Part 28 (1/2)

”Freshly roasted--freshly ground--water--freshly-boiled--” said old Margery, reaching the topmost stair somewhat breathless; then turning, bustled along a rather dark pa.s.sage, thickly carpeted, and hung with old armour and pictures.

”Where are we going, Mistress Margery?” asked the doctor, adapting his stride 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 earthenware jug, pour your boiling water straight upon it, stir it with a wooden spoon, set it on the hob ten minutes to settle; the grounds will all go to the bottom, though you might not think it; and you pour it out--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 pa.s.sage, knocked lightly; 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 dim light. ”I will not forget the wooden spoon, Mistress Margery,” he said, gravely. And old Margery, turning the handle whispered mysteriously into the half-opened doorway: ”It will be Sir Deryck, Miss Gray,” and ushered the doctor into a cosy little sitting-room.

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

”Oh, d.i.c.ky!” she said, and a great thankfulness was in her voice, ”is it you? Oh, come in, Boy, and shut the door. Are we alone? Come round here quick and shake hands, or I shall be plunging about trying to find you.”

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

”Jeanette?” he said. ”Jeanette!” And then surprise and emotion silenced him.

Jane's eyes were securely bandaged. A black silk scarf, folded in four thicknesses, 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 this week-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 know exactly what it means, in all the small, trying details. I never had much imagination, and I have exhausted what little I had. And he never complains, or explains how things come hardest. So the only way to find out is to have forty-eight hours of it one's self. Old Margery and Simpson quite enter into it, and are helping me splendidly. Simpson keeps the coast clear if we want to come down or go out; because with two blind people about, it would be a complication if they ran into one another. Margery helps me with all the things in which I am helpless; and, oh d.i.c.ky, you would never believe how many they are! And the awful, awful dark--a black curtain always in front of you, sometimes seeming hard and firm, like a wall of coal, within an inch of your face; sometimes sinking away into soft depths of blackness--miles and miles of distant, silent, horrible darkness; until you feel you must fall forward into it and be submerged and overwhelmed. And out of that darkness come voices. And if they speak loudly, they hit you like tapping hammers; and if they murmur indistinctly, they madden you because you can't SEE what is causing it. You can't see that they are holding pins in their mouths, and that therefore they are mumbling; or that they are half under the bed, trying to get out something which has rolled there, and therefore the voice seems to come from somewhere beneath the earth. And, because you cannot see these things to account for it, the variableness of sound torments you. Ah!--and the waking in the morning to the same blackness as you have had all night! I have experienced it just once,--I began my darkness before dinner last night,--and I a.s.sure you, Deryck, I dread to-morrow morning. Think what it must be to wake to that always, with no prospect of ever again seeing 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 of following your food all round the plate, and then finding it on the table-cloth; of being quite sure there was a last bit somewhere, and when you had given up the search and gone on to another course, discovering it, eventually, in your lap. I do not wonder my poor boy would 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 that very soon he will have no difficulty. Oh, d.i.c.ky, I had to do it! There was no other way.”

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

”Ah, how glad I am you realise the necessity, Deryck! I had so feared you might think it useless or foolish. And it was now or never; because I trust--if he forgives me--this will be the only week-end I shall ever have 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 d.u.c.h.ess's parrot. And I 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 not to peep for two minutes. And last night I found it made my head so hot that I could not sleep; so I slipped it off for an hour or two, but woke 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 that question.

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

”But, Jeanette,” exclaimed the doctor, in indignant protest; ”surely you will see me before I go! My dear girl, would it not be carrying the experiment unnecessarily far?”