Part 25 (1/2)

”And the writing?” asked Garth, mechanically and very quietly.

”The handwriting is rather bold and very clear, with no twirls or flourishes. It is written with a broad nib.”

”Will you kindly open it, nurse, and tell me the signature before reading the rest of the letter.”

Nurse Rosemary fought with her throat, which threatened to close altogether and stifle her voice. She opened the letter, turned to the last page, and found the signature.

”It is signed 'Jane Champion,' Mr. Dalmain,” said Nurse Rosemary.

”Read it, please,” said Garth quietly. And Nurse Rosemary began.

Dear Dal: What CAN I write? If I were with you, there would be so much I could say; but writing is so difficult, so impossible.

I know it is harder for you than it would have been for any of us; but you will be braver over it than we should have been, and you will come through splendidly, and go on thinking life beautiful, and making it seem so to other people. _I_ never thought it so until that summer at Overdene and Shenstone when you taught me the perception of beauty.

Since then, in every sunset and sunrise, in the blue-green of the Atlantic, the purple of the mountains, the spray of Niagara, the cherry blossom of j.a.pan, the golden deserts of Egypt, I have thought of you, and understood them better, because of you. Oh, Dal! I should like to come and tell you all about them, and let you see them through my eyes; and then you would widen out my narrow understanding of them, and show them again to me in greater loveliness.

I hear you receive no visitors; but cannot you make just one exception, and let me come?

I was at the Great Pyramid when I heard. I was sitting on the piazza after dinner. The moonlight called up memories. I had just made up my mind to give up the Nile, and to come straight home, and write asking you to come and see me; when General Loraine turned up, with an English paper and a letter from Myra, and--I heard. Would you have come, Garth?

And now, my friend, as you cannot come to me, may I come to you? If you just say: ”COME,” I will come from any part of the world where I may chance to be when the message reaches me. Never mind this Egyptian address. I shall not be there when you are hearing this. Direct to me at my aunt's town house. All my letters go there, and are forwarded unopened.

LET ME COME. And oh, do believe that I know something of how hard it is for you. But G.o.d can ”enable.”

Believe me to be,

Yours, more than I can write,

Jane Champion.

Garth removed the hand which had been s.h.i.+elding his face.

”If you are not tired, Miss Gray, after reading so many letters, I should like to dictate my answer to that one immediately, while it is fresh in my mind. Have you paper there? Thank you. May we begin?-- Dear Miss Champion ... I am deeply touched by your kind letter of sympathy ... It was especially good of you to write to me from so far away amid so much which might well have diverted your attention from friends at home.”

A long pause. Nurse Rosemary Gray waited, pen in hand, and hoped the beating of her heart was only in her own ears, and not audible across the small table.

”I am glad you did not give up the Nile trip but--”

An early bee hummed in from the hyacinths and buzzed against the pane.

Otherwise the room was very still.

--”but of course, if you had sent for me I should have come.”

The bee fought the window angrily, up and down, up and down, for several minutes; then found the open gla.s.s and whirled out into the suns.h.i.+ne, joyfully.

Absolute silence in the room, until Garth's quiet voice broke it as he went on dictating.

”It is more than kind of you to suggest coming to see me, but--”