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CHAPTER VII.
TELLS HOW CLAIRE WENT TO THE PLAY; AND HOW SHE SAW THE GOLDEN CLASP.
Tom was dying. His depositions had been taken and signed with his failing hand; the surgeon had given his judgment, and my friend was lying upon his bed, face to face with the supreme struggle.
The knife had missed his heart by little more than an inch, but the inward bleeding was killing him and there was no hope. He knew it, and though the reason of that cowardly blow was a mystery to him, he asked few questions, but faced his fate with the old boyish pluck.
His eyes as they turned to mine were lit with the old boyish love.
Once only since his evidence was taken had his lips moved, and then to murmur _her_ name. I had sent for her: a short note with only the words "Tom is dying and wants to speak with you." So, while we waited, I sat holding my friend's hand and busy with my own black thoughts.
I knew that he had received the blow meant for me, and that the secret of this too, as well as that other a.s.sault in the gambling-den, hung on the Golden Clasp and the Great Ruby.
Whatever that secret was, the yellow woman knew of it, and held it beneath the glitter of her awful eyes. She it was that had directed the murderous knife in the hands of Simon Colliver. Bitterly I cursed the folly which had prompted my rash words in the theatre, and so sacrificed my friend. With what pa.s.sion, even in my despair, I thanked Heaven that the act which led to Colliver's mistake had been Tom's and not mine! Yet, what consolation was it? It was I, not he, that should be lying there. He had given his life for his friend--a friend who had already robbed him of his love. O false and traitorous friend!
In my humiliation I would have taken my hand from his, but a feeble pressure and a look of faint reproach restrained me. So he lay there and I sat beside him, and both counted the moments until Claire should come--or death.
A knock at the door outside. Tom heard it and in his eyes shone a light of ineffable joy. In answer to his look I dropped his hand and went to meet her.
"Claire, how can I thank you for this speed?"
"How did it happen?"
"Murdered!" said I. "Foully struck down last night as he left the theatre."
Her eyes looked for a moment as though they would have questioned me further, but she simply asked--
"Does he want to see me?"
"When he heard he was to die he asked for you. Claire, if you only knew how he longs to see you; had you only seen his eyes when he heard you come! You know why--"
She nodded gravely.
"I suppose," she said slowly, "we had better say nothing of--"
"Nothing," I answered; "it is better so. If there be any knowledge beyond the grave he will know all soon."
Claire was silent.
"Yes," she a.s.sented at length, "it is better so. Take me to him."
I drew back as Claire approached the bed, dreading to meet Tom's eyes; but I saw them welcome her in a flash of thankful rapture, then slowly close as though unable wholly to bear this glad vision.
Altogether lovely she was as she bent and lifted his nerveless hand, with the light of purest compa.s.sion on her face.
"You have come then," said the dying man. "G.o.d bless you for that!"
"I am come, and oh! I am so very, very sorry."
"I saw Jasper write and knew he had sent, but I hardly dared to hope.
I am--very weak--and am going--fast."
For answer, a tear of infinite pity dropped on the white hand.
"Don't weep--I can't bear to see you weeping. It is all for the best. I can see that I have had hopes and visions, but I should never have attained them--never. Now I shall not have to strive.
Better so--better so."
For a moment or two the lips moved inaudibly; then they spoke again--
"It was so good of you--to come; I was afraid--afraid--but you are good. You saved my play last night, but you cannot save--me."
A wan smile played over the white face and was gone.
"Better so, for I can speak now and be pardoned. Do you know why I sent for you? I wanted to tell something--before I died. Do not be angry--I shall be dead soon, and in the grave, they say, there is no knowledge. Clarissa! oh, pity me--pity me, if I speak!"
The eyes looked up imploringly and met their pardon.
"I have loved you--yes, loved you. Can you forgive? It need not distress--you--now. It was mad--mad--but I loved you. Jasper, come here."
I stepped to the bed.
"Tell her I loved her, and ask her--to forgive me. Tell her I knew it was hopeless. Tell her so, Jasper."
Powerless to meet those trustful eyes, weary with the anguish of my remorse, I stood there helpless.
"Jasper is too much--upset just now to speak. Never mind, he will tell you later. He is in love himself. I have never seen her, but I hope he may be happier than I. Forgive me for saying that. I am happy now--happy now.
"You do not know Jasper," continued the dying man after a pause; "but he saw you last night--and admired--how could he help it? I hope you will be friends--for my sake. Jasper is my only friend."
There was a grey shadow on his face now--the shadow of death.
Tom must have felt it draw near, for suddenly raising himself upon his elbow, he cried--
"Ah, I was selfish--I did not think. They are waiting at the theatre--go to them. You will act your best--for my sake.
Forget what I have said, if you cannot forgive."
"Oh, why will you think that?"
"You do forgive? Oh, G.o.d bless you, G.o.d bless you for it! Clarissa, if that be so, grant one thing more of your infinite mercy. Kiss me once--once only--on the lips. I shall die happier so. Will you--can you--do this?"
The film was gathering fast upon those eyes once so full of laughter; but through it they gazed in pa.s.sionate appeal. For answer, my love bent gravely over the bed and with her lips met his; then, still clasping his hand, sank on her knees beside the bed.
"Thank G.o.d! My love--oh, let me call you that--you cannot--help--my loving you. Do not pray--I am happy now and--they are waiting for you."
Slowly Claire arose to her feet and stood waiting for his last word--
"They are waiting--waiting. Good-bye, Jasper--old friend--and Clarissa--Clarissa--my love--they are waiting--I cannot come--Clar--"
Slowly Claire bent and once more touched his lips, then without a word pa.s.sed slowly out. As she went Death entered and found on its victim's face a changeless, rapturous smile.