Part 18 (1/2)
”The hemorrhage was not all blood. I think an abscess has broken, and it may save his life. He must have a change as soon as it is safe to move him; but at present it might be fatal. Your money and his in the Boston bank will make him comfortable, and unless you use it I shall be obliged to interfere. Let the doctor decide where and when the child should go.
To-morrow at two o'clock I wish to come here, but you can easily avoid seeing me if you so desire. May G.o.d soften your heart towards your unfortunate but faithful husband.”
When Father Temple entered the Herriott library, Noel rose from a desk where he was sealing letters and put out both hands.
”Herriott, most blessed of friends! How can I ever thank you?”
”You have found your wife and child? Thank G.o.d! I could scarcely wait for the good news I was sure you would bring me.”
His eyes were misty, and the grip of his hands was harder than he knew as he drew the priest to a chair.
”Dear old fellow, it has been rather too much for you. Brace yourself with this mixture. I had an idea your Reverence might need a tonic, since 'after the manner of men, you have fought with beasts at Ephesus.'
Drink it! Your spiritual superior would advise it if he could see your face.”
”Tell me, Noel, how you discovered Nona.”
”I saw her at the glove counter where she is employed, and was puzzled by her resemblance to a face I had admired in San Francisco. I heard out there that some mystery hung about her, but no hint of any impropriety on her part. Such delicacy of features and perfect coloring are rare, and faces so beautiful etch deep on one's memory. Belmont painted her as 'Aurora' in his group, and gave me a photograph of her head; but he spoke of her with respect, and commented on her proud prudishness in refusing to sit in his studio. You recollect Sidney Forsyth? He carried me to a 'night school' for working girls, established by his mother, and there I first saw 'Aurora,' hard at work in the bookkeeping cla.s.s. He admired her extravagantly, and told me that despite her girlish appearance she was a widow with a child, and lived like a nun in the very small cottage of an old uncle. Last summer, in hunting through a discarded trunk hastily packed at Oxford while you were on the Continent, I found among several sheets from your portfolio that water-color sketch, and it revived my old suspicion that some early tragedy had driven you into cloisters. Sooner or later one finds on almost every man's road through life the sign-post, _dux femina facti_, and I stumbled against yours when I had ceased to conjecture your motive for a course that astounded your friends. Last night, after you left me, I verified a few dates in my diary, and to-day's visit to Brooklyn made it absolutely certain my identification was correct. I congratulate you, and am heartily glad that I helped to flush your family covey.”
”Congratulations sound grim after all I pa.s.sed through to-day. Did you ever dream you were dying from thirst, and just as you stooped to drink the spring vanished? I have realized that tantalizing vision. Nona will never forgive me, never accept my explanation, never believe my statements, never tolerate the sight of me. She hates me with an intensity that is sickening, and because the child is mine she would rather see him in his coffin than in my arms. She hugs to her heart the conviction that I am utterly vile, because she wants to believe the worst, and furiously rejects any attempt to prove that I am not a doubly dyed hypocrite and villain. You have been so loyal a friend, I should like to tell you all that occurred.”
When he finished a detailed recital of his interview, he leaned back, sighed heavily, and closed his eyes.
”I knew you were going into a fiery furnace, for, from what I have heard and seen of your wife, I fear she is one of the few inexorable women, impervious to reason, to pa.s.sionate pleading, to the most adroit cajolery. The hotter the lava, the harder when it cools. Will you permit me to offer a suggestion?”
The priest raised his haggard face and laid his hand on Mr. Herriott's knee.
”I shall be grateful for advice which I sorely need just now.”
”You have found the missing, but if you are not wide awake and cautious you will lose them again, and permanently.”
”What do you mean?”
”You told her you would go back to-morrow at two o'clock? I rather think you will not find her; she will have vanished forever.”
”Impossible! The child is too ill to be moved, and she would not risk the danger to him.”
”In her present mood nothing is impossible, and she would dare death if it were necessary, in order to thwart you. She belongs to more than one society of communists, and the freemasonry in operation is marvellous.
There are places in this city, in Chicago, and in several New Jersey towns where she could disappear as successfully as in a Siberian mine; and you must keep in touch with your beautiful boy, who is much too fine a porcelain vase to be filled with the vitriol of socialism. Before you sleep to-night ask the police department to set a special watchman in sight of that house, with instructions to report to you any indications of intended removal.”
”Then I must go, although I do not share your apprehension that Nona would rashly risk the boy's safety. Noel, I owe you so much--and for such various benefits--I am simply bankrupt in expressions of grat.i.tude; but at least I can pray G.o.d to grant you your dearest desire in life, be that what it may.”
He rose, and Mr. Herriott walked with him to the front door.
”Temple, write me fully all that you know I shall wish to hear. Let me help you in any way possible to secure a change of climate for your little St. John of the gilded locks. Early to-morrow I go home, and in a few days your cousins from Was.h.i.+ngton will be my guests. Are you quite willing Eglah should know the complications surrounding you at present?”
”Tell her everything, and do not spare me or suffer her to blame the innocent victims of my rashness. Some day Eglah may help me to soften my Nona's heart. When and where may I hope to see you again?”
”Very soon I start to Arizona for a short stay, thence to the most northern of the Aleutian Islands, where I expect to find Eskimo cliff-dwellers, and later to the region northwest of Hudson Bay. Be sure to write me, and Vernon--pardon my perhaps unjustifiable insistence--don't fail to secure police surveillance before you sleep.”