Part 18 (1/2)

Self-blame just then she was very full of; bitterness for not having gone to him in the first instance herself. Tortured herself with the thought that it might now be too late. Wondered if G.o.d would forgive her obstinate pride. Still be merciful to her: still let her keep her child.

She bent over the bed and spoke close into the little ear. Made spasmodic but unavailing attempts to control her emotion: could not bring herself to utter the words more than just audibly:

”You'll be quite still, darling, won't you, whilst mother goes to fetch him?”

The face turned upwards. The mother kissed it pa.s.sionately, tenderly, again and again. The wasted little arms went round her neck and clung there gratefully. Mother was going to fetch Prince Charlie!

From the adjoining room the woman who a.s.sisted in the child's nursing came; posted herself by the bedside. Then the mother--staggering as if the unknown gaped before her--left the room. In the hall slipped on the cloak which, she remembered, he had b.u.t.toned.

She spent no time in seeking a hat. Swung the hood up from behind over her head. So hurried out of the house.

So, into the night.

CHAPTER XV

ON HER KNEES TO HIM

Wivernsea was asleep. Like its blacksmith, it believed in the theory of early rising. Not a light was to be seen in one of the windows she pa.s.sed. Not until she came to the end of the Marine Terrace. There she saw an illuminated window: her beacon.

It was but a short distance from her own place; not ten minutes' walk.

She seems to have spent as many hours in covering it. Despite the proverb, time does not always fly.

The house which Masters lodged in was known to her. He had described the quaintness of its old-fas.h.i.+oned bay window; the only one in the row. She would have known it as his place without even the beacon light for identification. He was a slave of the lamp: consumed the midnight oil.

As she made towards the light she prayed, almost aloud. Prayed for a conquering power--over her pride. That she might be humble. For the framing of words to move this man when she besought him to come.

Soulfully prayed that G.o.d would incline his heart to hear her prayer.

Three steps--she faltered up them; proximity to her goal rendered her invertebrate--brought her to the level of the door. If she put her hand over the rails she could tap at the window. It would be better so than disturbing the household by knocking. She tapped.

Her actions elicited no response! She waited, with a hard-beating heart.

Still no reply: dead silence! Had he expected this--this visit of hers--and resolved to remain obdurate?

The window blind was not pulled down to its full length. Through the lace edging she could see the man calmly writing; writing as if thoroughly engrossed in his work. Evidently the thought of his cruelty did not trouble him in the least.

In desperation, there seemed nothing else to do, she used her fingers again: loudly. Masters looked up; started in astonishment. Heard a distinct tapping on the gla.s.s of his window!

He walked to the cas.e.m.e.nt; pulled the cord attached to a spring roller, and in a moment the blind had shot up. Outside all was moonlight brightness. At first he looked straight away; saw only the sea with the intervening roadway. Then, suddenly, at the side, on the steps, saw a woman with a ghastly white, haggard face looking at him! The Woman He Loved!

Start? He almost jumped in his amazement! Was he dreaming? Was it his phantasy? Then he came plump to earth; lost no further time in surmises; went to the door.

The room opened on to the hall; the street door was but a couple of yards away. He had gripped its handle and opened it in a moment. The woman was there--no phantasy--flesh and blood, clinging to the railings.

”My G.o.d! What has happened to bring you at this hour?”

”Just--a--moment!”

The answer given weakly; breathlessly. A swerve, and she would have fallen, but for an almost nerveless clutch at the railings--but that he was by her side in a moment, with a strong upholding arm round her waist.

There was unconsciousness of his clasp; things were all going round with her.... She had a feeling of being lifted; then set down again.