“Matter! It’s matter enough,” gasped Mrs. Swayne, “or it never would have been me to come leaving my man in his rheumatics, and the street door open, and an old shawl over my head. And there ain’t one minute to be lost. Get your hat and something to keep you warm, and I’ll tell you by the way. It’s bitter cold outside.”
In spite of himself Jack hesitated. His pride rose up against the summons. Pamela had left him and gone over to her mother’s side, and her mother was no longer a nameless poor woman, but the hard creditor who was about to ruin him and his. Though he had vowed that he would never give her up, yet somehow at that moment his pride got the better of his love. He hesitated, and stood looking at the breathless messenger, who herself, in her turn, began to look at him with a certain contempt.
“If you ain’t a-coming, Mr. John,” said Mrs. Swayne, “say so—that’s all as I ask. Not as I would be any way surprised. It’s like men. When you don’t want ’em, they’ll come fast enough; but when you’re in need, and they might be of some use—Ugh! that ain’t my way. I wouldn’t be the wretch as would leave that poor young critter in her trouble, all alone.”
“All alone—what do you mean?” said Jack, following her to the door, and snatching his hat as he passed. “How can she be alone? Did she send you? What trouble is she in? Woman, can’t you tell me what you mean?”
“I won’t be called woman by you, not if you was ten times as grand—not if you was a duke or a lord,” said Mrs. Swayne, rushing out into the night. Beyond the circle of the household lights, the gleaming lamp at the door and lighted windows, the avenue was black as only a path in the heart of the country can be. The night was intensely dark, the rain drizzling, and now and then a shower of leaves falling with the rain. Two or three long strides brought Jack up with the indignant Mrs. Swayne, who ran and stumbled, but made indifferent progress. He took hold of her arm, and in his excitement unconsciously gave her a shake.
“Keep by me and I’ll guide you,” he said; “and tell me in a word what is the matter, and how she happens to be alone.”
Then Mrs. Swayne’s passion gave way to tears. “You’d think yourself alone,” she cried, “if you was left with one as has had a shock, and don’t know you no more than Adam, and ne’er a soul in the house, now I’m gone, but poor old Swayne with his rheumatics, as can’t stir, not to save his life. You’d think it yourself if it was you. But catch a man a-forgetting of hisself like that; and the first thought in her mind was for you. Oh me! oh me! She thought you’d ha’ come like an arrow out of a bow.”
“A shock?” said Jack vaguely to himself; and then he let go his hold of Mrs. Swayne’s arm. “I can’t wait for you,” he said; “I can be there quicker than you.” And he rushed wildly into the darkness, forsaking her. He was at the gate before the bewildered woman, thus abandoned, could make two steps in advance. As he dashed past old Betty’s cottage, he saw inside the lighted window a face he knew, and though he did not recognize who it was, a certain sense of help at hand came over him. Another moment and he was in Mrs. Swayne’s cottage, so far recollecting himself as to tread more softly as he rushed up the dark and narrow stair. When he opened the door, Pamela gave but one glance round to greet him. She was alone, as Mrs. Swayne had said. On the bed by which she stood lay a marble figure, dead to all appearance except for its eyes. Those eyes moved in the strangest, most terrible way, looking wildly round and round, now at the ceiling, now at the window, now at Pamela, imperious and yet agonized. And poor little Pamela, soft girlish creature, stood desperate, trying to read what they said. She had not a word to give to Jack—not even a look, except for one brief moment. “What does she want—what does she want?” she cried. “Oh, mamma! mamma! will you not try to speak?”
“Is there no one with you?” said Jack. “Have you sent for the doctor? How long has she been like this? My darling! my poor little darling! Has the doctor seen her yet?”
“I sent for you,” said Pamela, piteously. “Oh, what does she want? I think she could speak if she would only try.”