Chapter XXXVI--Light

by Bram Stoker

　　Harold had been in a state of increasing restlessness. The month ofwaiting which Dr. Hilton had laid down for him seemed to wear awaywith extraordinary slowness; this was increased by the lack ofcompanionship, and further by the cutting off of even the littleepisodes usual to daily life. His patience, great as it wasnaturally and trained as it had been by the years of self-repression,was beginning to give way. Often and often there came over him awild desire to tear off the irksome bandages and try for himselfwhether the hopes held out to him were being even partiallyjustified. He was restrained only by the fear of perpetualblindness, which came over him in a sort of cold wave at eachreaction. Time, too, added to his fear of discovery; but he couldnot but think that his self-sought isolation must be a challenge tothe curiosity of each and all who knew of it. And with all thesedisturbing causes came the main one, which never lessened but alwaysgrew: that whatever might happen Stephen would be further from himthan ever. Look at the matter how he would; turn it round inwhatsoever possible or impossible way, he could see no relief to thisgloomy conclusion.For it is in the nature of love that it creates or enlarges its ownpain. If troubles or difficulties there be from natural causes, thenit will exaggerate them into nightmare proportions. But if there benone, it will create them. Love is in fact the most serious thingthat comes to man; where it exists all else seem as phantoms, or atbest as actualities of lesser degree. During the better part of twoyears his troubles had but slept; and as nothing wakes the pangs ofold love better than the sound of a voice, all the old acute pain oflove and the agony that followed its denial were back with him.Surely he could never, never believe that Stephen did not mean whatshe had said to him that morning in the beech grove. All his newresolution not to hamper her with the burden of a blind and lonely-hearted man was back to the full.In such mood had he been that morning. He was additionally disturbedbecause the Doctor had gone early to Port Lannoch; and as he was theonly person with whom he could talk, he clung to him with somethingof the helpless feeling of a frightened child to its nurse.The day being full of sunshine the window was open, and only thedark-green blind which crackled and rustled with every passing breezemade the darkness of the room. Harold was dressed and lay on a sofaplaced back in the room, where the few rays of light thus enteringcould not reach him. His eyes and forehead were bandaged as ever.For some days the Doctor, who had his own reasons and his ownpurpose, had not taken them off; so the feeling of blind helplessnesswas doubly upon him. He knew he was blind; and he knew also that ifhe were not he could not in his present condition see.All at once he started up awake. His hearing had in the weeks ofdarkness grown abnormally acute, and some trifling sound had recalledhim to himself. It might have been inspiration, but he seemed to beconscious of some presence in the room.As he rose from the sofa, with the violent motion of a strong manstartled into unconscious activity, he sent a shock of fear to theeager child who had strayed into the room through the open window.Had he presented a normal appearance, she would not have beenfrightened. She would have recognised his identity despite thechanges, and have sprung to him so impulsively that she would havebeen in his arms before she had time to think. But now all she sawwas a great beard topped with a mass of linen and lint, whichobscured all the rest of the face and seemed in the gloom like agigantic and ominous turban.In her fright she screamed out. He in turn, forgetful for the momentof his intention of silence, called aloud:'Who is that?' Pearl, who had been instinctively backing towards thewindow by which she had entered, and whose thoughts in her fright hadgone back to her mother--refuge in time of danger--cried out:'Mother, Mother! It is him! It is The Man!' She would have runtowards him in spite of his forbidding appearance; but the shock hadbeen too much for her. The little knees trembled and gave way; thebrain reeled; and with a moan she sank on the floor in a swoon.Harold knew the voice the instant she spoke; there was no need forthe enlightening words'Pearl! Pearl!' he cried. 'Come to me, darling!' But as he spokehe heard her moan, and the soft thud of her little body on the thickcarpet. He guessed the truth and groped his way towards where thesound had been, for he feared lest he might trample upon her in toogreat eagerness. Kneeling by her he touched her little feet, andthen felt his way to her face. And as he did so, such is the doubleaction of the mind, even in the midst of his care the remembranceswept across his mind of how he had once knelt in just such manner inan old church by another little senseless form. In his confusion ofmind he lost the direction of the door, and coming to the windowpushed forward the flapping blind and went out on the balcony. Heknew from the freshness of the air and the distant sounds that he wasin the open. This disturbed him, as he wished to find someone whocould attend to the fainting child. But as he had lost the way backto the room now, he groped along the wall of the Castle with onehand, whilst he held Pearl securely in the other. As he went hecalled out for help.When he came opposite the window of the Mandarin room Mrs. Stonehousesaw him; she ran to him and caught Pearl in her arms. She was soagitated, so lost in concern for the child that she never eventhought to speak to the man whom she had come so far to seek. Shewailed over the child:'Pearl! Pearl! What is it, darling? It is Mother!' She laid thegirl on the sofa, and taking the flowers out of a glass began tosprinkle water on the child's face. Harold knew her voice and waitedin patience. Presently the child sighed; the mother, relieved,thought of other things at last and looked around her.There was yet another trouble. There on the floor, where she hadslipped down, lay Lady de Lannoy in a swoon. She called outinstinctively, forgetting for the moment that the man was blind, butfeeling all the old confidence which he had won in her heart:'Oh! Mr. Robinson, help me! Lady de Lannoy has fainted too, and Ido not know what to do!' As she spoke she looked up at him andremembered his blindness. But she had no time to alter her words;the instant she had spoken Harold, who had been leaning against thewindow-sash, and whose mind was calmer since with his acute hearinghe too had heard Pearl sigh, seemed to leap into the room.'Where is she? Where is she? Oh, God, now am I blind indeed!'It gave her a pang to hear him and to see him turn helplessly withhis arms and hands outstretched as though he would feel for her inthe air.Without pause, and under an instinctive and uncontrollable impulse,he tore the bandages from his eyes. The sun was streaming in. As hemet it his eyes blinked and a cry burst from him; a wild cry whosejoy and surprise pierced even through the shut portals of theswooning woman's brain. Not for worlds would she ever after havelost the memory of that sound:'Light! light! Oh, God! Oh, God! I am not blind!'But he looked round him still in terrified wonder:'Where is she? Where is she? I cannot see her! Stephen! Stephen!where are you?' Mrs. Stonehouse, bewildered, pointed where Stephen'ssnow-white face and brilliant hair seemed in the streaming sunlightlike ivory and gold:'There! There!' He caught her arm mechanically, and putting hiseyes to her wrist, tried to look along her pointed finger. In aninstant he dropped her arm moaning.'I cannot see her! What is it that is over me? This is worse thanto be blind!' He covered his face with his hands and sobbed.He felt light strong fingers on his forehead and hands; fingers whosetouch he would have known had they been laid on him were he no longerquick. A voice whose music he had heard in his dreams for two longyears said softly:'I am here, Harold! I am here! Oh! do not sob like that; it breaksmy heart to hear you!' He took his hands from his face and held hersin them, staring intently at her as though his passionate gaze wouldwin through every obstacle.That moment he never forgot. Never could forget! He saw the roomall rich in yellow. He saw Pearl, pale but glad-eyed, lying on asofa holding the hand of her mother, who stood beside her. He sawthe great high window open, the lines of the covered stone balconywithout, the stretch of green sward all vivid in the sunshine, andbeyond it the blue quivering sea. He saw all but that for which hisvery soul longed; without to see which sight itself was valueless . .. But still he looked, and looked; and Stephen saw in his dark eyes,though he could not see her, that which made her own eyes fill andthe warm red glow on her face again . . . Then she raised her eyesagain, and the gladness of her beating heart seemed the answer to hisown.For as he looked he saw, as though emerging from a mist whoseobscurity melted with each instant, what was to him the one face inall the world. He did not think then of its beauty--that would comelater; and besides no beauty of one born of woman could outmatch thememorised beauty which had so long held his heart. But that he hadso schooled himself in long months of gloomy despair, he would havetaken her in his arms there and then; and, heedless of the presenceof others, have poured out his full heart to her.Mrs. Stonehouse saw and understood. So too Pearl, who though a childwas a woman-child; softly they rose up to steal away. But Stephensaw them; her own instincts, too, told her that her hour had notcome. What she hoped for must come alone! So she called to herguests:'Don't go! Don't go, Mrs. Stonehouse. You know now that Harold andI are old friends, though neither of us knew it--till this moment.We were brought up as . . . almost as brother and sister. Pearl,isn't it lovely to see your friend . . . to see The Man again?'She was so happy that she could only express herself, with dignity,through the happiness of others.Pearl actually shrieked with joy as she rushed across the room andflung herself into Harold's arms as he stooped to her. He raisedher; and she kissed him again and again, and put her little hands allover his face and stroked, very, very gently, his eyes, and said:'Oh, I am so glad! And so glad your poor eyes are unbind again! MayI call you Harold, too?''You darling!' was all he could say as he kissed her, and holding herin one arm went across and shook hands with Mrs. Stonehouse, whowrung his hand hard.There was a little awkwardness in the group, for none of them knewwhat would be best to do next. In the midst of it there came a lightknock at the door, and Mr. Hilton entered saying:'They told me you wished to see me at once--Hulloa!' He rushedacross the room and took Harold by the shoulders, turning his face tothe light. He looked in his eyes long and earnestly, the othersholding their breaths. Presently he said, without relaxing his gaze:'Did you see mistily at first?''Yes.''Seeing at the periphery; but the centre being opaque?''Yes! How did you know? Why, I couldn't see'--see pointing toStephen--'Lady de Lannoy; though her face was right in front of me!'Dr. Hilton took his hands from his patient's shoulders and shook himwarmly by both hands:-'I am glad, old fellow! It was worth waiting for, wasn't it? But Isay, it was a dangerous thing to take off those bandages before Ipermitted. However, it has done no harm! But it was lucky that Imistrusted your patience and put the time for the experiment a weeklater than I thought necessary . . . What is it?' He turned from oneto the other questioningly; there was a look on Harold's face that hedid not quite comprehend.'H-s-h,' said the latter warningly, 'I'll tell you all about it . . .some time!'The awkward pause was broken by Pearl, who came to the Doctor andsaid:'I must kiss you, you know. It was you who saved The Man's eyes.Stephen has told me how you watched him!' The Doctor was somewhattaken aback; as yet he was ignorant of Pearl's existence. However,he raised the child in his arms and kissed her, saying:'Thank you, my dear! I did all I could. But he helped much himself;except at the very last. Don't you ever go and take off bandages, ifyou should ever have the misfortune to have them on, without thedoctor's permission!' Pearl nodded her head wisely and then wriggledout of his arms and came again to Harold, looking up at himprotectingly and saying in an old-fashioned way:'How are you feeling now? None the worse, I hope, Harold!'The Man lifted her up and kissed her again. When he set her down shecame over to Lady de Lannoy and held up her arms to be lifted:'And I must kiss you again too, Stephen!' If Lady de Lannoy hadn'tloved the sweet little thing already she would have loved her forthat!The door was opened, and the butler announced:'Luncheon is served, your Ladyship.'After a few days Harold went over to Varilands to stay for a whilewith the Stonehouses. Mr. Stonehouse had arrived, and both men wererejoiced to meet again. The elder never betrayed by word or signthat he recognised the identity of the other person of the drama ofwhom he had told him and who had come so accidentally into his life;and the younger was grateful to him for it. Harold went almost everyday to Lannoy, and sometimes the Stonehouses went with him; at othertimes Stephen paid flying visits to Varilands. She did not make anyeffort to detain Harold; she would not for worlds have made a signwhich might influence him. She was full now of that diffidence whichevery woman has who loves. She felt that she must wait; must waiteven if the waiting lasted to her grave. She felt, as every womandoes who really loves, that she had found her Master.And Harold, to whom something of the same diffidence was an oldstory, got the idea that her reticence was a part of the same feelingwhose violent expression had sent him out into the wilderness. Andwith the thought came the idea of his duty, implied in her father'sdying trust: 'Give her time! . . . Let her choose!' For him theclock seemed to have stopped for two whole years, and he was back atthe time when the guardianship of his boy life was beginning to yieldto the larger and more selfish guardianship of manhood.Stephen, noticing that he did not come near her as closely as shefelt he might, and not realising his true reason--for when did loveever realise the true reason of the bashfulness of love?--felt achillness which in turn reacted on her own manner.And so these two ardent souls, who yearned for each other's love andthe full expression of it, seemed as if they might end after all indrifting apart. Each thought that their secret was concealed. Butboth secrets were already known to Mrs. Stonehouse, who knew nothing;and to Mr. Stonehouse, who knew everything. Even Pearl had her ownideas, as was once shown in a confidence when they were alone inStephen's bedroom after helping her to finish her dressing, just asStephen herself had at a similar age helped her Uncle Gilbert. Aftersome coy leading up to the subject of pretty dresses, the childputting her little mouth to the other's ear whispered:'May I be your bridesmaid, Stephen?' The woman was taken aback; butshe had to speak at once, for the child's eyes were on her:'Of course you will, darling. But I--I may never be married.''You! You must! I know someone who will make you!' Stephen's heartbeat hard and rapidly. The child's talk, though sweet and dear, wasmore than embarrassing. With, however, the desire to play with fire,which is a part of the nature of women, she answered:'You have some queer ideas, little one, in that pretty knowledge-boxof yours.''Oh! he never told me. But I know it all the same! And you know ittoo, Stephen!' This was getting too close to be without danger; soshe tried to divert the thought from herself:'My darling, you may guess about other people, though I don't say youought; but you must not guess about me!''All right!' then she held up her arms to be lifted on the other'sknee and said:'I want to whisper to you!' Her voice and manner were so full offeeling that somehow the other was moved. She bent her head, andPearl taking her neck in her little palms, said:'I thought, oh! long ago, that I would marry him myself. But youknew him first . . . And he only saved me . . . But you saved him!' .. . And then she laid her head down on the throbbing bosom, andsobbed . . .And Stephen sobbed too.Before they left the room, Stephen said to her, very gravely, for theissue might be one of great concern:'Of course, Pearl dear, our secrets are all between ourselves!'Pearl crossed her two forefingers and kissed them. But she saidnothing; she had sworn! Stephen went on:'And, darling, you will remember too that one must never speak oreven think if they can help it about anyone's marrying anyone elsetill they say so themselves! What is it, dear, that you are smilingat?''I know, Stephen! I musn't take off the bandage till the Doctor saysso!'Stephen smiled and kissed her. Hand in hand, Pearl chatteringmerrily, they went down to the drawing-room.