"Richard! my darling husband! Going? What is it takes you from me?"

But questioning no further, she fell on her knees, and cried piteously to him to stay--not to leave them. Then she dragged him to the little sleeper, and urged him to pray by his side, and he did, but rose abruptly from his prayer when he had muttered a few broken words--she praying on with tight-strung nerves, in the faith that what she said to the interceding Mother above would be stronger than human hands on him. Nor could he go while she knelt there.

And he wavered. He had not reckoned on her terrible suffering. She came to him, quiet. "I knew you would remain." And taking his hand, innocently fondling it: "Am I so changed from her he loved? You will not leave me, dear?" But dread returned, and the words quavered as she spoke them.

He was almost vanquished by the loveliness of her womanhood. She drew his hand to her heart, and strained it there under one breast.

"Come: lie on my heart," she murmured with a smile of holy sweetness.

He wavered more, and drooped to her, but summoning the powers of h.e.l.l, kissed her suddenly, cried the words of parting, and hurried to the door. It was over in an instant. She cried out his name, clinging to him wildly, and was adjured to be brave, for he would be dishonoured if he did not go. Then she was shaken off.

Mrs. Berry was aroused by an unusual prolonged wailing of the child, which showed that no one was comforting it, and failing to get any answer to her applications for admittance, she made bold to enter.

There she saw Lucy, the child in her lap, sitting on the floor senseless:--she had taken it from its sleep and tried to follow her husband with it as her strongest appeal to him, and had fainted.

"Oh my! oh my!" Mrs. Berry moaned, "and I just now thinkin' they was so happy!"

Warming and caressing the poor infant, she managed by degrees to revive Lucy, and heard what had brought her to that situation.

"Go to his father," said Mrs. Berry. "Ta-te-tiddle-te-heighty-O! Go, my love, and every horse in Raynham shall be out after 'm. This is what men brings us to! Heighty-oighty-iddlety-Ah! Or you take blessed baby, and I'll go."

The baronet himself knocked at the door. "What is this?" he said. "I heard a noise and a step descend."

"It's Mr. Richard have gone, Sir Austin! have gone from his wife and babe! Rum-te-um-te-iddledy--Oh, my goodness! what sorrow's come on us!" and Mrs. Berry wept, and sang to baby, and baby cried vehemently, and Lucy, sobbing, took him and danced him and sang to him with drawn lips and tears dropping over him. And if the Scientific Humanist to the day of his death forgets the sight of those two poor true women jigging on their wretched hearts to calm the child, he must have very little of the human in him.

There was no more sleep for Raynham that night.

CHAPTER XLV

LADY BLANDISH TO AUSTIN WENTWORTH

"His ordeal is over. I have just come from his room and seen him bear the worst that could be. Return at once--he has asked for you.

I can hardly write intelligibly, but I will tell you what we know.

"Two days after the dreadful night when he left us, his father heard from Ralph Morton. Richard had fought a duel in France with Lord Mountfalcon, and was lying wounded at a hamlet on the coast. His father started immediately with his poor wife, and I followed in company with his aunt and his child. The wound was not dangerous. He was shot in the side somewhere, but the ball injured no vital part.

We thought all would be well. Oh! how sick I am of theories, and Systems, and the pretensions of men! There was his son lying all but dead, and the man was still unconvinced of the folly he had been guilty of. I could hardly bear the sight of his composure. I shall hate the name of Science till the day I die. Give me nothing but commonplace unpretending people!

"They were at a wretched French cabaret, smelling vilely, where we still remain, and the people try as much as they can do to compensate for our discomforts by their kindness. The French poor people are very considerate where they see suffering. I will say that for them. The doctors had not allowed his poor Lucy to go near him. She sat outside his door, and none of us dared disturb her.

That was a sight for Science. His father and myself, and Mrs. Berry, were the only ones permitted to wait on him, and whenever we came out, there she sat, not speaking a word--for she had been told it would endanger his life--but she looked such awful eagerness. She had the sort of eye I fancy mad persons have. I was sure her reason was going. We did everything we could think of to comfort her. A bed was made up for her and her meals were brought to her there. Of course there was no getting her to eat. What do you suppose _his_ alarm was fixed on? He absolutely said to me--but I have not patience to repeat his words. He thought her to blame for not _commanding_ herself for the sake of her _maternal duties_. He had absolutely an idea of insisting that she should make an effort to suckle the child. I shall love that Mrs. Berry to the end of my days. I really believe she has _twice_ the sense of any of us--Science and all. She asked him plainly if he wished to poison the child, and then he gave way, but with a bad grace.

"Poor man! perhaps I am hard on him. I remember that you said Richard had done wrong. Yes; well, that may be. But his father eclipsed his wrong in a greater wrong--a crime, or quite as bad; for if he deceived himself in the belief that he was acting righteously in separating husband and wife, and exposing his son as he did, I can only say that there are some who are worse than people who deliberately commit _crimes_. No doubt Science will benefit by it.

They kill little animals for the sake of Science.

"We have with us Doctor Bairam, and a French physician from Dieppe, a very skilful man. It was he who told us where the real danger lay.

We thought all would be well. A week had pa.s.sed, and no fever supervened. We told Richard that his wife was coming to him, and he could bear to hear it. I went to her and began to circ.u.mlocute, thinking she listened--she had the same eager look. When I told her she might go in with me to see her dear husband, her features did not change. M. Despres, who held her pulse at the time, told me, in a whisper, it was cerebral fever--brain fever coming on. We have talked of her since. I noticed that though she did not seem to understand me, her bosom heaved, and she appeared to be trying to repress it, and choke something. I am sure now, from what I know of her character, that she--even in the approaches of delirium--was preventing herself from crying out. Her last hold of reason was a thought for Richard. It was against a creature like this that we plotted! I have the comfort of knowing that I did my share in helping to destroy her. Had she seen her husband a day or two before--but no! there was a new _System_ to interdict that! Or had she not so violently controlled her nature as she did, I believe she might have been saved.

"He said once of a man, that his conscience was a c.o.xcomb. Will you believe that when he saw his son's wife--poor victim! lying delirious, he could not even then see his error. You said he wished to take Providence out of G.o.d's hands. His mad self-deceit would not leave him. I am positive, that while he was standing over her, he was blaming her for not having considered the child. Indeed he made a remark to me that it was unfortunate--'disastrous,' I think he said--that the child should have to be fed by hand. I dare say it is. All I pray is that this young child may be saved from him. I cannot bear to see him look on it. He does not spare himself _bodily_ fatigue--but what is that? that is the vulgarest form of love. I know what you will say. You will say I have lost all charity, and I have. But I should not feel so, Austin, if I could be _quite sure_ that he is an altered man even now the blow has struck him. He is reserved and simple in his speech, and his grief is evident, but I have doubts. He heard her while she was senseless call him cruel and harsh, and cry that she had suffered, and I saw then his mouth contract as if he had been touched. Perhaps, when he thinks, his mind will be clearer, but what he has done cannot be undone. I do not imagine he will abuse women any more. The doctor called her a 'forte et belle jeune femme:' and _he_ said she was as n.o.ble a soul as ever G.o.d moulded clay upon. A n.o.ble soul 'forte et belle!' She lies upstairs. If he can look on her and not see his _sin_, I almost fear G.o.d will never enlighten him.

"She died five days after she had been removed. The shock had utterly deranged her. I was with her. She died very quietly, breathing her last breath without pain--asking for no one--a death I should like to die.

"Her cries at one time were dreadfully loud. She screamed that she was 'drowning in fire,' and that her husband would not come to her to save her. We deadened the sound as much as we could, but it was impossible to prevent Richard from hearing. He knew her voice, and it produced an effect like fever on him. Whenever she called he answered. You could not hear them without weeping. Mrs. Berry sat with her, and I sat with him, and his father moved from one to the other.

"But the trial for us came when she was gone. How to communicate it to Richard--or whether to do so at all! His father consulted with us. We were quite decided that it would be madness to breathe it while he was in that state. I can admit now--as things have turned out--we were wrong. His father left us--I believe he spent the time in prayer--and then leaning on me, he went to Richard, and said in so many words, that his Lucy was no more. I thought it must kill him. He listened, and smiled. I never saw a smile so sweet and so sad. He said he had seen her die, as if he had pa.s.sed through his suffering a long time ago. He shut his eyes. I could see by the motion of his eyeb.a.l.l.s up that he was straining his sight to some inner heaven.--I cannot go on.

"I think Richard is safe. Had we postponed the tidings, till he came to his clear senses, it must have killed him. His father was right for once, then. But if he has saved his son's body, he has given the death-blow to his heart. Richard will never be what he promised.

"A letter found on his clothes tells us the origin of the quarrel. I have had an interview with Lord M. this morning. I cannot say I think him exactly to blame: Richard forced him to fight. At least I do not select him the foremost for blame. He was deeply and sincerely affected by the calamity he has caused. Alas! he was only an instrument. Your poor aunt is utterly prostrate and talks strange things of her daughter's death. She is only happy in _drudging_. Dr.

Bairam says we must under any circ.u.mstances keep her employed.

Whilst she is doing something, she can chat freely, but the moment her hands are not occupied she gives me an idea that she is going into a fit.

"We expect the dear child's uncle to-day. Mr. Thompson is here. I have taken him upstairs to look at her. That poor young man has a true heart.

"Come at once. You will not be in time to see her. She will lie at Raynham. If you could you would see an angel. _He_ sits by her side for hours. I can give you no description of her beauty.

"You will not delay, I know, dear Austin, and I want you, for your presence will make me more charitable than I find it possible to be.

Have you noticed the expression in the eyes of blind men? That is just how Richard looks, as he lies there silent in his bed--striving to image her on his brain."

The Modern Student's Library

NOVELS

AUSTEN: Pride and Prejudice With an introduction by WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS

BUNYAN: The Pilgrim's Progress With an introduction by SAMUEL MCCHORD CROTHERS

COOPER: The Spy With an introduction by TREMAINE MCDOWELL, a.s.sociate Professor of English, University of Minnesota

ELIOT: Adam Bede With an introduction by LAURA JOHNSON WYLIE, formerly Professor of English, Va.s.sar College

FIELDING: The Adventures of Joseph Andrews With an introduction by BRUCE MCCULLOUGH, a.s.sociate Professor of English, New York University

GALSWORTHY: The Patrician With an introduction by BLISS PERRY, Professor of English Literature, Harvard University

HARDY: The Return of the Native With an introduction by J. W. CUNLIFFE, Professor of English, Columbia University

HAWTHORNE: The Scarlet Letter With an introduction by STUART P. SHERMAN, late Literary Editor of the New York _Herald Tribune_

MEREDITH: Evan Harrington With an introduction by GEORGE F. REYNOLDS, Professor of English Literature, University of Colorado

MEREDITH: The Ordeal of Richard Feverel With an introduction by FRANK W. CHANDLER, Professor of English and Comparative Literature, and Dean of the College of Liberal Arts, University of Cincinnati

SCOTT: The Heart of Midlothian With an introduction by WILLIAM P. TRENT, Professor of English Literature, Columbia University

STEVENSON: The Master of Ballantrae With an introduction by H. S. CANBY, a.s.sistant Editor of the _Yale Review_ and Editor of the _Sat.u.r.day Review_