Afterwards Part 5

"Look here, Cheniston." He spoke curtly, his eyes ablaze. "Life has given us both--me as well as you--a terrible jar. But you won't make things better by resenting what has happened. You have lost the woman you loved, but I have lost a good deal more. With the best intentions"--he smiled ironically at his own phrase--"I have ruined your life; and my own. I am ready to admit I owe you some reparation for the wrong I have quite innocently done you; and I am ready, also, to pay you any price in reason which you may ask, either now or in the future. But the price must be one which may decently be paid."

"I see." Cheniston spoke slowly. "I think, after all, we may shelve the question of payment between you and me. Personally I hope--you will forgive my frankness--that we may never be called upon to meet again.

You see"--his voice broke, but he cleared his throat angrily and went on--"I can't help remembering that if you had waited Miss Ryder would still be alive."

Anstice was stung to a last impulse of self-defence.

"If I had waited--and the rescuers had not come, it is possible death would have been a merciful alternative to Miss Ryder's fate," he said.

"I have tried to explain that what I did was done--as Miss Ryder would be the first to admit--for the best. But I see you are determined to look upon me as a criminal; and as I don't intend to excuse myself further, well, I will echo your hope that we may never meet again."

And without any further attempt at farewell Anstice turned on his heel and walked out of the room; leaving Bruce Cheniston staring after him with an expression of amazement not untinged with shame in his narrow blue eyes.

BOOK I

CHAPTER I

"If you please, sir, a telephone message has come for you from Cherry Orchard just now."

Anstice put down the paper he had been idly studying and looked at the maid.

"Cherry Orchard? That's the big house on the Littlefield Road, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir. It has just been reopened, cook tells me."

"Oh. And I am wanted there?"

"Yes, sir. At once, the message was."

"Very good. Tell Andrews to bring round the car immediately. And put dinner back a bit, Alice, please."

"Yes, sir." The trim maid hurried away, and Anstice rose to obey the summons, congratulating himself on the fact that the night was fine, and the Littlefield Road good going.

Ten minutes later he was on his way; and in due course arrived at his destination, a pretty old gabled house standing in a large and old-fashioned garden, from whose famous cherry trees the place derived its quaint name.

Six months earlier Anstice had bought a practice in the Midlands, on the death of its former owner; but this was the first time he had visited Cherry Orchard; and as he waited for his ring to be answered he remembered the maid's remark as to the recent reopening of the house with a slight feeling of curiosity as to its tenant.

He was not kept waiting long. An elderly manservant speedily appeared; and his face, which wore a worried expression, lightened as he saw Anstice standing on the steps.

"Thank G.o.d you've come, sir." The grat.i.tude was so obviously sincere that Anstice felt glad he had not delayed his coming. "If you'll kindly go upstairs, sir--the housekeeper is waiting for you, I believe."

He relieved Anstice of his hat and coat with hands which shook; and at the same moment a swarthy, foreign-looking woman hurried forward with unmistakable eagerness.

"You are the doctor, sir? Then will you come up at once? My mistress is upstairs, and the sooner you see her the better."

Without wasting time in questioning her, Anstice motioned to the speaker to lead the way; which she did accordingly, hurrying up the black oak staircase at a surprising pace; and giving Anstice no time to do more than glance at the artistic treasures which were in evidence on every side.

She led him a few steps down a broad gallery, lighted by large and finely-designed windows; and paused outside a door, turning to him with an expression of appeal--he could call it nothing else--in her small but intensely bright eyes.

"You'll be very gentle with the poor lady, sir? You won't--won't fl.u.s.ter her?" She broke off suddenly, appeared as though about to say something more, then closed her lips as though she had thought better of the impulse, and opening the door invited Anstice to enter.

Somehow her last words had given Anstice a queer, but possibly justifiable, suspicion that he was about to encounter a _malade imaginaire_; and just for a second he felt a spasm of irritation at the stress which had been laid on the urgent need for haste.

All such thoughts fled, however, as his eyes fell on the face of the patient he had come to see; for here was no neurotic invalid, no hysterical sufferer who craved sympathy for quite imaginary woes.

On the bed drawn up in front of one of the big cas.e.m.e.nt windows lay a young woman with closed eyes; and as he approached her side Anstice saw that it was not sleep but unconsciousness which claimed her at that moment.

"How long has she been like this?" He spoke sharply, one hand on the slender wrist.

"It's two hours since she was seized, sir." The woman's voice shook. "No sooner was my mistress in the house--she came home only to-day--than she fainted clean away. We brought her round, the maids and me, and she was better for a bit ... then up she would get to look after Miss Cherry, and off she went again. It's nearly half an hour ago ... and we got so anxious that Hagyard telephoned for you ... we thought it was the right thing to do."

"Quite the right thing." He was too intent on his patient to pay much attention to the woman's speech; but she was quite content to stand silent as he tried one means of restoration after another; and when, finally, his efforts were successful, both Anstice and the housekeeper breathed more freely.

"Your mistress ... her name, by the way...."

"Mrs. Carstairs, sir." She spoke with a tinge of reluctance, and even in the stress of the moment Anstice wondered why.

"Oh. Well, Mrs. Carstairs is coming round now, she will be herself in a moment or two. By the way, just go and fill a hot-water bottle, will you? It is chilly to-night, and Mrs. Carstairs will probably feel cold."

With a last look at her mistress the woman turned to obey; and Anstice moved back to the bed to find his patient's eyes open and fixed upon him with something of perplexity in their depths.

"Don't try to move just yet," he counselled her quickly. "You've had a bad faint, and must lie still for a little while. Do you feel better?"

"Much better, thank you." Her voice, though it sounded weak, was oddly deep in tone. "I suppose I fainted. Did they send for you?"

"Yes. Your servants were getting alarmed." He smiled. "But there is no need for alarm now. What you want is a long rest. You have been overtiring yourself, perhaps?"

A peculiar smile, which was mocking and yet sad, curved her lips for a moment. Then she said quietly:

"Perhaps I have overtired myself a little lately. But it was quite unavoidable."

"I see." Something about this speech puzzled Anstice, and for a moment he was rather at a loss to know what to say in reply.

She did not wait for him, however.

"Do you think I shall faint again? These faints are so unpleasant--really I don't think"--she paused, and when she resumed her voice sounded still deeper, with a true contralto note--"I don't think even death itself can be much more horrible. The sensation of falling, of sinking through the earth----"

She broke off, and he hastened to reply.

"I don't think you need antic.i.p.ate any further trouble to-night. I suppose you have had your heart sounded?"

Again she smiled; and once more he could have sworn there was mockery in her smile.