Chapter XXXIII--The Queen's Room

by Bram Stoker

　　To Stephen all that now happened seemed like a dream. She saw Hectorand his gallant young master forge across the smoother water of thecurrent whose boisterous stream had been somewhat stilled in thechurning amongst the rocks, and then go north in the direction of theswimmer who, strange to say, was drifting in again towards the sunkenrocks. Then she saw the swimmer's head sink under the water; and herheart grew cold. Was this to be the end! Was such a brave man to belost after such gallant effort as he had made, and just at the momentwhen help was at hand!The few seconds seemed ages. Instinctively she shut her eyes andprayed again. 'Oh! God. Give me this man's life that I may atone!'God seemed to have heard her prayer. Nay, more! He had mercifullyallowed her to be the means of averting great danger. She wouldnever, could never, forget the look on the man's face when he saw, bythe flame that she had kindled, ahead of him the danger from thesunken rocks. She had exulted at the thought. And now . . .She was recalled by a wild cheer beside her. Opening her eyes shesaw that the man's head had risen again from the water. He wasswimming furiously, this time seaward. But close at hand were theheads of the swimming horse and man . . . She saw the young squireseize the man . . .And then the rush of her tears blinded her. When she could see againthe horse had turned and was making back again to the shelter of thepoint. The squire had his arm stretched across the horse's back; hewas holding up the sailor's head, which seemed to roll helplesslywith every motion of the cumbering sea.For a little she thought he was dead, but the voice of the old whalerreassured her:'He was just in time! The poor chap was done!' And so with beatingheart and eyes that did not flinch now she watched the slow progressto the shelter of the point. The coastguards and fishermen had madeup their minds where the landing could be made, and were ready; onthe rocky shelf, whence Hector had at jumped, they stood by withlines. When the squire had steered and encouraged the horse, whosesnorting could be heard from the sheltered water, till he was justbelow the rocks, they lowered a noosed rope. This he fastened roundthe senseless man below his shoulders. One strong, careful pull, andhe was safe on land; and soon was being borne up the steep zigzag onthe shoulders of the willing crowd.In the meantime other ropes were passed down to the squire. One heplaced round his own waist; two others he fastened one on each sideof the horse's girth. Then his friend lowered the bridle, and hemanaged to put it on the horse and attached a rope to it. Thefishermen took the lines, and, paying out as they went so as to leaveplenty of slack line, got on the rocks just above the little beachwhereon, sheltered though it was, the seas broke heavily. There theywaited, ready to pull the horse through the surf when he should havecome close enough.Stephen did not see the rescue of the horse; for just then a tallgrave man spoke to her:'Pardon me, Lady de Lannoy, but is the man to be brought up to theCastle? I am told you have given orders that all the rescued shallbe taken there.' She answered unhesitatingly'Certainly! I gave orders before coming out that preparation was tobe made for them.''I am Mr. Hilton. I have just come down to do lacum tenens for Dr.Winter at Lannoch Port. I rode over on hearing there was a wreck,and came here with the rocket-cart. I shall take charge of the manand bring him up. He will doubtless want some special care.''If you will be so good!' she answered, feeling a diffidence whichwas new to her. At that moment the crowd carrying the senseless manbegan to appear over the cliff, coming up the zig-zag. The Doctorhurried towards him; she followed at a little distance, fearing lestshe should hamper him. Under his orders they laid the patient on theweather side of the bonfire so that the smoke would not reach him.The Doctor knelt by his side.An instant after he looked up and said:'He is alive; his heart is beating, though faintly. He had better betaken away at once. There is no means here of shelter.''Bring him in the rocket-cart; it is the only conveyance here,' criedStephen. 'And bring Mr. Hepburn too. He also will need some careafter his gallant service. I shall ride on and advise my householdof your coming. And you good people come all to the Castle. You areto be my guests if you will so honour me. No! No! Really I shouldprefer to ride alone!'She said this impulsively, seeing that several of the gentlemen wererunning for their horses to accompany her. 'I shall not wait tothank that valiant young gentleman. I shall see him at Lannoy.'As she was speaking she had taken the bridle of her horse. One ofthe young men stooped and held his hand; she bowed, put her foot init and sprang to the saddle. In an instant she was flying acrosscountry at full speed, in the dark. A wild mood was on her, reactionfrom the prolonged agony of apprehension. There was little which shewould not have done just then.The gale whistled round her and now and again she shouted with purejoy. It seemed as if God Himself had answered her prayer and givenher the returning life!By the time she had reached the Castle the wild ride had done itssoothing work. She was calm again, comparatively; her wits andfeelings were her own.There was plenty to keep her occupied, mind and body. The train ofpersons saved from the wreck were arriving in all sorts of vehicles,and as clothes had to be found for them as well as food and shelterthere was no end to the exertions necessary. She felt as though theworld were not wide enough for the welcome she wished to extend. Itsexercise was a sort of reward of her exertions; a thank-offering forthe response to her prayer. She moved amongst her guests, forgetfulof herself; of her strange attire; of the state of dishevelment andgrime in which she was, the result of the storm, her long ride overrough ground with its share of marshes and pools, and the smoke fromthe bonfire and the blazing house. The strangers wondered at first,till they came to understand that she was the Lady Bountiful who hadstretched her helpful hands to them. Those who could, madethemselves useful with the new batches of arrivals. The whole Castlewas lit from cellar to tower. The kitchens were making lordlyprovision, the servants were carrying piles of clothes of all sorts,and helping to fit those who came still wet from their passagethrough or over the heavy sea.In the general disposition of chambers Stephen ordered to be setapart for the rescued swimmer the Royal Chamber where Queen Elizabethhad lain; and for Mr. Hepburn that which had been occupied by theSecond George. She had a sort of idea that the stranger was God'sguest who was coming to her house; and that nothing could be too goodfor him. As she waited for his coming, even though she swept to andfro in her ministrations to others, she felt as though she trod onair. Some great weight seemed to have been removed from her. Hersoul was free again!At last the rocket-cart arrived, and with it many horsemen and suchmen and women as could run across country with equal speed to thehorses labouring by the longer road.The rescued man was still senseless, but that alone did not seem tocause anxiety to the Doctor, who hurried him at once into theprepared room. When, assisted by some of the other men, he hadundressed him, rubbed him down and put him to bed, and had seen someof the others who had been rescued from the wreck, he sought out Ladyde Lannoy. He told her that his anxiety was for the man's sight; anannouncement which blanched his hearer's cheeks. She had so made upher mind as to his perfect safety that the knowledge of any kind ofill came like a cruel shock. She questioned Mr. Hilton closely; soclosely that he thought it well to tell her at once all that hesurmised and feared:'That fine young fellow who swam out with his horse to him, tells methat when he neared him he cried out that he was blind. I have madesome inquiries from those on the ship, and they tell me that he was apassenger, named Robinson. Not only was he not blind then, but hewas the strongest and most alert man on the ship. If it be blindnessit must have come on during that long swim. It may be that beforeleaving the ship he received some special injury--indeed he hasseveral cuts and burns and bruises--and that the irritation of thesea-water increased it. I can do nothing till he wakes. At presenthe is in such a state that nothing can be done for him. Later Ishall if necessary give him a hypodermic to ensure sleep. In themorning when I come again I shall examine him fully.''But you are not going away to-night!' said Stephen in dismay.'Can't you manage to stay here? Indeed you must! Look at all thesepeople, some of whom may need special attention or perhaps treatment.We do not know yet if any may be injured.' He answered at once:'Of course I shall stay if you wish it. But there are two otherdoctors here already. I must go over to my own place to get somenecessary instruments for the examination of this special patient.But that I can do in the early morning.''Can I not send for what you want; the whole household are at yourservice. All that can be done for that gallant man must be done.You can send to London for special help if you wish. If that man isblind, or in danger of blindness, we must have the best oculist inthe world for him.''All shall be done that is possible,' said he earnestly. 'But till Iexamine him in the morning we can do nothing. I am myself anoculist; that is my department in St. Stephen's Hospital. I have anidea of what is wrong, but I cannot diagnose exactly until I can usethe ophthalmoscope.' His words gave Stephen confidence. Laying herhand on his arm unconsciously in the extremity of pity she saidearnestly:'Oh, do what you can for him. He must be a noble creature; and allthat is possible must be done. I shall never rest happily if throughany failing on my part he suffers as you fear.''I shall do all I can,' he said with equal earnestness, touched withher eager pity. 'And I shall not trust myself alone, if any othercan be of service. Depend upon it, Lady de Lannoy, all shall be asyou wish.'There was little sleep in the Castle that night till late. Mr.Hilton slept on a sofa in the Queen's Room after he had administereda narcotic to his patient.As soon as the eastern sky began to quicken, he rode, as he hadarranged during the evening, to Dr. Winter's house at Lannoch Portwhere he was staying. After selecting such instruments and drugs ashe required, he came back in the dogcart.It was still early morning when he regained the Castle. He foundLady de Lannoy up and looking anxiously for him. Her concern wassomewhat abated when he was able to tell her that his patient stillslept.It was a painful scene for Mr. Hilton when his patient woke.Fortunately some of the after-effects of the narcotic remained, forhis despair at realising that he was blind was terrible. It was notthat he was violent; to be so under his present circumstances wouldhave been foreign to Harold's nature. But there was a despair whichwas infinitely more sad to witness than passion. He simply moaned tohimself:'Blind! Blind!' and again in every phase of horrified amazement, asthough he could not realise the truth: 'Blind! Blind!' The Doctorlaid his hand on his breast and said very gently:'My poor fellow, it is a dreadful thing to face, to think of. But asyet I have not been able to come to any conclusion; unable even toexamine you. I do not wish to encourage hopes that may be false, butthere are cases when injury is not vital and perhaps only temporary.In such case your best chance, indeed your only chance, is to keepquiet. You must not even think if possible of anything that mayexcite you. I am now about to examine you with the ophthalmoscope.You are a man; none of us who saw your splendid feat last night candoubt your pluck. Now I want you to use some of it to help us both.You, for your recovery, if such is possible; me, to help me in mywork. I have asked some of your late companions who tell me that onshipboard you were not only well and of good sight, but that you wereremarkable even amongst strong men. Whatever it is you suffer frommust have come on quickly. Tell me all you can remember of it.'The Doctor listened attentively whilst Harold told all he couldremember of his sufferings. When he spoke of the return of oldrheumatic pains his hearer said involuntarily: 'Good!' Haroldpaused; but went on at once. The Doctor recognised that he hadrightly appraised his remark, and by it judged that he was a well-educated man. Something in the method of speaking struck him, and hesaid, as nonchalantly as he could:'By the way, which was your University?''Cambridge. Trinity.' He spoke without thinking, and the instant hehad done so stopped. The sense of his blindness rushed back on him.He could not see; and his ears were not yet trained to take the placeof his eyes. He must guard himself. Thenceforward he was socautious in his replies that Mr. Hilton felt convinced there was somepurpose in his reticence. He therefore stopped asking questions, andbegan to examine him. He was unable to come to much result; hisopinion was shown in his report to Lady de Lannoy:'I am unable to say anything definite as yet. The case is a mostinteresting one; as a case and quite apart from the splendid fellowwho is the subject of it. I have hopes that within a few days I maybe able to know more. I need not trouble you with surgical terms;but later on if the diagnosis supports the supposition at present inmy mind I shall be able to speak more fully. In the meantime Ishall, with your permission, wait here so that I may watch himmyself.''Oh you are good. Thank you! Thank you!' said Stephen. She had sotaken the man under her own care that she was grateful for anykindness shown to him.'Not at all'' said Mr. Hilton. 'Any man who behaved as that fellowdid has a claim on any of us who may help him. No time of mine couldbe better spent.'When he went back to the patient's room he entered softly, for hethought he might be asleep. The room was, according to hisinstructions, quite dark, and as it was unfamiliar to him he felt hisway cautiously. Harold, however, heard the small noise he made andsaid quietly:'Who is there?''It is I; Hilton.''Are you alone?''Yes.''Look round the room and see. Then lock the door and come and talkto me if you will. You will pity a poor blind fellow, I know. Thedarkness has come down upon me so quickly that I am not accustomed toit!' There was a break in his voice which moved the other. He lit acandle, feeling that the doing so would impress his patient, and wentround the room; not with catlike movement this time--he wanted theother to hear him. When he had turned the key in the lock, assharply as he could, he came to the bedside and sat down. Haroldspoke again after a short pause:'Is that candle still lit?''Yes! Would you like it put out?''If you don't mind! Again I say pity me and pardon me. But I wantto ask you something privately, between our two selves; and I willfeel more of equality than if you were looking at me, whilst I cannotsee you.' Mr Hilton blew out the candle.'There! We are equal now.''Thank you!' A long pause; then he went on:'When a man becomes suddenly blind is there usually, or evenoccasionally, any sort of odd sight? . . . Does he see anything likea dream, a vision?''Not that I know of. I have never heard of such a case. As a rulepeople struck blind by lightning, which is the most common cause,sometimes remember with extraordinary accuracy the last thing theyhave seen. Just as though it were photographed on the retina!''Thank you! Is such usually the recurrence of any old dream oranything they have much thought of?''Not that I know of. It would be unusual!' Harold waited a longtime before he spoke again. When he did so it was in a differentvoice; a constrained voice. The Doctor, accustomed to takeenlightenment from trivial details, noted it:'Now tell me, Mr. Hilton, something about what has happened. Wheream I?''In Lannoy Castle.''Where is it?''In Angleshire!''Who does it belong to?''Lady de Lannoy. The Countess de Lannoy; they tell me she is aCountess in her own right.''It is very good of her to have me here. Is she an old lady?''No! A young one. Young and very beautiful.' After a pause beforehis query:'What's she like? Describe her to me!''She is young, a little over twenty. Tall and of a very fine figure.She has eyes like black diamonds, and hair like a flame!' For a longtime Harold remained still. Then he said:'Tell me all you know or have learned of this whole affair. How wasI rescued, and by whom?' So the Doctor proceeded to give him everydetail he knew of. When he was quite through, the other again laystill for a long time. The silence was broken by a gentle tap at thedoor. The Doctor lit a candle. He turned the key softly, so that noone would notice that the door was locked. Something was said in alow whisper. Then the door was gently closed, and the Doctorreturning said:'Lady Lannoy wants, if it will not disturb you, to ask how you are.Ordinarily I should not let anyone see you. But she is not only yourhostess, but, as I have just told you, it was her ride to theheadland, where she burned the house to give you light, which was thebeginning of your rescue. Still if you think it better not . . . !''I hardly like anybody to see me like this!' said Harold, feeblyseeking an excuse.'My dear man,' said the other, 'you may be easy in your mind, shewon't see much of you. You are all bandages and beard. She'll haveto wait a while before she sees you.''Didn't she see me last night?''Not she! Whilst we were trying to restore you she was rushing backto the Castle to see that all was ready for you, and for the othersfrom the wreck.' This vaguely soothed Harold.If his surmise was correct, and if she had not seen him then, it waswell that he was bandaged now. He felt that it would not do torefuse to let her see him; it might look suspicious. So afterpausing a short while he said in a low voice:'I suppose she had better come now. We must not keep her waiting!'When the Doctor brought her to his bedside Stephen felt in a measureawed. His bandaged face and head and his great beard, singed inpatches, looked to her in the dim light rather awesome. In a verygentle voice she said kind things to the sick man, who acknowledgedthem in a feeble whisper. The Doctor, a keen observer, noticed thechange in his voice, and determined to understand more. Stephenspoke of his bravery, and of how it was due to him that all on theship were saved; and as she spoke her emotion moved her so much thather sweet voice shook and quivered. To the ears of the man who hadnow only sound to guide him, it was music of the sweetest he had everheard. Fearing lest his voice should betray him, he whispered hisown thanks feebly and in few words.When Stephen went away the Doctor went with her; it was more than anhour before he returned. He found his patient in what he considereda state of suppressed excitement; for, though his thoughts weremanifestly collected and his words were calm, he was restless andexcited in other ways. He had evidently been thinking of his owncondition; for shortly after the Doctor came in he said:'Are we alone?''Quite!''I want you to arrange that there shall not be any nurse with me.''My dear sir! Don't handicap me, and yourself, with such arestriction. It is for your own good that you should have regularand constant attention.''But I don't wish it. Not for the present at all events. I am notaccustomed to a nurse, and shall not feel comfortable. In a few daysperhaps . . . ' The decided tone of his voice struck the other.Keeping his own thoughts and intentions in abeyance, even to himself,he answered heartily:'All right! I shall not have any nurse, at present.''Thanks!' There was relief in the tone which seemed undue, and Mr.Hilton again took mental note. Presently he asked a question, but insuch a tone that the Doctor pricked up his ears. There was apremeditated self-suppression, a gravity of restraint, which impliedsome falsity; some intention other than the words conveyed:'It must have been a job to carry me up those stairs.' The Doctorwas doubting everything, but as the safest attitude he stuck toliteral truth so far as his words conveyed it:'Yes. You are no light weight!' To himself he mused:'How did he know there were stairs? He cannot know it; he wassenseless! Therefore he must be guessing or inquiring!' Harold wenton:'I suppose the Castle is on high ground. Can you see far from thewindows? I suppose we are up a good height?''From the windows you can see all round the promontory. But we arenot high up; that is, the room is not high from the ground, thoughthe Castle is from the sea.' Harold asked again, his voice vibratingin the note of gladness:'Are we on the ground floor then?''Yes.''And I suppose the gardens are below us?''Yes.' The answer was given quickly, for a thought was floatingthrough him: Why did this strong brave man, suddenly stricken blind,wish to know whether his windows were at a height? He was notsurprised when his patient reaching out a hand rested it on his armand said in an imploring tone:'It should be moonlight; full moon two nights ago. Won't you pull upthe blind and describe to me all you see? . . . Tell me fully . . .Remember, I am blind!'This somehow fixed the Doctor's thought:'Suicide! But I must convey the inutility of such effort byinference, not falsity.'Accordingly he began to describe the scene, from the very base of thewall, where below the balcony the great border was glorious with amass of foliage plants, away to the distant sea, now bathed in theflood of moonlight. Harold asked question after question; the Doctorreplying accurately till he felt that the patient was building up aconcrete idea of his surroundings near and far. Then he left him.He stood for a long time out in the passage thinking. He said tohimself as he moved away:'The poor fellow has some grim intention in his mind. I must not lethim know that I suspect; but to-night I will watch without hisknowing it!'