Anthony Lyveden Part 55

Not daring, for fear of thieves, to leave the car upon the highway, he drove her gently on to the wasted track. Even then he was not comfortable, for she could be seen from the road. After a moment's hesitation, he decided to risk it. He could not drive to the spot, for from here, for a furlong or so, the road was in ribbons. They seemed to have been hauling timber. The only thing to do was to be as quick as he could and hope for the best. Going fast, he should be back again in twenty minutes....

There had blown a gale in the night, and Every was not surprised to find one of the tall dark pillars of the gigantic corridor fallen across the lean brown road. It was his haste in surmounting this obstacle that was responsible for the simple but painful fracture of his left leg. The trunk was slippery, and he had jumped untimely to save a fall. Two stout boughs had been waiting, and the rest was easy....

Now, Peter Every was, as we know, no coward; but when, lying there, he reflected that, thanks to his efforts, the estate was now deserted, he became extremely uneasy. And presently, when he remembered Miss Strongi'th'arm's words, he broke into a cold sweat.

'If you get safe out of her to-day, I shouldn't come back--_if you can help it_.'

"I'm told," said Anthony weakly, "that I'm at Bell Hammer."

Lady Touchstone smiled and nodded.

"That's right," she said gently. "And Valerie should be here to welcome you, but she's asleep. So you must make shift with me."

The truth was, Valerie French had broken down. The strain of waiting and watching for the hour for which she longed, yet dreaded, had proved too much. Only the day before she had fainted suddenly, and, honestly glad of an excuse, the local doctor had ordered her to bed forthwith.

Valerie had obeyed dumbly. She knew that she had come to the end of her tether, and so to that of her wit; and since, to deal at all hopefully with Anthony's return to consciousness, her understanding must be on tiptoe, she knew that she was better away. If the change was to come before she was fit for duty, it could not be helped. In her present condition she was, she felt, worse than useless.

Two hours later Anthony had tried to sit up, failed, looked dazedly about him, and when the fresh-faced nurse stole to his side, asked first for some water and then, shakily, to be told where he was. He had promised, in return for the answer, to ask no more questions, but to go quietly to sleep. This promise he had immediately broken by asking anxiously for news of his dog. Learning that Patch was below, and well and happy, he had spoken no more. After eighteen hours he had awaked, greatly refreshed, to find himself the cynosure of three pairs of eyes. These were all kindly and full of cheer. Two pairs were contributed respectively by the nurse and Lady Touchstone, while the third was set in the face of an overgrown cherub, who smelt agreeably of Harris tweed and was gently furbishing his _pince-nez_ with an enormous handkerchief.

"This," continued Lady Touchstone, "is Dr. Gilpin." The cherub grinned rea.s.suringly. "He's extremely pleased with you, and, when you're better, I think you'll return the compliment."

"I've been ill," said the patient stupidly.

The cherub nodded.

"Gave us quite a turn once or twice," he said, smiling. "But you're all right now. And if you'll promise to obey orders, I'll have you out of bed in a fortnight."

Anthony's face fell. Then--

"I'm in your hands, sir," he said. "And I'm very, very grateful for all you've done." His eyes turned to Lady Touchstone. "And you. I don't understand anything yet," he added plaintively.

"Good," said the doctor. "Now we know where we are." He took out his watch. "If you would like it, you and your hostess can have a little chat--for ten minutes only--just to clear matters up. Then Nurse Ford will take over."

"Please," said Anthony.

A moment later the two were alone.

"I don't know how I come to be here," said the patient slowly, "but I'm afraid it must have been a terrible inconvenience and--and expense.

You know I've no money."

Subduing an inclination to burst into tears--

"On the contrary," said Lady Touchstone, "you're quite respectably off.

Since you've been ill, you've come into money--more than enough to pay for everything. So don't let that worry you."

She felt that it was not the moment to tell him that he was virtually a millionaire.

For a moment the man did not speak. Then--

"How did I get here?" he said.

"You may well ask," was the reply. "If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it possible for George Alison to lift a man of your inches and carry him single-handed right from the front door. I know he rowed for Cambridge, but, all the same, it was the act of a fool. And I told him so. Of course, he only grinned. You know that inane, irresistible grin of his when he's done something he knows is----"

"George Alison?" said Anthony. "George Alison? How on earth----" He stopped short and started up on an elbow. "What month is it?"

"April," said Lady Touchstone. "And now lie down again, there's a dear boy.... And why shouldn't Alison have----"

"But if it's April---- _Good G.o.d!_" he cried hoa.r.s.ely, raising a trembling hand. "_D'you mean to say I've lain here in this house for six months?_"

The woman's heart leaped into her mouth.

"And why not?" she said quietly. "I know a case of a man who lay unconscious for over two years--the result of a fall hunting. And when he came to----"

She stopped to peer at the patient.

Then she rang for the nurse---instantly.

Anthony had fainted.

Thus fell that formidable position upon whose delicate reduction all the science of physic, the love of women, the wisdom of friends, had been feverishly concentrated by day and night for nearly three weeks.

Chance and a woman's instinct had done the trick. As by a miracle the hopeless had come to pa.s.s. The helm had been put hard over, and the craft had answered as sweetly as any swish-tailed circus nag. Gramarye and all her works, if not forgotten, had in the twinkling of an eye become the fabric of a dream--mere relics of a fantastic age for a sane mind to marvel at.

For two or three days after the momentous interview Anthony said very little. When he had again seen Lady Touchstone, and the two--blind leading the blind--had satisfactorily fixed the very date of his collapse, George Alison was sent for. Carefully schooled, the latter spent a fruitful five minutes by the sick man's side. Upon the third day came Valerie....

The girl was exalted. Grat.i.tude had set the crown upon the glory of her array. No one had ever seen her look so beautiful. Out of the furnace the fine gold had come refined, dazzling.

My gross pen cannot picture her.

The dark l.u.s.tre of her hair, the exquisite curve of her lips, her pride of carriage, were things for sonnets. Her small firm hands, the white column of her neck, the colour springing in her cheeks, made three sweet wonders. The style of her was superb. Tall, straight, clean-limbed, her figure remembered graces of a younger age. The simple flowered-silk dress looked as though all who put it on must go in elegance. Silk and satin covered her precious feet. A nosegay of violets, brooched to her gown, echoed the hue, but not the magic of her eyes. Had the poor flowers been blowing still upon their mother bank, all wet with dew, and had a star stooped to prove how sweet they smelled, then, sirs, they should have rendered more faithfully my lady's eyes.

Anthony had wondered when she would come....

A breath of perfume, a swift whisper, the rustle of silk--and there was Valerie by his side.

"Oh, Valerie!"

Miss French fell upon her knees.

Very gently Lyveden put her hand to his lips. Then he turned away his head and began to cry.

With a bursting heart, Valerie almost gathered him in her arms.

"D'you love me, Anthony?"

By way of answer he just clung to her. At length--