The Yellow House Part 13

"Do you know who it was?" she whispered.

I shook my head.

"I am not sure. It was a stranger; was it not?"

She shuddered.

"It was either a stranger, or my guest, Mr. Berdenstein. I only caught a glimpse of his face for a moment, and I could not be sure. He looked so horrible."

She paused, and suddenly discovered that I was half fainting. "Come out into the air," she whispered. I got up and went out with her just in time.

They had carried him into a distant corner of the churchyard. My father, when he saw us standing together in a little group, came slowly over as though to check our further advance. His face was haggard and drawn. He seemed to walk with difficulty, and underneath his surplice I could see that one hand was pressed to his side.

"The man is dead," he said, quietly. "There must have been an accident or a fight. No one seems to know where he came from."

"I wonder," remarked the Bishop, thoughtfully, "why he should have dragged himself up to the church in such a plight. One of those cottages or the Vicarage would have been nearer."

"Perhaps," my father answered, gravely, "he was struggling for sanctuary."

And the Bishop held up his right hand towards the sky with a solemn gesture.

"G.o.d grant that he may have found it," he prayed.

CHAPTER X

CANON OF BELCHESTER

There followed for me after these solemn words of the Bishop a phantasmagoria of human faces, and sky, and tree-tops, and a singing in my ears, now loud, now soft, in which all other sounds and movements seemed blended. I have an indistinct recollection of the walk home, and of finding myself in my own room. Then memory gradually faded away from me. Blank unconsciousness enveloped me like a cloud. The next thing I remember is waking up one morning as though after a terrible dream, a night of nightmares, and finding the room half full of medicine bottles. I looked around me faintly curious, inexpressibly bewildered; I suddenly realized that I had been ill.

I was not alone. Alice was standing over me, her round, honest little face beaming with pleasure and her underlip quivering.

"You are better," she said, softly. "I am so glad."

"How long have I been here?" I asked.

She sat down by my side.

"A week to-morrow! Just think of it."

I closed my eyes. The little scene in the churchyard had suddenly risen up again before my eyes. My head commenced to swim. I asked no more questions.

The next morning I was stronger. I sat up in bed and looked around. The first thing which I noticed was that the room was full of the most beautiful flowers; I stooped over a vase of roses and smelt them. The air was almost faint with their delicious perfume.

"Where did they all come from?" I asked Alice.

She laughed in rather an odd manner.

"From whom do you suppose?" she asked.

"How should I know?" I protested, faintly. "I have not an idea."

"From the _bete noir_," she exclaimed, plucking off one of the yellow blossoms and placing it upon my pillow.

I still looked blankly at her. She laughed.

"Can't you really guess?" she asked.

I shook my head. I really had no idea.

"From Mr. Deville. He has called nearly every day to ask after you."

It was surprising enough, but I said very little. I suppose I was not considered strong enough then to hear any news of importance; but several days later, when I was sitting up, Alice looked up from the book she was reading aloud to me and told me something which I know she must have had very hard work to have kept to herself for so long.

"Father is to be made a canon, Kate," she said, triumphantly. I looked up at her bewildered. I had forgotten all about Lady Naselton's plans on his behalf. The latter part of this terrible Sunday had haunted me like a nightmare, usurping all my thoughts. There had been little room for other memories.

"A canon!" I repeated, feebly. "Do you mean it, Alice?"

She nodded.

"The Bishop came here from Lady Naselton's. He said a lot of nice things to father about his sermon on--that Sunday night--you remember."

"It was a wonderful sermon," I whispered.

"So the Bishop thinks; so every one thinks," Alice declared, with enthusiasm. "I shall never forget how I felt. And he had no notes, or anything."

"It was the most realistic sermon I ever heard," I said, with a little shudder. "It was like a scene from a play. It was wonderful."

Alice looked up at me quickly. Doubtless my voice had betrayed some agitation. She laid her hand upon my arm.

"Don't think about it this evening," she begged. "I quite forgot father especially forbade my speaking of it to you. It must have been terrible for you to have been so near it all. I can't imagine what I should have done. I could see nothing from the organ screen, you know."

I leaned over and looked at her.

"Alice, I do not want to talk about it, but I want to know how it ended. You must tell me that."

She hesitated for a moment.

"He was quite dead," she said, slowly. "There was an inquest, and they decided that he must have been attacked somewhere in the wood between the downs and Yellow House. There were all the marks of a struggle within a few hundred yards of the road."

"Did they bring in a verdict of murder?" I asked.

Alice nodded.

"Yes," she a.s.sented, gravely. "He was murdered. It seems that he was lately come from abroad. He had been staying at Lady Naselton's, but she knew scarcely anything about him. He was kind to her son abroad. I think they just know his name and that was all. They had no idea where to send to or if he had any near relatives alive. It was all very odd."