Christina Part 14

"It is just like something entrancingly exciting in a melodrama," she reflected: "that lonely house, and the beautiful lady with the white face, and that silent valley." Remembering the silence in the valley, she shuddered a little, and wondered whether the lady of the unfathomable eyes ever minded the loneliness and silence; whether sometimes she was afraid--down there in the stillness of those sheltering woodlands.

"I don't suppose I shall ever know any more about her," the girl's thoughts ran on, "but I should like to see her again. I never saw anybody like her in my life before, and she looked so sad; I wish I could have helped her more." From this point her reflections pa.s.sed on to subsequent events of the day: to her own audacious stopping of the big motor; to the grey-eyed man whose failure to recognise her had given her just a tiny pang of regret; to the blue-eyed man, who had looked at her with an admiration to which she was quite unaccustomed.

The memory of it brought a little flush to her face, even now that she sat alone in the firelight, and brought with it, too, a stab of resentment.

"I don't think I quite like anybody to look at me like that," she thought; "and, after all, even if I am only a nurse, earning my own living--I--am still a woman." She drew up her head with a proud gesture characteristic of her, and then her reflections slipped away from the two men who had driven her to the doctor's house, and wandered on to the doctor himself.

"I like _that_ man," she murmured emphatically, lifting her foot to push a protruding coal between the bars; "he wouldn't ever look at any woman as if he didn't respect her, and a woman might put her whole trust in him; so she might in--that other!" Rupert's face rose again before her mental vision, and she wondered as she had wondered many times that afternoon and evening, what was the pain that had carved such deep lines in his face, and brought so haunting a look of misery into his eyes.

"His eyes seem as if he was looking all the time for something he has lost," she thought, repeating her former musings; "perhaps, if he is Lady Cicely's cousin, I may see him again some day. I wonder what his name is--besides Rupert? I only heard him called Rupert." She leant back in her chair, her book still upon her knee, her eyes seeing many pictures in the coals--pictures in which a man with a rugged face, and kind grey eyes, seemed to be continually walking beside a tall lady with a beautiful white face, and eyes of unfathomable sadness and mystery, until the pictures merged themselves into dreams, and Christina slept peacefully. A loud knocking at the door startled her into wakefulness, and jumping to her feet, she confronted Mrs. Nairne, who looked at her with injured amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Been asleep by the fire, missy, I suppose. I couldn't make you hear nohow, knock as I might. There's a gentleman in a motor-car at the door, wanting to speak to you all in a hurry."

"A gentleman--in a motor--wanting _me_?" Christina asked, feeling that she must still be in the world of dreams.

"Well, he said he wanted to speak to the young lady who was staying here, with the little girl," Mrs. Nairne answered, and Christina, a faint hope stirring at her heart that Lady Cicely's cousin might have come to ask her about Baba, went quickly to the farmhouse door, to be greeted by Dr. Fergusson, who awaited her with obvious impatience.

"I came to see if I could get some help from you," he said, with no other preamble. "I have been to the house in the valley, and things there are pretty bad."

"But--how can I help?" Christina asked.

"I want you to come back with me to the house, and stay there for the night, with the lady of whom you told me to-day."

"I could not do that," Christina answered decidedly; "it is out of the question. I am here in charge of a little child. I could not go away for the night, and leave her."

"Wouldn't she be safe with the woman of the house?" Fergusson asked imperiously; "she looked to me a very reliable body."

Although they were alone at the door, he and Christina spoke in low voices; perhaps some of the mystery of the lonely valley and shut-in house, lingered with them still.

"Mrs. Nairne is in every way reliable, but Lady Cicely, my little charge's mother, has trusted me so entirely, I should feel I was abusing her trust if I did what you ask."

"I am at my wits' end to know what to do," was the answer. "I don't profess to be able to understand the inwardness of all I saw at the house I have just left, but it is plain that there is some vital need for secrecy. I can't possibly send a woman from the village to these people, and yet they must have somebody for the night. I came to you, because I am sure you can hold your tongue."

"Certainly I can do that"; Christina laughed a little, and drew more closely round her the cloak she had s.n.a.t.c.hed from its peg as she came to the door, "and I would gladly--oh, most gladly, do anything I could to help that poor lady. But, my duty seems to lie here."

"I should only ask you to come for a few hours. I will undertake that you shall be back here before your little charge is ready for you in the morning. It is vitally necessary that someone should be with 'that poor lady,' as you rightly call her, and my thoughts flew at once to you."

"I wish I knew what was right to do," Christina said wistfully; and at her words, Dr. Fergusson sprang from his car and seized her hands in his.

"I will tell you," he said firmly; "it is right to come with me. I will explain to Mrs. Nairne as much of the circ.u.mstances as it is necessary she should know, and I have no doubt she will come to the rescue. Go and fetch whatever you will need for the night; it will be a night spent in sitting-up, not in bed; and I will settle with the good woman."

Swept off her feet by the masterfulness which brooked no resistance, Christina obediently did his bidding, and when she returned to the door, found Mrs. Nairne in close conversation with the doctor.

"There, missy, that'll be all right, never you fear," she said as Christina appeared; "the doctor, he've been telling me there's a poor lady in great trouble, and that you could comfort her by sitting up with her a bit. Why, I'll sleep with the little missy with all the pleasure in life, and you can feel as safe about her, as if you was here yourself."

When the doctor had handed her into the car, and they drove swiftly away, the girl felt as if she were merely a puppet, whose strings were being pulled by Fergusson's strong hands. She had a curious sense of helplessness, that was not wholly unpleasant. So dominating was the personality of the man who sat beside her, that she was convinced he was only doing what was right in whirling her away with him through the darkness; and his brown eyes were so steadfast, so reliable, that when their glance met hers, she felt safe. He spoke scarcely at all to her, until they had turned off the moorland into the steep lane, that led to the house amongst the woods. Then he said quietly, steering the car at a walking pace:

"I found an uncomfortable state of things in the house to which we are going, when I got there to-day."

"Was someone very ill?" Christina questioned; "the lady said 'a matter of life and death.'"

"It was certainly that," he answered grimly, "considering I was only just in time to save her from being murdered, by as violent a homicidal maniac as I ever saw."

"Oh!" Christina exclaimed with horror.

"At first, I couldn't get into the place at all. Then a servant came to the gate, and she seemed in a terrible state. No wonder! She took me into the house, and in one of the rooms I found the lady of whom you have been speaking, in the grip of a madwoman, lighting for her life.

My G.o.d! I was only just in time. It seems the woman had been ill, and had had paroxysms of what they thought was delirium. As a matter of fact it was acute mania; and, as I say, I was only just in time."

"What have you done with----" Christina broke off with a shudder, but Fergusson saw that her face was white.

"With the unfortunate madwoman? I have secured her for the time, and I mean to drive her over to-night to the nearest asylum. But I must take the servant with me, and that is why I want you. Your beautiful lady cannot be left alone."

"I thought it must have been a man who was ill," Christina said; "she certainly spoke of 'him' and 'he.'"

"I saw no man, only the madwoman and a servant."

"And why is there all this mystery?" Christina said, with bewilderment in her voice; "what makes so much secrecy necessary?"

"Ah! that I do not know," the doctor answered gravely. "I can't understand it myself, but it is quite obvious that for some reason the lady of the house is most anxious to keep her whereabouts hidden from the world. And--when one looks at her, one feels it is impossible to do anything but respect her wishes, and help her keep her secret--whatever it may be," he added under his breath.

"My beautiful lady has bewitched him, too," Christina reflected shrewdly; and, for the rest of the way, spent her time in silently speculating upon what lay before her.

The green door stood ajar now, and a lighted lantern had been placed on the ground just inside it. By its rather uncertain light, Fergusson led her across the garden and into the hall, where a wood fire was burning brightly. They did not, however, linger here, but, crossing it, ascended a wide staircase to the floor above, on which were several rooms. The door of one of these stood wide open, a stream of light from it flooded the landing, and the doctor, tapping gently on the door, entered, Christina following him half fearfully, dreading what she might see. But no dreadful sight met her gaze. She saw only a simply-furnished bedroom, and in the bed, propped up by pillows, and with her face turned anxiously towards the door, lay the beautiful woman, whose image had haunted the girl ever since the afternoon. She looked, if possible, even whiter than when she had accosted Christina in the lane, and her eyes seemed darker and more heavily pencilled with shadows; but she greeted her visitors with a smile, and held out her hand in welcome.

"How good of you to come," she said, grasping the girl's hand in a nervous, clinging clasp; "how very good of you. I think I should really have been quite safe just for a few hours, but the doctor would not let me stay here----"

"Alone?" Fergusson exclaimed, when her sentence remained unfinished; "certainly not. Now, see here, Miss----" he paused and looked at Christina.

"It sounds very absurd to say so, but I don't know your name," he added.

"Moore," she answered.

"Well, Miss Moore, all I want you to do is to sit with this lady, see that she takes some food through the night, and don't allow her to worry about anything."

A faint laugh broke from the woman in the bed.

"What an easy order to give, and what a hard one to carry out," she said; "but--I will promise--to try and keep my mind at rest--as far as possible," she added under her breath; "and you are taking poor Marion where she will be safe and well cared for?"

"I am taking her where she will do no one any harm," Fergusson answered grimly, "and I will bring your servant back as soon as I can. She is a treasure, that servant of yours."

"I think she is worth her weight in gold," was the quiet answer; "she is more than servant; she is a friend--a faithful, loyal friend."

"You are fortunate to have found such an one," Fergusson smiled, "and now I must go and get that poor soul away; and Miss Moore will keep you company, and take care of you, until I bring your servant back."

As he spoke the last words he was gone, closing the door softly behind him, and carrying with him some of the sense of health-giving strength and vitality, with which his very presence seemed to fill the room.

Unusual as was the position in which she found herself, Christina had sufficient perception to see that the nerves of the woman she had come to tend, were already stretched to breaking point, and that a normal manner, and matter-of-fact way of taking the situation for granted, would do more than anything else to relieve the tension.

She took off her hat and cloak, therefore, with quiet deliberation, unrolled the dressing-gown she had brought with her, and was proceeding to hang it over a chair before the fire, when her patient said suddenly: