Part 65 (1/2)
”I want ye--” the old man began, and then burst into violent sobs; and the watch dangled dangerously.
”Come now!” Edwin tried to soothe him, forcing himself to be kindly.
”What is it? I tell you I've wound it up all right. And it's correct time to a tick.” He consulted his own silver watch.
With a tremendous effort, Darius mastered his sobs, and began once more, ”I want ye--”
He tried several times, but his emotion overcame him each time before he could force the message out. It was always too quick for him. Silent, he could control it, but he could not simultaneously control it and speak.
”Never mind,” said Edwin. ”We'll see about that tomorrow.” And he wondered what bizarre project affecting the watch had entered his father's mind. Perhaps he wanted it set a quarter of an hour fast.
Darius dropped the watch on the eider-down, and sighed in despair, and fell back on the pillow and shut his eyes. Edwin restored the watch to the night-table.
Later, he crept into the dim room. Darius was snoring under the twilight of the gas. Like an unhappy child, he had found refuge in sleep from the enormous, infantile problems of his existence. And it was so pathetic, so distressing, that Edwin, as he gazed at that beard and those gold teeth, could have sobbed too.
VOLUME THREE, CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
THE WATCH.
When Edwin the next morning, rather earlier than usual on Sundays, came forth from his bedroom to go into the bathroom, he was startled by a voice from his father's bedroom calling him. It was Maggie's. She had heard him open his door, and she joined him on the landing.
”I was waiting for you to be getting up,” she said in a quiet tone. ”I don't think father's so well, and I was wondering whether I hadn't better send Jane down for the doctor. It's not certain he'll call to-day if he isn't specially fetched.”
”Why?” said Edwin. ”What's up?”
”Oh, nothing,” Maggie answered. ”Nothing particular, but you didn't hear him ringing in the night?”
”Ringing? No! What time?”
”About one o'clock. Jane heard the bell, and she woke me. So I got up to him. He said he couldn't do with being alone.”
”What did you do?”
”I made him something hot and stayed with him.”
”What? All night?”
”Yes,” said Maggie.
”But why didn't you call me?”
”What was the good?”
”You ought to have called me,” he said with curt displeasure, not really against Maggie, but against himself for having heard naught of all these happenings. Maggie had no appearance of having pa.s.sed the night by her father's bedside.
”Oh,” she said lightly, ”I dozed a bit now and then. And as soon as the girl was up I got her to come and sit with him while I spruced myself.”
”I'll have a look at him,” said Edwin, in another tone.
”Yes, I wish you would.” Now, as often, he was struck by Maggie's singular deference to him, her submission to his judgement. In the past her att.i.tude had been different; she had exercised the moral rights of an elder sister; but latterly she had mysteriously transformed herself into a younger sister.