Part 57

“Oh, poor fellow!” thought Lexy. “Poor lonely fellow! It’s such a wonderful thing for him to find his sister--some one of his own. I only hope she’s as nice as she looks.”

This thought caused her to turn toward her hostess again. She _was_ beautiful, and in a gentle and gracious fashion, and yet--

“I don’t know,” thought Lexy. “There’s something--she doesn’t look ill--perhaps she’s just lackadaisical; but certainly she’s not simple and easy to understand. She must know about Caroline Enderby. The thing is, would she help me, or--”

Or would Mrs. Quelton also be her enemy? Lost in her own thought, Lexy sat silent. She had, indeed, certain grave faults in social deportment. The head mistress of the finishing school she had attended had often said to her:

“Alexandra, it is absolutely inexcusable to give way to moods in the company of other people!”

In theory Lexy admitted that this was true, but it made no difference. If she didn’t feel inclined to talk, she didn’t talk. It was so this afternoon. She merely answered when she was spoken to--which was not often, for Dr. Quelton was asking his brother-in-law questions about India, and Mrs. Quelton seemed no more desirous to talk than Lexy was. What is more, Lexy felt certain that the doctor’s wife was not listening to the talk between the two men, but, like herself, was thinking her own thoughts.

The parlor maid wheeled the tea cart in, and Mrs. Quelton roused herself to pour the tea and to make polite inquiries, in her plaintive tone, as to what her guests wanted in the way of cream and sugar. The maid vanished again, and Dr. Quelton passed about the cups and plates.

“It’s China tea,” he observed. “I import it myself. It has quite a distinctive flavor, I think.”

Captain Grey praised it, and Lexy herself found it very agreeable. She sipped it, staring into the fire, glad to be let alone. Behind her she could hear Captain Grey talking about the Ceylon tea plantations. His voice sounded so pathetic!

“Another cup, Miss Moran?” asked Mrs. Quelton.

“Yes, thank you,” answered Lexy, and the doctor brought it to her.

Poor Captain Grey and his precious, new-found sister! The sound of his voice brought tears to her eyes.

“But this is idiotic!” she thought, annoyed and surprised.

Still the tears welled up. She gulped down the rest of her tea hastily, hoping that it would steady her, but it did not help at all. Sobs rose in her throat, and an immense and formless sorrow came over her.

“This has got to stop!” she thought, in alarm. “I can’t be such a chump!”

She turned to Mrs. Quelton.

“Are you going to grow any--” she began, but her voice was so unsteady that she had to stop for a moment. “Any flowers in--in your--g-garden?”

The question ended in a loud and unmistakable sob. They all turned to look at her, startled and anxious.

She made a desperate effort to regain control of herself.

“S-snapdragon,” she said. “So--so p-pretty!”

Then, suddenly, all her defenses gave way. The teacup fell from her hand and was shattered on the floor, and, burying her head in her arms, she cried as she had never cried in her life.

Mrs. Quelton stood beside her, one hand resting on Lexy’s shoulder. Captain Grey was bending over her, profoundly disturbed. She tried to speak, but she could not.

“Miss Moran!” said Dr. Quelton solicitously. “Will you allow me to give you a mild sedative?”

“No!” she gasped. “No--I want to go home!”

“I’ll telephone for the taxi,” suggested Captain Grey. “He wasn’t coming back until half past five.”

“Unfortunately we have no telephone,” said the doctor; “but I’ll drive Miss Moran home.”

“No! I want to walk.”

“Not in this rain,” the doctor protested, “and in your overwrought condition.”

“I must!” She got up, the tears still streaming down her cheeks. “I must!” she said wildly. “Let me go! Please let me go!”

The doctor turned to Captain Grey. In the midst of her unutterable misery and confusion, Lexy still heard and understood what he was saying.

“In a case of hysteria--better to humor her--the exercise and the fresh air may help her.”

The doctor’s wife helped Lexy with her hat and coat. She was very gentle, very kind, and genuinely concerned for her unhappy little guest. Lexy remembered afterward that Mrs. Quelton kissed her; but at the moment nothing mattered except to get away, to get out of that house into the fresh air.

Without one backward glance she set off at a furious pace, splashing through the puddles, almost running. Captain Grey kept easily by her side with his long, lithe stride. Now and then he spoke to her, but she could not trust herself to answer just yet. The storm within her was subsiding. From time to time a sob broke from her, but the tears had stopped.

And now she was beginning to think.

Twilight had come early on this rainy day, and it was almost dark before they reached the end of the lane. Lexy slackened her pace. Then, as they came to the corner of the highway, she stopped and laid her hand on her companion’s sleeve.

“Captain Grey!” she said.

He looked down at her, but it was too dark to see what expression there was on her pale face. He was vastly relieved, however, by the steadiness of her voice.

“Captain Grey!” she said again. “If I told you something--something very important--would you believe me?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he answered hastily. “Of course, I would always believe you; but I wish you wouldn’t try to talk about anything important just now, you know. Let’s wait a bit, eh?”

Lexy smiled to herself in the dark--a smile of extraordinary bitterness. He wouldn’t believe her if she told him about Caroline. He would think she was hysterical. She saw quite plainly that by this strange outburst she had lost his confidence.

She could in no way explain her sudden breaking down. Such a thing had never happened to her before. She could not understand it, but she was in no doubt about the unfortunate consequences of it. She was discredited.

XIV

Lexy sat on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped loosely before her, her bright head bent, her eyes fixed somberly upon nothing; and she could see nothing--not one step of the way that lay ahead of her. She could not think what she ought to do next. For the first time in her life, she had a feeling of utter confusion and dismay.

“It’s because I’m so tired,” she said to herself. “I’ve never been really tired out before.”

But that in itself was a cause for alarm. Why should she feel like this, so exhausted and depressed? Horrible thoughts came to her. Dr. Quelton had called her nervous, high-strung, hysterical. Was that because he had seen in her something which she herself had never suspected? Was she hysterical? Mrs. Enderby had laughed at her. Mr. Houseman had gone away, satisfied with his own solution. Captain Grey, chivalrous and kindly as he was, had obviously lost interest in her affairs. Nobody believed in her. Was it because every one could see--

She remembered the intolerable humiliation of the day before, her wild outburst of tears in the Queltons’ house. Even in her childhood she had never done such a thing before.

“What does it mean?” she asked herself in terror. “What is the matter with me? Is this whole thing just a delusion? I came here to find Caroline, and I thought--I thought I did see her. Am I mad?”

That was the awful thing that had lain in ambush in her mind ever since yesterday, that had haunted her restless sleep all night. She had not admitted it, but it had been there every minute. All her actions, all her words, to-day, had the one object of showing Mrs. Royce and Captain Grey how entirely normal and sensible she was.

“That’s what they always do!” she whispered with dry lips.

All day, hiding her terror and weakness, talking to Mrs. Royce, sitting at the lunch table and talking and laughing with Captain Grey, trying to make them believe her quite cheerful and untroubled--and all the time perhaps they knew. Perhaps they were humoring her!

She sprang up and went over to the window. The sun was beginning to sink in a tranquil sky. It had been a beautiful day, but Lexy felt too weary and listless to go out. She remembered now that both Captain Grey and the landlady had urged her to do so, that they had both said it would do her good. Then they must have noted that something was wrong with her. What did they think it was? Did she look--

She crossed the room and stood before the mirror. The rays of the setting sun fell upon her hair, turning it to copper and gold. It seemed to her to shine with a strange light about her pallid little face. Her eyes seemed enormous, somber, and terrible.

She covered her face with her hands and flung herself on the bed, sick and desperate. She could not see any one, could not speak to any one. When a knock came at her door, she thrust her fingers into her ears and lay there, with her eyes shut tight, trembling from head to foot; but the knocking went on until she could endure it no longer.

“Yes?” she said, sitting up.

“Supper’s all on the table!” said Mrs. Royce’s cheerful voice.

“I don’t want any supper to-night, thank you,” replied Lexy.

Mrs. Royce expostulated and argued for a time, but she could not persuade Lexy even to unlock the door; and at last, with a worried sigh, she went downstairs again.

The room was quite dark now, and the wind blowing in through the open window felt chill; but Lexy was too tired to close the window or light the gas. She was not drowsy. She lay stretched out, limp, overpowered with fatigue, but wide awake, and with a curious certainty that she was waiting for something.

There was another knock at the door, and this time Captain Grey’s voice spoke.

“I say, Miss Moran!” he said anxiously. “You’re not ill, are you?”

“No!” she answered, with a trace of irritability. “I’m just tired.”

“But don’t you think you ought to eat something, you know? Or a cup of tea?”

“No!” she cried, still more impatiently. “I can’t. I want to rest.”

“Can you open the door for half a moment?” he asked. “I’ve some roses here that my sister sent to you. She wanted me to say--”

The door opened with startling suddenness. Lexy appeared, and took the roses out of his hand.

“Thank you! Good night!” she said, and was gone again before he quite realized what was happening.

Then he heard the key turn in the lock, and, bewildered and very uneasy, he went away.

Lexy flung the roses down on the table, not even troubling to put them into water.

“Anything to get rid of him!” she said to herself. “I want to be let alone!”

She lay down on the bed again, pulling a blanket over herself. Downstairs she could hear Mrs. Royce moving about in the kitchen, and Captain Grey’s singularly agreeable voice talking to the landlady. It seemed to her that they were in a different world, and that she was shut outside, in a black and terrible solitude.

“If I can only sleep!” she thought. “Perhaps, in the morning--”

She was beginning to feel a little drowsy now. How heavenly it would be to sleep, even for a little while! To sleep and to forget!

The wind was blowing through the dark little room, bringing to her the perfume of the roses--a wonderful fragrance. It was wonderful, but almost too strong. It was too strong. It troubled her.

“I’ll put them out on the window sill,” she murmured. “It’s such a queer scent!”

But she was too tired, too unspeakably tired. She didn’t seem able to get up, or even to move. She sighed faintly, and closed her eyes. The wind blew, strong and steady, heavy with that sweet and subtle odor.

* * * * *

“Look out!” cried Mr. Houseman. “She’s going about!”

Lexy laughed, and ducked down into the cockpit while the boom swung over. The little sailboat was flying over the sunny water like a bird. There was not a cloud in the pure bright sky, not a shadow in her joyous heart.

“I am so glad you came!” she said.

“Of course I came,” he answered. “I had to swim all the way from India.”

“Mercy!” cried Lexy. “That must have been dreadful! But why?”

Mr. Houseman leaned forward and whispered solemnly:

“There was a tempest in a teapot.”

This frightened her.

“Do you think there’s going to be another one?” she whispered back.

“Sure to be!” said he. “Don’t you see how dark it’s getting?”

It was getting very dark. Lexy couldn’t see his face now.

“Hold my hand!” he shouted, and she reached out for it; but she couldn’t find him at all.

“Mr. Houseman!” she cried.

There was no answer. She stared about her, numb with terror. What was it that rustled like that? What were these black, tall things that were standing motionless about her on every side?

“I’ve been dreaming,” she said to herself. “I’m in my own room, of course. If I go just a few steps, I’ll touch the wall. I’m awake now--only it’s so dark!”

And what was it that rustled like that--like leaves in the wind? What were these black, still forms about her? Trees? No--they couldn’t be trees.

In a wild panic she moved forward. Her outstretched hand touched something, and she screamed. The scream seemed to run along through the dark, leaping and rolling over the ground like a terrified animal. She tried to run after it, stumbling and panting, until her shoulder struck violently against something, and she stopped.

And into her sick and shuddering mind her old sturdy courage began to return. She tried to breathe quietly. She struggled desperately against the awful weakness that urged her to sink down on the ground and cover her eyes.

“No!” she said aloud. “I won’t! I’m here! I’m alive! I will understand! I will see!”

She was able now to draw a deep breath, and the horrible fluttering of her heart grew less. She stood motionless, waiting. It was coming back to her, that immortal, unconquerable spirit of hers. The anguish and the strange fear were passing.

“I’m here,” she said. “I’m in a wood somewhere. These are trees. What I hear are only the leaves in the wind. I don’t know where it is, or how I got here; but I’m alive and well. I can walk. I can get out of it.”

She moved forward again, quietly and deliberately. Her eyes were more accustomed to the darkness now, and she made her way through the trees, looking always ahead, never once behind her.

“The wood must end somewhere,” she said. “The morning will have to come some time. All I have to do is to go on.”

Patter, patter, patter, like little feet running behind her.

“Only the leaves on the trees,” said Lexy. “All I have to do is to go on.”

And she went on. Sometimes a wild desire to run swept over her, but she would not hasten her steps, and she would not look behind. The primeval terror of the forest pressed upon her, but she cast it away. Alone, lost, in darkness and solitude, she kept her hold upon the one thing that mattered--the honor and dignity of her own soul.

“I’m not afraid,” she said.

And then she saw a light. At first she thought it was the moon, but it hung too low, and it was too brilliant. Even then she would not run. She went on steadily toward it. In a few minutes she stepped out of the woodland upon a road--a hard, asphalt road with lights along it. It was quite empty, it was unfamiliar to her, but she would have gone down on her knees and kissed the dust of it. It was a road, and all roads lead home.

XV

There were no stars and no moon, for the sky was filled with wild black clouds flying before the wind. Lexy could not guess at the time. She had no idea where she was, but it didn’t matter. The morning would come some time, and the road would lead somewhere.

“It’s better here,” she said to herself. “I’d far, far rather be here, wherever it is, than shut up in that room with the thoughts I had!”

Those thoughts, those fears, had utterly gone from her now, but the memory of them was horrible. She shuddered at the memory of the hours she had spent locked in her room, with that monstrous dread of madness in her heart. Thank God, it had passed now! She walked along the interminable empty road, her old self again, but graver and sterner than she had ever been before in her life.

“I’ve got to understand all this,” she said to herself. “I’ve got to know what’s been the matter with me. That breakdown at the Queltons’, that awful time yesterday afternoon, and this! I suppose I’ve been walking in my sleep. I never did before. Something’s gone wrong with my nerves, terribly wrong; and I’ve got to find out why.”

She quickened her pace a little, because a trace of the old panic fear had stirred in her.

“It’s over!” she thought. “I’ll never imagine such a thing again; but I wonder if I’ll ever feel quite sure of myself again!”

For all her valiant efforts, tears came into her eyes. She had always been so proudly and honestly sure of herself, she had always trusted herself, and now--now she knew how weak, how untrustworthy she could be. Now she would always have that knowledge, and would fear that the weakness might come again.

“I don’t know whether I really did see Caroline. I can’t feel certain of anything. Perhaps I ought to give up all this and go away and rest; only I’ve no place to go. There isn’t any one I can tell.”

She straightened her shoulders and looked up at the vast, dark sky, where black clouds ran before a wind that snapped at their heels like a wolf; and the sight assuaged her. This world that lay under the open sky--the woods, the hills, and above all, the sea--was her world. It belonged to her equally with all God’s creatures. She had her part in it and her place. There was no one to whom she could turn for comfort, her faith in herself was cruelly shaken, and yet somehow she was not forsaken and helpless. Some one was coming. It was dark, but the light was coming!

She went on, her brisk footsteps ringing out clearly in the silence. The road was bordered on both sides by woods, where the leaves whispered, and there was no sign anywhere of another human being; but the road must lead somewhere. It began to go steeply uphill, and she became aware for the first time that she was very tired and very hungry, and that one of her shoes was worn through; but she had her precious money in the bag around her neck, and, if she kept on going, she couldn’t help reaching some place where she could get food and rest.

“At the top of the hill I’ll be able to see better,” she thought.

It was a long, long hill, and the stones began to hurt her foot in the worn shoe; but she got to the top, and then below her she saw the lights of a railway station.

She went down the hill at a lively trot, and it was as if she had come into a different world. Dogs barked somewhere not far off, and she passed a barn standing black against the sky. It was a human world, where people lived.

When she reached the platform, the door of the waiting room was locked, but inside she could see a light burning dimly in the ticket booth, and a clock. Half past one! With a sigh of relief, she sat down on the edge of the platform. She wouldn’t in the least mind sitting here until morning, in a place where there were lights and a clock, and she could hear a dog barking. She took off her shoe and rubbed her bruised foot, and sighed again with great content. In four hours or so somebody would come, and then she would find out where she was, and how to get back to Mrs. Royce, and Mrs. Royce’s comfortable breakfast--coffee, ham and eggs, and hot muffins.

She started up, and hastily put on her shoe again, for in the distance she heard the sound of a motor. She told herself that it would be the height of folly to stop an unknown car in this solitary place, for there were evil men abroad in the world; but there were a great many more honest ones, and if she could only get back to Mrs. Royce’s now!

She crossed the road and stood behind a big tree. The purr of the motor was growing louder and louder, filling the whole earth. Her heart beat fast, she kept her eyes upon the road, excited, but not sure what she meant to do.

It was a taxi. She sprang out into the road and waved her arms.

“Taxi!” she shouted joyously.

The car stopped with a jolt, and the driver jumped out.

“Now, then! What’s up?” he demanded suspiciously. From a safe distance, the light of an electric torch was flashed in her face. “Well, I’ll be gosh-darned!” said he. “Ain’t you the boarder up to Mrs. Royce’s?”

“Yes! I am! I am!” cried Lexy, overwhelmed with delight. “Can you take me there?”

“I can,” he replied; “but what on earth are you doing out here?”

“I got lost,” said Lexy. “Where is this, anyhow?”

“Wyngate station,” said he. “I’ll be gosh-darned! I never! Lost?”

“Yes,” said Lexy. “Aren’t you the driver who took me up the day I came here?”

“That’s me--only taxi in Wyngate. Took you out to the Queltons’, too. Hop in, miss!”

His engine had stalled, and he set to work to crank it, while Lexy stood beside him.

“Drive awfully fast, will you?” she asked.

He was too busy to answer for a moment. Then, when his engine was running again, he straightened up and looked at her.

“No, ma’am!” he said firmly. “No more of that for me! Not after what happened a while ago. No, ma’am! I had my lesson!”

“An accident?” inquired Lexy politely.

“Well,” he said slowly, “I s’pose it was; but the more I think it over, the more I dunno!”

In the brightness cast by the headlights, Lexy could see his face very well, and the look on it gave her a strange little thrill of fear. It was not a handsome or intelligent face, but it was a very honest one, and she saw, written plain upon it, a very honest doubt and dismay. Like herself, he wasn’t sure.