Chapter XXXV--A Cry

by Bram Stoker

　　The third week had nearly elapsed, and as yet no one was allowed tosee the patient.For a time Stephen was inclined to be chagrined. It is not pleasantto have even the most generous and benevolent intentions thwarted;and she had set her mind on making much of this man whom fate and hisown bravery had thrown athwart her life. But in these days Stephenwas in some ways a changed woman. She had so much that she wished toforget and that she would have given worlds to recall, that she couldnot bear even to think of any militant or even questioning attitude.She even began to take herself to task more seriously than she hadever done with regard to social and conventional duties. When shefound her house full of so many and so varied guests, it was borne inupon her that such a position as her own, with such consequentduties, called for the presence of some elder person of her own sexand of her own class.No better proof of Stephen's intellectual process and its resultcould be adduced than her first act of recognition: she summoned anelderly lady to live with her and matronise her house. This lady,the widow of a distant relation, complied with all the chartedrequirements of respectability, and had what to Stephen's eyes was apositive gift: that of minding her own business and not interferingin any matter whatever. Lady de Lannoy, she felt, was her own masterand quite able to take care of herself. Her own presence was allthat convention required. So she limited herself to this duty, withadmirable result to all, herself included. After a few days Stephenwould almost forget that she was present.Mr. Hilton kept bravely to his undertaking. He never gave even ahint of his hopes of the restoration of sight; and he was soassiduous in his attention that there arose no opportunity ofaccidental discovery of the secret. He knew that when the time didcome he would find himself in a very unpleasant situation. Want ofconfidence, and even of intentional deceit, might be attributed tohim; and he would not be able to deny nor explain. He was, however;determined to stick to his word. If he could but save his patient'ssight he would be satisfied.But to Stephen all the mystery seemed to grow out of its firstshadowy importance into something real. There was coming to her avague idea that she would do well not to manifest any concern, anyanxiety, any curiosity. Instinct was at work; she was content totrust it, and wait.One forenoon she received by messenger a letter which interested hermuch. So much that at first she was unwilling to show it to anyone,and took it to her own boudoir to read over again in privacy. Shehad a sort of feeling of expectancy with regard to it; such assensitive natures feel before a thunderstorm. The letter was naturalenough in itself. It was dated that morning from Varilands, aneighbouring estate which marched with Lannoy to the south.'My Dear Madam,--Will you pardon me a great liberty, and allow mylittle girl and me to come to see you to-day? I shall explain whenwe meet. When I say that we are Americans and have come seventhousand miles for the purpose, you will, I am sure, understand thatit is no common interest which has brought us, and it will be theexcuse for our eagerness. I should write you more fully, but as thematter is a confidential one I thought it would be better to speak.We shall be doubly grateful if you will have the kindness to see usalone. I write as a mother in making this appeal to your kindness;for my child--she is only a little over eight years old--has thematter so deeply in her heart that any disappointment or undue delaywould I fear affect her health. We presume to take your kindness forgranted and will call a little before twelve o'clock.'I may perhaps say (in case you should feel any hesitation as to mybona fides) that my husband purchased some years ago this estate. Wewere to have come here to live in the early summer, but were kept inthe West by some important business of his.'Believe me, yours sincerely,'ALICE STONEHOUSE.'Stephen had, of course, no hesitation as to receiving the lady. Evenhad there been objection, the curiosity she had in common with herkind would have swept difficulties aside. She gave orders that whenMrs. Stonehouse arrived with her daughter they were to be shown atonce into the Mandarin drawing-room. That they would probably stayfor lunch. She would see them alone.A little before twelve o'clock Mrs. Stonehouse and Pearl arrived, andwere shown into the room where Lady de Lannoy awaited them. The highsun, streaming in from the side, shone on her beautiful hair, makingit look like living gold. When the Americans came in they were foran instant entranced by her beauty. One glance at Mrs. Stonehouse'ssweet sympathetic face was enough to establish her in Stephen's goodgraces forever. As for Pearl, she was like one who has unexpectedlyseen a fairy or a goddess. She had been keeping guardedly behind hermother, but on the instant she came out fearlessly into the open.Stephen advanced quickly and shook hands with Mrs. Stonehouse, sayingheartily:'I am so glad you have come. I am honoured in being trusted.''Thank you so much, Lady de Lannoy. I felt that you would not mind,especially when you know why we came. Indeed I had no choice. Pearlinsisted on it; and when Pearl is urgent--we who love her have all togive way. This is Pearl!'In an instant Stephen was on her knees by the beautiful child.The red rosebud of a mouth was raised to her kiss, and the littlearms went lovingly round her neck and clung to her. As the motherlooked on delighted she thought she had never seen a more beautifulsight. The two faces so different, and yet with so much in common.The red hair and the flaxen, both tints of gold. The fine colour ofeach heightened to a bright flush in their eagerness. Stephen was solittle used to children, and yet loved them so, that all thewomanhood in her, which is possible motherhood, went out in aninstant to the lovely eager child. She felt the keenest pleasurewhen the little thing, having rubbed her silk-gloved palms over herface, and then holding her away so that she could see her manybeauties, whispered in her ear:'How pretty you are!''You darling!' whispered Stephen in reply. 'We must love each othervery much, you and I!'When the two ladies had sat down, Stephen holding Pearl in her lap,Mrs. Stonehouse said:'I suppose you have wondered, Lady de Lannoy, what has brought ushere?''Indeed I was very much interested.''Then I had better tell you all from the beginning so that you mayunderstand.' She proceeded to give the details of the meeting withMr. Robinson on the Scoriac. Of how Pearl took to him and insistedon making him her special friend; of the terrible incident of herbeing swept overboard, and of the gallant rescue. Mrs. Stonehousewas much moved as she spoke. All that fearful time, of which theminutes had seemed years of agony, came back to her so vividly attimes that she could hardly speak. Pearl listened too; alleagerness, but without fear. Stephen was greatly moved and heldPearl close to her all the time, as though protecting her. When themother spoke of her feeling when she saw the brave man struggling upand down the giant waves, and now and again losing sight of him inthe trough of the sea, she put out one hand and held the mother'swith a grasp which vibrated in sympathy, whilst the great tearswelled over in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. Pearl, watching herkeenly, said nothing, but taking her tiny cambric handkerchief fromher pocket silently wiped the tears away, and clung all the tighter.It was her turn to protect now!Pearl's own time for tears came when her mother began to tell thisnew and sympathetic friend of how she became so much attached to herrescuer that when she knew he would not be coming to the West withthem, but going off to the wildest region of the far North, herhealth became impaired; and that it was only when Mr. Robinsonpromised to come back to see her within three years that she was atall comforted. And how, ever since, she had held the man in herheart and thought of him every day; sleeping as well as waking, forhe was a factor in her dreams!Stephen was more than ever moved, for the child's constancy touchedher as well as her grief. She strained the little thing in herstrong young arms, as though the fervency of her grasp would bringbelief and comfort; as it did. She in her turn dried the others'eyes. Then Mrs. Stonehouse went on with her story:'We were at Banff, high up in the Rockies, when we read of theburning and wrecking of the Dominion. It is, as you know, a Montrealboat of the Allan Line; so that naturally there was a fulltelegraphic report in all the Canadian papers. When we read of thebrave man who swam ashore with the line and who was unable to reachthe port but swam out across the bay, Pearl took it for granted thatit must have been "The Man," as she always called Mr. Robinson. Whenby the next paper we learned that the man's name was Robinson nothingwould convince her that it was not her Mr. Robinson. My husband, Imay tell you, had firmly come to the same conclusion. He had eversince the rescue of our child always looked for any news from Alaska,whither he knew Mr. Robinson had gone. He learned that up away inthe very far North a new goldfield had been discovered by a man ofthe same name; and that a new town, Robinson City, began to grow upin the wilderness, where the condition of life from the cold was anew experience to even the most hardy gold miners. Then we began tothink that the young hero who had so gallantly saved our darling wasmeeting some of his reward . . . !'She paused, her voice breaking. Stephen was in a glow of holyfeeling. Gladness, joy, gratitude, enthusiasm; she knew not which.It all seemed like a noble dream which was coming true. Mrs.Stonehouse went on:-'From Californian papers of last month we learned that Robinson, ofRobinson City, had sailed for San Francisco, but had disappeared whenthe ship touched at Portland; and then the whole chain of hisidentity seemed complete. Nothing would satisfy Pearl but that weshould come at once to England and see "The Man," who was wounded andblind, and do what we could for him. Her father could not then comehimself; he had important work on hand which he could not leavewithout some preparation. But he is following us and may be here atany time.'And now, we want you to help us, Lady de Lannoy. We are not sureyet of the identity of Mr. Robinson, but we shall know the instant wesee him, or hear his voice. We have learned that he is still here.Won't you let us? Do let us see him as soon as ever you can!' Therewas a pleading tone in her voice which alone would have movedStephen, even had she not been wrought up already by the glowingfervour of her new friend.But she paused. She did not know what to say; how to tell them thatas yet she herself knew nothing. She, too, in the depths of her ownheart knew--knew--that it was the same Robinson. And she also knewthat both identities were one with another. The beating of her heartand the wild surging of her blood told her all. She was afraid tospeak lest her voice should betray her.She could not even think. She would have to be alone for that.Mrs. Stonehouse, with the wisdom and power of age, waited, suspendingjudgment. But Pearl was in a fever of anxiety; she could imaginenothing which could keep her away from The Man. But she saw thatthere was some difficulty, some cause of delay. So she too added herpleading. Putting her mouth close to Lady de Lannoy's ear shewhispered very faintly, very caressingly:'What is your name? Your own name? Your very own name?''Stephen, my darling!''Oh, won't you let us see The Man, Stephen; dear Stephen! I love himso; and I do so want to see him. It is ages till I see him! Won'tyou let me? I shall be so good--Stephen!' And she strained hercloser in her little arms and kissed her all over face, cheeks andforehead and eyes and mouth wooingly. Stephen returned the embraceand the kisses, but remained silent a little longer. Then she foundvoice:'I hardly know what to say. Believe me, I should--I shall, do all Ican; but the fact is that I am not in authority. The Doctor hastaken him in charge and will not let anyone go near him: He will noteven have a nurse, but watches and attends to him himself. He saysit might be fatal if anything should occur to agitate him. Why, evenI am not allowed to see him!''Haven't you seen him yet at all; ever, ever, Stephen?' asked Pearl,all her timidity gone. Stephen smiled--a wan smile it was, as sheanswered:'I saw him in the water, but it was too far away to distinguish. Andit was only by firelight.''Oh yes, I know,' said Pearl; 'Mother and Daddy told me how you hadburned the house down to give him light. Didn't you want to see himmore after that? I should!' Stephen drew the impulsive child closeras she answered:'Indeed I did, dear. But I had to think of what was good for him. Iwent to his room the next day when he was awake, and the Doctor letme come in for only a moment.''Well! What did you see. Didn't you know him?' She forgot that theother did not know him from her point of view. But the question wentthrough Stephen's heart like a sword. What would she not have givento have known him! What would she not give to know him now! . . .She spoke mechanically:'The room was quite dark. It is necessary, the Doctor says, that hebe kept in the dark. I saw only a big beard, partly burned away bythe fire; and a great bandage which covered his eyes!' Pearl's holdrelaxed, she slipped like an eel to the floor and ran over to hermother. Her new friend was all very well, but no one would do aswell as mother when she was in trouble.'Oh mother, mother! My Robinson had no beard!' Her mother strokedher face comfortingly as she answered:'But, my dear, it is more than two years since you saw him. Twoyears and three months, for it was in June that we crossed.' How thedate thrilled Stephen. It verified her assumption.Mrs. Stonehouse did not notice, but went on:'His beard would have grown. Men wear beards up in the cold placewhere he was.' Pearl kissed her; there was no need for words.Throwing herself again on Stephen's knees she went on with herquestioning:'But didn't you hear him?''I heard very little, darling. He was very weak. It was only themorning after the wreck, and he spoke in a whisper!' Then with aninstinct of self-preservation she added: 'But how could I learnanything by hearing him when he was a stranger to me? I had nevereven heard of Mr. Robinson!'As she was speaking she found her own ideas, the proofs of her ownconviction growing. This was surely another link in the chain ofproving that all three men were but one. But in such case Haroldmust know; must have tried to hide his identity!She feared, with keen eyes upon her, to pursue the thought. But herblood began to grow cold and her brain to swim. With an effort shewent on:'Even since then I have not been allowed to go near him. Of course Imust obey orders. I am waiting as patiently as I can. But we mustask the Doctor if he thinks his patient will see you--will let yousee him--though he will not let me.' This she added with a touch ofwhat she felt: regret rather than bitter ness. There was no roomfor bitterness in her full heart where Harold was concerned.'Will you ask the Doctor now?' Pearl did not let grass grow underher feet. For answer Stephen rang the bell, and when a servantappeared asked:'Is Mr. Hilton in the house?''I think not, your Ladyship. He said he was going over to PortLannoch. Shall I inquire if he left word at what time he would beback?''If you please!' The man returned in a few minutes with the butler,who said:'Mr. Hilton said, your Ladyship, that he expected to be back by oneo'clock at latest.''Please ask him on his arrival if he will kindly come here at once.Do not let us be disturbed until then.' The butler bowed andwithdrew.'Now,' said Stephen, 'as we have to wait till our tyrant comes, won'tyou tell me all that went on after The Man had left you?' Pearlbrightened up at once. Stephen would have given anything to get awayeven for a while. Beliefs and hopes and fears were surging up, tillshe felt choking. But the habit of her life, especially her life ofthe last two years, gave her self-control. And so she waited, tryingwith all her might to follow the child's prattle.After a long wait Pearl exclaimed: 'Oh! I do wish that Doctor wouldcome. I want to see The Man!' She was so restless, marching aboutthe room, that Stephen said:'Would you like to go out on the balcony, darling; of course ifMother will let you? It is quite safe, I assure you, Mrs.Stonehouse. It is wide and open and is just above the flower-borders, with a stone tail. You can see the road from it by whichMr. Hilton comes from Port Lannoch. He will be riding.' Pearlyielded at once to the diversion. It would at any rate be somethingto do, to watch. Stephen opened the French window and the child ranout on the balcony.When Stephen came back to her seat Mrs. Stonehouse said quietly:'I am glad she is away for a few minutes. She has been over wrought,and I am always afraid for her. She is so sensitive. And after allshe is only a baby!''She is a darling!' said Stephen impulsively; and she meant it. Mrs.Stonehouse smiled gratefully as she went on:'I suppose you noticed what a hold on her imagination that episode ofMollie Watford at the bank had. Mr. Stonehouse is, as perhaps youknow, a very rich man. He has made his fortune himself, and mosthonourably; and we are all very proud of him, and of it. So Pearldoes not think of the money for itself. But the feeling waseverything; she really loves Mr. Robinson; as indeed she ought! Hehas done so much for us that it would be a pride and a privilege forus to show our gratitude. My husband, between ourselves, wanted tomake him his partner. He tells me that, quite independent of ourfeeling towards him, he is just the man he wanted. And if indeed itwas he who discovered the Alaskan goldfield and organised and ruledRobinson City, it is a proof that Mr. Stonehouse's judgment wassound. Now he is injured, and blind; and our little Pearl loves him.If indeed he be the man we believe he is, then we may be able to dosomething which all his millions cannot buy. He will come to us, andbe as a son to us, and a brother to Pearl. We will be his eyes; andnothing but love and patience will guide his footsteps!' She paused,her mouth quivering; then she went on:'If it is not our Mr. Robinson, then it will be our pleasure to doall that is necessary for his comfort. If he is a poor man he willnever want . . . It will be a privilege to save so gallant a man fromhardship . . . ' Here she came to a stop.Stephen too was glad of the pause, for the emotion which the wordsand their remembrances evoked was choking her. Had not Harold beenas her own father's son. As her own brother! . . . She turned away,fearing lest her face should betray her.All at once Mrs. Stonehouse started to her feet, her face suddenlywhite with fear; for a cry had come to their ears. A cry which evenStephen knew as Pearl's. The mother ran to the window.The balcony was empty. She came back into the room, and' ran to thedoor.But on the instant a voice that both women knew was heard fromwithout:'Help there! Help, I say! The child has fainted. Is there no onethere? And I am blind!'