Part 31 (1/2)

He glanced at her as she said this, and caught a closer glimpse of her face. Some faint mystical light in the sky illumined the outlines of her features, and showed him a calm and n.o.ble profile, such as may be found in early Greek sculpture, and which silently expresses the lines:

”Beauty is truth, truth beauty,--that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know!”

He moved on with a quicker step, touched by a keen sense of expectation.

Ill as he knew himself to be, he was eager to reach this woman's dwelling and to see her more closely. A soft laugh of pleasure broke from her lips as he tried to accelerate his pace.

”Oh, we're getting quite strong and bold now, aren't we!” she exclaimed, gaily--”But take care not to go too fast! There's a rough bit of bog and boulder coming.”

This was true. They had arrived at the upper edge of a bank overlooking a hill stream which was pouring noisily down in a flood made turgid by the rain, and the ”rough bit of bog and boulder” was a sort of natural bridge across the torrent, formed by heaps of earth and rock, out of which ma.s.ses of wet fern and plumy meadow-sweet sprang in tall tufts and garlands, which though beautiful to the eyes in day-time, were apt to entangle the feet in walking, especially when there was only the uncertain glimmer of the stars by which to grope one's way. Helmsley's age and over-wrought condition made his movements nervous and faltering at this point, and nothing could exceed the firm care and delicate solicitude with which his guide helped him over this last difficulty of the road. She was indeed strong, as she had said,--she seemed capable of lifting him bodily, if need were--yet she was not a woman of large or robust frame. On the contrary, she appeared slightly built, and carried herself with that careless grace which betokens perfect form. Once safely across the bridge and on the other side of the coombe, she pointed to a tiny lattice window with a light behind it which gleamed out through the surrounding foliage like a glow-worm in the darkness.

”Here we are at home,” she said,--”Just along this path--it's quite easy!--now under this tree--it's a big chestnut,--you'll love it!--now here's the garden gate--wait till I lift the latch--that's right!--the garden's quite small you see,--it goes straight up to the cottage--and here's the door! Come in!”

As in a dream, Helmsley was dimly conscious of the swis.h.i.+ng rustle of wet leaves, and the fragrance of mignonette and roses mingling with the salty scent of the sea,--then he found himself in a small, low, oak-raftered kitchen, with a wide old-fas.h.i.+oned hearth and ingle-nook, warm with the glow of a sparkling fire. A quaintly carved comfortably cus.h.i.+oned armchair was set in the corner, and to this his guide conducted him, and gently made him sit down.

”Now give me the doggie!” she said, taking that little personage from his arms--”He'll be glad of his supper and a warm bed, poor little soul!

And so will you!”

With a kindly caress she set Charlie down in front of the hearth, and proceeded to shut the cottage door, which had been left open as they entered,--and locking it, dropped an iron bar across it for the night.

Then she threw off her cloak, and hung it up on a nail in the wall, and bending over a lamp which was burning low on the table, turned up its wick a little higher. Helmsley watched her in a kind of stupefied wonderment. As the lamplight flashed up on her features, he saw that she was not a girl, but a woman who seemed to have thought and suffered. Her face was pale, and the lines of her mouth were serious, though very sweet. He could hardly judge whether she had beauty or not, because he saw her at a disadvantage. He was too ill to appreciate details, and he could only gaze at her in the dim and troubled weariness of an old and helpless man, who for the time being was dependent on any kindly aid that might be offered to him. Once or twice the vague idea crossed his mind that he would tell her who he was, and a.s.sure her that he had plenty of money about him to reward her for her care and pains,--but he could not bring himself to the point of this confession. The surprise and sweetness of being received thus unquestioningly under the shelter of her roof as merely the poor way-worn tramp he seemed to be, were too great for him to relinquish. She, meanwhile, having trimmed the lamp, hurried into a neighboring room, and came in again with a bundle of woollen garments, and a thick flannel dressing gown on her arm.

”This was my father's,” she said, as she brought it to him--”It's soft and cosy. Get off your wet clothes and slip into it, while I go and make your bed ready.”

She spread the dressing gown before the fire to warm it, and was about to turn away again, when Helmsley laid a detaining hand on her arm.

”Wait--wait!” he said--”Do you know what you are doing?”

She laughed.

”Well, now that _is_ a question! Do I seem crazy?”

”Almost you do--to me!” And stirred into a sudden flicker of animation, he held her fast as he spoke--”Do you live alone here?”

”Yes,--quite alone.”

”Then don't you see how foolish you are? You are taking into your house a mere tramp,--a beggar who is more likely to die than live! Do you realise how dangerous this is for you? I may be an escaped convict,--a thief--even a murderer! You cannot tell!”

She smiled and nodded at him as a nurse might nod and smile at a fanciful or querulous patient.

”I can't tell, certainly, and don't want to know!” she replied--”I go by what I see.”

”And what do you see?”

She patted his thin cold hand kindly.

”I see a very old man--older than my own dear father was when he died--and I know he is too old and feeble to be out at night in the wet and stormy weather. I know that he is ill and weak, and suffering from exhaustion, and that he must rest and be well nourished for a few days till he gets strong again. And I am going to take care of him,”--here she gave a consoling little pressure to the hand she held. ”I am indeed! And he must do as he is told, and take off his wet clothes and get ready for bed!”

Something in Helmsley's throat tightened like the contraction of a rising sob.

”You will risk all this trouble,”--he faltered--”for a stranger--who--who--cannot repay you--?----”