The Doctor [114]
and thither about his luggage and giving himself not a moment for conversation till they were seated in the first-class apartment carriage that was to carry them to Craigraven. But they had hardly got settled in their places when the conversation, in spite of all Jack's efforts, dropped to silence.
"You have bad news for me," said Barney, looking Lady Ruthven steadily in the face. "Has anything happened?"
"No, Dr. Boyle," replied Lady Ruthven, a little more quickly than was her wont, "but--" and here she paused, shrinking from delivering the mortal stab, "but we are anxious about our dear Iola."
"Tell me the worst, Lady Ruthven," said Barney.
"That is all. We are very anxious. It is her lungs chiefly and her heart. But she is very bright and very hopeful. It is better she should be kept so."
Barney listened with face growing grey, his eyes looking out of their deep sockets with the piteous, mute appeal of an animal stricken to death. He moistened his lips and tried to speak, but, failing, kept his eyes fixed on Lady Ruthven's face as if seeking relief. Charrington turned his head away.
"We feel thankful for her great courage," said Lady Ruthven, in her sweet, calm voice, "and for her peace of mind."
At last Barney found his voice. "Does she suspect anything?" he asked hoarsely.
"I think she must, but she has said nothing. She has been eager all summer to get back to her home--to you--to those she loved. She will rejoice to see you."
Suddenly Barney dropped his face into his hands with a low, long moan. Jack looked out upon the fleeting landscape dimmed by the tears he dared not wipe away. A long silence followed while, drop by drop, Barney drank his cup to the bitter dregs.
"We try to think of the bright side," at length said Lady Ruthven gently.
Barney lifted his face from his hands, looked at her in dumb misery.
"There is the bright side," she continued, "the side of the immortal hope. We like to think of the better country. That is our real home. There, only, are our treasures safe." She was giving him time to get hold of himself after the first deadly stab. But Barney made no reply except to gravely bow. "It is, indeed, a better country," she added softly as if to herself, "the only place we immortals can call home." Then she rose. "Come, Jack," she said, "I think Dr. Boyle would like to be alone." Before she turned away to another section of the carriage, she offered him her hand with a grave, pitying smile.
Barney bowed reverently over her hand. "I am grateful to you," he said brokenly, "believe me." His face was contorted with the agony that filled his soul. A quick rush of tears rendered her speechless and in silence they turned away from him, and for the long hour that followed they left him with his grief.
When they came back they found him with face grave and steady, carrying the air of one who has fought his fight and has not been altogether beaten. And with that same steady face he reached the great door of Ruthven Hall.
"Jack, you will take Dr. Boyle to his room," said Lady Ruthven; "I shall see Iola and send for him." But just then her daughter came down the stairs. "Mamma," she said in a low, quick tone, "she wants him at once."
"Yes, dear, I know," replied her mother, "but it will be better that I--"
But there was a light cry, "Barney!" and, looking up, they all saw, standing at the head of the great staircase, a figure slight and frail, but radiant. It was Iola.
"Pardon me, Lady Ruthven," said Barney, and was off three steps at a time.
"Come, children." Swiftly Lady Ruthven motioned them into the library that opened off the hall, where they stood gazing at each other, awed and silent.
"Heaven help them!" at length gasped Jack.
"Let go my arm, Dr. Charrington," said Miss Ruthven. "You are hurting me."
"Your pardon, a thousand times. I didn't know. This is more than I can well stand."
"It will be well to leave them for a time, Dr. Charrington," said Lady Ruthven, with a quiet dignity that subdued all emotion
"You have bad news for me," said Barney, looking Lady Ruthven steadily in the face. "Has anything happened?"
"No, Dr. Boyle," replied Lady Ruthven, a little more quickly than was her wont, "but--" and here she paused, shrinking from delivering the mortal stab, "but we are anxious about our dear Iola."
"Tell me the worst, Lady Ruthven," said Barney.
"That is all. We are very anxious. It is her lungs chiefly and her heart. But she is very bright and very hopeful. It is better she should be kept so."
Barney listened with face growing grey, his eyes looking out of their deep sockets with the piteous, mute appeal of an animal stricken to death. He moistened his lips and tried to speak, but, failing, kept his eyes fixed on Lady Ruthven's face as if seeking relief. Charrington turned his head away.
"We feel thankful for her great courage," said Lady Ruthven, in her sweet, calm voice, "and for her peace of mind."
At last Barney found his voice. "Does she suspect anything?" he asked hoarsely.
"I think she must, but she has said nothing. She has been eager all summer to get back to her home--to you--to those she loved. She will rejoice to see you."
Suddenly Barney dropped his face into his hands with a low, long moan. Jack looked out upon the fleeting landscape dimmed by the tears he dared not wipe away. A long silence followed while, drop by drop, Barney drank his cup to the bitter dregs.
"We try to think of the bright side," at length said Lady Ruthven gently.
Barney lifted his face from his hands, looked at her in dumb misery.
"There is the bright side," she continued, "the side of the immortal hope. We like to think of the better country. That is our real home. There, only, are our treasures safe." She was giving him time to get hold of himself after the first deadly stab. But Barney made no reply except to gravely bow. "It is, indeed, a better country," she added softly as if to herself, "the only place we immortals can call home." Then she rose. "Come, Jack," she said, "I think Dr. Boyle would like to be alone." Before she turned away to another section of the carriage, she offered him her hand with a grave, pitying smile.
Barney bowed reverently over her hand. "I am grateful to you," he said brokenly, "believe me." His face was contorted with the agony that filled his soul. A quick rush of tears rendered her speechless and in silence they turned away from him, and for the long hour that followed they left him with his grief.
When they came back they found him with face grave and steady, carrying the air of one who has fought his fight and has not been altogether beaten. And with that same steady face he reached the great door of Ruthven Hall.
"Jack, you will take Dr. Boyle to his room," said Lady Ruthven; "I shall see Iola and send for him." But just then her daughter came down the stairs. "Mamma," she said in a low, quick tone, "she wants him at once."
"Yes, dear, I know," replied her mother, "but it will be better that I--"
But there was a light cry, "Barney!" and, looking up, they all saw, standing at the head of the great staircase, a figure slight and frail, but radiant. It was Iola.
"Pardon me, Lady Ruthven," said Barney, and was off three steps at a time.
"Come, children." Swiftly Lady Ruthven motioned them into the library that opened off the hall, where they stood gazing at each other, awed and silent.
"Heaven help them!" at length gasped Jack.
"Let go my arm, Dr. Charrington," said Miss Ruthven. "You are hurting me."
"Your pardon, a thousand times. I didn't know. This is more than I can well stand."
"It will be well to leave them for a time, Dr. Charrington," said Lady Ruthven, with a quiet dignity that subdued all emotion