cause better than she could have pleaded itherself.

  Silence in the woods. All nature seemed to hush and listen for theanswer.

  Then:--"No," said Garth's young voice unhesitatingly. "In that case shewould have told me her fear, and I should have reassured herimmediately. Your suggestion is unworthy of my beloved."

  The wind sighed in the trees. A cloud passed before the sun. The twowho sat in darkness, shivered and were silent.

  Then the doctor spoke. "My dear boy," he said, and a deep tendernesswas in his voice: "I must maintain my unalterable belief that to theOne Woman you are still the One Man. In your blindness her rightfulplace is by your side. Perhaps even now she is yearning to be here.Will you tell me her name, and give me leave to seek her out, hear fromherself her version of the story; and, if it be as I think, bring herto you, to prove, in your affliction, her love and tenderness?"

  "Never!" said Garth. "Never, while life shall last! Can you not seethat if when I had sight, and fame, and all heart could desire, I couldnot win her love, what she might feel for me now, in my helplessblindness, could be but pity? And pity from her I could never accept.If I was 'a mere boy' three years ago, I am 'a mere blind man' now, anobject for kind commiseration. If indeed you are right, and shemistrusted my love and my fidelity, it is now out of my power foreverto prove her wrong and to prove myself faithful. But I will not allowthe vision of my beloved to be dimmed by these suggestions. For hercompletion, she needed so much more than I could give. She refused mebecause I was not fully worthy. I prefer it should be so. Let us leaveit at that."

  "It leaves you to loneliness," said the doctor sadly.

  "I prefer loneliness," replied Garth's young voice, "to disillusion.Hark! I hear the first gong, Brand. Margery will be grieved if we keepher Sunday dishes waiting."

  He stood up and turned his sightless face towards the view.

  "Ah, how well I know it," he said. "When Miss Gray and I sit up here,she tells me all she sees, and I tell her what she does not see, butwhat I know is there. She is keen on art, and on most of the things Icare about. I must ask for an arm, Brand, though the path is wide andgood. I cannot risk a tumble. I have come one or two awful croppers,and I promised Miss Gray--The path is wide. Yes, we can walk twoabreast, three abreast if necessary. It is well we had this good pathmade. It u
sed to be a steep scramble."

  "Three abreast," said the doctor. "So we could--if necessary." Hestepped back and raised Jane from her seat, drawing her cold handthrough his left arm. "Now, my dear fellow, my right arm will suit youbest; then you can keep your stick in your right hand."

  And thus they started down through the wood, on that lovely Sabbathmorn of early summer; and the doctor walked erect between those twosevered hearts, uniting, and yet dividing them.

  Just once Garth paused and listened. "I seem to hear another footstep,"he said, "besides yours and mine."

  "The wood is full of footsteps," said the doctor, "just as the heart isfull of echoes. If you stand still and listen you can hear what youwill in either."

  "Then let us not stand still," said Garth, "for in old days, if I waslate for lunch, Margery used to spank me."