He was interrupted by a soft knock at the door. Presently the door opened, and the nurse put in her head, with an alarmed expression of face. "Come, come!" said she; "quickly! both of you!" and withdrew.
Frank stopped, and motioned Barbara to pass before him.
"Oh, no!" she exclaimed wildly, clasping her hands and looking piteously into his face; "not into the presence of Death!--we cannot go into the presence of Death with these wild words on our lips, this wicked rage at our hearts! Frank, Frank, my darling! fancy if either of us were summoned while feeling so to each other. It is a horrible madness, this; a wild inexplicable torture; but let it end--oh, let it end! I will pray for forgiveness; I will be humble; I will do all you wish! Oh, Frank, Frank, take me once more to yourself!"
His strong arms are round her once again; once more her head is pillowed on his breast; while between his sobs he says, "Forgive you, my darling! Oh, ought not I also to implore your forgiveness!"
[CHAPTER XL.]
GOING HOME.
The room lay in deep shadow, the lamp having been moved behind the screen. On its handsome bracket the Louis-Quatorze ormolu clock ticked solemnly away, registering the death of each minute audibly, and indefinably forcing itself upon the attention of those sitting by, in connexion with the rapidly-closing earthly career of the sufferer on the bed. She lay there, having again fallen into deep heavy slumber, broken occasionally by a fitful cry, a moan of anguish, then relapsing once more into stertorous breathing and seemingly placid rest. In a large arm-chair close by the head of the bed sat Robert Simnel, his eyes tear-blurred, his cheeks swollen and flushed, his lips compressed, his hands stretched straight out before him and rigidly knit together over his knee. This was the end of it, then; the result of all his hopes and fears, his toiling and his scheming. Just as the prize was in his grasp, it melted into thin air. Bitter, frightfully bitter, as were his reflections at that moment, they were tinged with very little thought of self. Grief, unspeakable grief, plucked at his heartstrings as he looked upon the mangled wreck of the only thing he had ever really cherished in the course of his busy life. There lay the beautiful form which he had seen, so round and plump, swaying from side to side in graceful inflections, wit every movement of her horse, now crushed out of shape and swathed with bandages and splints. The fair hair, which he recollected tightly knotted under the comely hat, lay floating over the pillow dank with death-dew; the strong white hands, against the retaining grasp of which the fieriest horses had pulled and plunged in vain, lay helpless on the coverlet, cut and scored by the gravel, and without an infant's power in them. A fresh burst of tears clouded Robert Simnel's eyes as he looked on this sad sight; and his heart sunk within him as he felt that his one chance in life, his one chance of love and peace and happiness, was rapidly vanishing before him. Then the expression of his face changed, his eyes flashed, he set his teeth, and drove his nails into the palms of his hands; for in listening to poor Kate's incoherent exclamations and broken phrases, Simnel had gathered sufficient to give him reason to suspect that she had met Beresford, and that he had somehow or other,--whether intentionally or not, Simnel could not make out,--been connected with, if not the primary cause of, the accident. And then Simnel's chest heaved, and his breath came thick, and he inwardly swore that he would be revenged on this man, who, to the last, had proved himself the evil genius of her who once so fondly loved him.
When Barbara and Frank entered the room together, Simnel looked up, and the bad expression faded out of his face. He, in common with the rest of the world, had heard some garbled story of the separation, and he saw at a glance that poor Kitty's accident had been the means of throwing them together again, and of effecting a reconciliation. What he had just heard from the girl's month of Churchill had inspired in him a sense of gratitude and regard; and as he noticed Barbara clinging closely to her husband's arm, as she threw a half-frightened glance towards the bed, he felt himself dimly acknowledging the mysterious workings of that Providence, which, in its own good time, brings all things to their appointed end.
Frank and Barbara, after casting a hurried look at the bed, had seated themselves on the other side; the nurse, tired out with watching, had drawn her large chair close to the fire and fallen into that horrible state of nodding and catching herself up again, of struggling with sleep, then succumbing, then diving forward with a nod and pulling herself rigid in an instant--a state so common in extra-fatigue; and Simnel had dropped into his old desolate attitude. So they sat, no one speaking. Ah, the misery of that watching in a sick-room! the solemn silence scarcely broken by the ticking of the clock, the crackling of the fire, the occasional dropping of the coals, the smothered hum of wheels outside; the horrible thoughts that at such times get the mastery of the mind and riot in full sway,--thoughts of the sick person there being watched, doubts as to the chances of their recovery, wonderings as to whether they themselves are conscious of their danger, as to whether they are what is commonly called "prepared" to die. Then a dreamy state, in which we begin to wonder when we shall be in similar extreme plight; and where? Shall we have had time for the realisation of those schemes which now so much occupy us, or shall we be cut off suddenly? Shall we outlive Tom and Dick and Harry, who are now our intimates; or will they eat cake and wine before they step into the mourning-coach, and canvass our character, and be tenderly garrulous on our foibles? Shall we be able to bear it calmly and bravely when the doctor makes that dread announcement, and tells us that if we have any earthly affairs to settle, it were best to do it at once; for it is impossible to deny that there is a certain amount of danger, &c. &c. And the boys, with life before them, and no helping, guiding hand to point out the proper path? Ah, Tom and Dick and Harry, our old friends, boon-companions, trusted intimates, they surely would have the heart to look after the children? And the wife, dearest helpmate, true in all her wifely duties, but ah how unfitted to combat with the world, to have the responsibilities of the household to bear alone? And then the end itself!--the Shadow-cloaked from head to foot! the great hereafter! "Behold, we know not any thing!" Happy are we to arouse from that dismal reverie at the sound of the wheels of the doctor's carriage, and gaze into his eyes, trusting there to read a growing hope.
The reflections of the four persons assembled round poor Kate Mellon's sick-bed were not entirely of this kind. The minds of Frank and Barbara were naturally full of all that had just occurred, in which they were most interested; full of thoughts of past storms and future happiness--full of such pleasurable emotions, that the actual scene before them had but a minor influence. Simnel was pondering over his shattered idol and his dreams of vengeance; while the nurse, when for a few seconds' interval between her naps she roused herself sufficiently to think at all, was full of a cheering consciousness of earning eighteenpence a-day more in her present place than in one in which she had been previously. And then came the sound of the wheels and the smothered knock, and then the gentle opening of the door, and Mr. Slade's pleasant presence in the room.