Part 49 (1/2)
”Uncle, dear,” said she presently, ”when do we go to Herne Bay?”
Now, Dr. Philip had given that up. He had got the servants at Kent Villa on his side, and he felt safer here than in any strange place: so he said, ”I don't know: that all depends. There is plenty of time.”
”No, uncle,” said Rosa gravely. ”I wish to leave this house. I can hardly breathe in it.”
”What! your native air?”
”Mystery is not my native air; and this house is full of mystery. Voices whisper at my door, and the people don't come in. The maids cast strange looks at me, and hurry away. I scolded that pert girl Jane, and she answered me as meek as Moses. I catch you looking at me, with love, and something else. What is that something--? It is Pity: that is what it is. Do you think, because I am called a simpleton, that I have no eyes, nor ears, nor sense? What is this secret which you are all hiding from one person, and that is me? Ah! Christopher has not written these five weeks. Tell me the truth, for I will know it,” and she started up in wild excitement.
Then Dr. Philip saw the hour was come.
He said, ”My poor girl, you have read us right. I am anxious about Christopher, and all the servants know it.”
”Anxious, and not tell ME; his wife; the woman whose life is bound up in his.”
”Was it for us to r.e.t.a.r.d your convalescence, and set you fretting, and perhaps destroy your child? Rosa, my darling, think what a treasure Heaven has sent you, to love and care for.”
”Yes,” said she, trembling, ”Heaven has been good to me; I hope Heaven will always be as good to me. I don't deserve it; but then I tell G.o.d so. I am very grateful, and very penitent. I never forget that, if I had been a good wife, my husband--five weeks is a long time. Why do you tremble so? Why are you so pale--a strong man like you? CALAMITY!
CALAMITY!”
Dr. Philip hung his head.
She looked at him, started wildly up, then sank back into her chair. So the stricken deer leaps, then falls. Yet even now she put on a deceitful calm, and said, ”Tell me the truth. I have a right to know.”
He stammered out, ”There is a report of an accident at sea.”
She kept silence.
”Of a pa.s.senger drowned--out of that s.h.i.+p. This, coupled with his silence, fills our hearts with fear.”
”It is worse--you are breaking it to me--you have gone too far to stop.
One word: is he alive? Oh, say he is alive!”
Philip rang the bell hard, and said in a troubled voice, ”Rosa, think of your child.”
”Not when my husband--Is he alive or dead?”
”It is hard to say, with such a terrible report about, and no letters,”
faltered the old man, his courage failing him.
”What are you afraid of? Do you think I can't die, and go to him? Alive, or dead?” and she stood before him, raging and quivering in every limb.
The nurse came in.
”Fetch her child,” he cried; ”G.o.d have mercy on her.”
”Ah, then he is dead,” said she, with stony calmness. ”I drove him to sea, and he is dead.”