Part 14 (2/2)
else. Sure, what is he but a young man yet?”
”That's true, Burke--that's true!” Clodagh exclaimed quickly. ”Won't you come in, Mr. Milbanke?” she added. ”You know how welcome you are.”
Once inside the hall, she turned to him quickly and confidingly.
”I can never forget that you've done this,” she said. ”It's a really, really generous thing. But all my mind is full of father. You can understand, can't you?”
Her agitation, her alarm, her evident helplessness in presence of a contingency never previously faced, all touched him deeply. His tone was low and gentle as he responded.
”I understand perfectly--perfectly,” he said. ”Poor Denis! Poor Denis!
How did the thing occur?”
”Oh, just an accident--just an accident. About six months ago he took a fancy for riding late at night. He used to ride for miles along the most dangerous paths of the cliff. I knew it wasn't safe; I said so over and over again. But you know father!” She gave a little hopeless shake of her head. ”On Monday night he saddled one of the young horses at about ten o'clock, and went out by himself. It came to twelve and he hadn't returned. Then we began to get uneasy, and at one o'clock we started to look for him. After a search all along the cliff, we found him wedged between two of the upper ledges of the rocks, terribly--terribly hurt.” She shuddered palpably at the recollection.
”We didn't know--we don't know even now--quite how it happened. But we think the horse must have lost his footing and fallen over the cliff, throwing father; for the poor thing was found dead on the s.h.i.+ngle next morning. 'Twas a miracle that father escaped with his life, but he's terribly injured.”
She paused again, as though the subject was too painful to be pursued.
Milbanke looked at her compa.s.sionately.
”Has he had proper medical advice?” he asked.
”Oh yes! Doctor Gallagher from Carrigmore has done everything, and we have a trained nurse from Waterford.”
”That's right. I must have a talk with the doctor. But how is Denis now? Will he know me, do you think?”
”Oh yes! Ever since the first night he has been quite conscious. He expects you. He's longing to see you.”
”Then may I go to him?”
Clodagh nodded; and, turning, led the way silently up the remembered staircase. On the landing, the recollection of their curious interview on his first night at Orristown recurred forcibly to Milbanke. He glanced at his guide to see if it had any place in her mind; but her thoughts were evidently full of other things. With a quick gesture that enjoined silence, she led him down the corridor, upon which rough fibre mats had been strewn to deaden sound.
With that peculiar sensation of awe that serious illness always engenders, he tip-toed after her, a sense of apprehensive depression growing upon him with every step. As they neared the end of the pa.s.sage, a door opened noiselessly, and two figures emerged from a darkened room. The taller of the two--a pale, emaciated woman, dressed in mourning--was unknown to him; but a glance told him that the latter was little Nance, grown to pretty, immature girlhood.
On catching sight of him, she drew back with a pa.s.sing touch of the old shyness; but, conquering it almost directly, she came forward and shook hands in silence. In the momentary greeting, he saw that her vivacious little face was red and marred by tears; but before he had time for further observation Clodagh touched his arm.
”My aunt, Mrs. a.s.shlin!” she whispered.
Milbanke bowed, and Mrs. a.s.shlin extended her hand.
”We meet on a sad occasion, Mr. Milbanke,” she murmured in a low, querulous voice. ”My poor brother-in-law was always such a rash man.
But with some people, you know, there is no such thing as remonstrating. Even this morning when Mr. Curry, our rector from Carrigmore, came to have a little talk with him, he was barely polite; and it was only yesterday that we dared to tell him that Doctor Gallagher insisted on having a nurse. Now, what can you do with a patient like that?”
Milbanke murmured something vaguely unintelligible; and Clodagh stirred impatiently.
”Did you give him the medicine, Aunt Fan?” she asked.
”I did; but with great difficulty. My brother-in-law has always been averse to medical aid,” she explained to Milbanke.
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