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CHAPTER XXXII

KATE refused to go down to dinner. She refused to see Ethel when she came up and humbly knocked at her door.

"Let me in, please, Kitty; Kitty darling, do let me in."

"No, no, you must go away, I cannot see any one," replied Kate. And Ethel went downstairs again disconsolate.

Then Mrs. Hume came and knocked at the door.

"Kate, I must see you; open your door at once." Her voice was not exactly imperative, but it was pleading. Kate had respect for her years and for the motherhood which was in her, and going to the door unlocked it.

"Well," she said, holding her long arms to her sides and staring full at her visitor. She was dressed in black, her face was ghastly pale, her hair was in disorder.

"Why are you dressed like that? Why do you look like that?" said Mrs. Hume. "It is unlucky to put on black, why did you do it?"

"Unlucky," said Kate with a wild laugh. "Yes, but not more unlucky than I am--than I shall be. Come in, Mrs. Hume, if you will."

"Mrs. Hume! Why do you call me that?"

"Aunt Susannah I mean. Oh, my whole heart is closed up. The man I love best in all the world is leaving me--why was I ever born?"

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"Poor child, poor child! sit down, dear Kitty." Mrs. Hume seated herself in a chair, but Kate did not sit--she still stood bolt upright.

"It is no use your seeing me," she said, "and I would rather you did not pity me until this thing is over one way or the other. If he dies I believe I shall lose my senses."

"Do you indeed love him so passionately, Kate?"

"Love him?" said Kate. "Love him? In all the world I only love him. I love him well enough to sin for him. I love him well enough to lose all that I care for on earth and in heaven for him. If he dies I shall lose my senses."

"We must trust in God--shall we pray to God now? Shall we ask Him to spare that most precious life?"

"Pray!" said Kate, with a laugh. "Pray! no, Mrs. Hume--Aunt Susannah I mean--I cannot pray."

"Your uncle wants to see you for a moment or two," said Mrs. Hume. She got up, she was weak and trembling. Kate's defiant attitude pained her inexpressibly. She did not know how to contend with her, nor what to say. "Will you see your uncle, Kate?"

"If he wishes. I am indifferent."

"I will send him up, dear. He has just one or two things to say to you; he will not keep you long."

"I will leave the door unlocked," said Kate, "and I hope he won't keep me long."

"I will tell him that you cannot stand much. Good-night, dear child, even though you cannot pray yourself, try and remember that I am praying most earnestly for you."

Kate did not even say "thank you." Mrs. Hume slowly left the room. A moment or two later Mr. Hume appeared.

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"My dear Katherine," he said, "you know how I feel for you in this, but I will not trouble you with words of mere sympathy at present. Even in the most acute cases favourable symptoms take place, and one never knows what may or may not occur. I should recommend you to take a good sleeping draught and lie down. You look terribly excited."

"I! sleep when--when Ralph may be dying!" said Kate. Her eyes were dilated in a fearful manner; she shook her head.

"I will not suggest it again, my dear. There is one thing, that in an acute case of this kind the crisis must come quickly. We must hope for the best."

Kate made no sign. After a time she said slowly--

"Aunt Susannah said you wished to say something."

"I do. It is most provoking about those tickets--I cannot imagine where they are."

"Oh, I cannot discuss them now. My head reels, I scarcely know what tickets you mean."

"My dear child, it is wrong to trouble you about these things, but, Kate, I wish you would let me see your bank-book."

"My bank-book!" said Kate, starting back. "Why?"

"Because it was the arrangement that I was to overlook it monthly so that all your affairs may be in absolute order. You have no head for business. If you have it with you I will take it to the bank to be made up."

"Just as you please," said Kate. She had absolutely forgotten all about the thousand pounds she had drawn that day.

"I am getting your affairs into order, Kate, and | | 312 must have a talk with you when this fearful crisis is past, as I trust it will, happily. Ah, that is the book; thank you, my dear."

Mr. Hume opened it. There might be the greatest catastrophe in the house, but he never could lose his lawyer-like instinct.

"It has not been made up for three or four months," he said--"dreadful, dreadful! My dear girl, with property like yours this will never do. Suppose you had the management of your own affairs--where would you be?"

"Where, indeed?" said Kate with a wan smile. Suddenly the colour flushed in her cheeks; she remembered all of a sudden the thousand pounds which she had drawn that day.

"I know little or nothing about money," she said. "In father's lifetime I had nothing whatever to do with it. But what do you want the bank-book for?"

"In order to ascertain what your balance now is. Just before your marriage I put six thousand pounds to your credit. Doubtless it is still there intact."

"You want to know how much money I have in the bank? But surely that is my own affair?"

"Quite so, my dear, quite so; you may have spent the whole six thousand and it can scarcely matter to me, but I wish to know how things stand. But how roused you look!--I am glad to find you interested in anything."

"I would rather you did not worry about my money affairs at present," said Kate. "We can talk over things when Ralph is out of danger."

"Time enough, certainly."

"Then give me the bank-book."

"No, now that I have it I will keep it."

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Mr. Hume nodded to Kate, and before she could say another word left the room. She stood for a moment holding her head between her hands. She was lost in perplexed and terrible thought.

If he finds out that yesterday I drew a thousand pounds from the bank he will certainly suspect something," she said to herself. "Oh, how the coils are tightening round me; what shall I do? I wonder if I can keep my senses. Mother was right. My crime has brought me no happiness. Oh, is there on God's earth a more miserable woman?"

She stood trying hard to think for a few moments; a hand was laid on her shoulder, she turned round. Marryat had come in with a little tray on which was a cup of strong and delicious soup.

"You must drink this, my dear," she said in a kindly motherly way. The tone of the woman's voice awoke a feeling in the wretched girl's breast which could not be restrained. She held out her hand for the soup.

"Oh, give it to me, Marryat," she said; "sit down and feed me. Treat me as if I were a baby. Marryat, I am so miserable."

"Poor child, poor child! but we must hope for the best."

"Marryat, do you really think he will die?"

"Dear heart, how can I tell? But they do say that a magpie came three times to the window of his room to-day, and that is a bad sign, as you know, and a white pigeon flew into the room when we opened the window wide--that's another bad sign, and--"

" Marryat, if you say any more I shall scream."

"We must hope for the best," said Marryat in a grave voice, "but it's a very bad case. But there, I | | 314 have heard of as had before and the patient has got well. It don't seem as if everything ought to crush you, Mrs. Henley, such love as you feel for your husband. Perhaps God Almighty will be merciful."

"Do you think He will? Do you think God will really spare him? Would it be any good if you, Marryat, prayed for him?"

"Could not you pray yourself, my dear young lady?"

"I cannot."

"Well, drink your soup." Marryat was watching her with curious eyes.

"She is desperate," she said to herself; " if I play my cards well to-night she will tell me everything. She shall, she must confide in me. I am sorry for her, but the time has come when I must know all, and then I will decide how best to act."

Kate drank the soup and was slightly refreshed.

"What a mess your hair is in!" said Marryat; "you must let me brush it for you, and what in the name of fortune have you put on that black dress for? It don't suit you a bit, Mrs. Henley."

"I like it," said Kate; " it is soft and it makes no noise. It is the sort of dress that a poor woman would wear, is it not, Marryat?"

"Well, my dear, you are not a poor woman, so why should you wear it? You are one of the richest and most spoiled young ladies I have ever come across, but wear black to-night you shan't, and off this must come!"

"What shall I wear?" said the girl, submitting to Marryat's ministrations as she would submit to no one else at that moment.

"Here's a pretty blue dress, soft and clinging. It | | 315 will make no noise, and will be a bit of brightness, should your husband want to see you. Now we will put it on, and I'll get you some hot water, and after you have washed, and have got on this dress, you will feel much refreshed."

So Marryat ministered to Kate. She took off the ugly black dress and brushed the long, lovely hair, put on the blue dress, and then made her mistress lie on the sofa.

"Now, then, perhaps you can sleep," said the woman, "but first of all, I will go and ask Nurse Bryan what the news is."

The news from the sick-room was not reassuring. The two nurses did not go to bed that night, and Dr. Thornton had already taken his place in the ante-room.

"How is Mrs. Henley?" he asked, as Marryat was tripping back to her mistress.

"Very bad indeed, sir; quite distracted."

"Ah, poor young lady! Is she likely to come to see your master during the night?"

"It is impossible for me to say, sir, what whim my mistress will take. She is a young lady with curious impulses; I don't know whether she will, or not."

"I wish you could get her to bed, and to sleep."

"It would be rather awful, sir, if she woke up and heard that her husband was dead."

"Whether she wakes or not makes very little difference. I cannot conceal the truth from you. Mr. Henley is not likely to see the night out."

Marryat went back to Kate with a very grave face.

"You must get into bed, my dear," she said; " I | | 316 shall not treat you, at a time like the present, as if you were my mistress. You just want some one to order you a bit, and you have got to obey me. Whether you like it or not, you are in my power, for I know too many things about you, but I ain't going to be hard. I'll cling to you through thick and thin, but get into bed you must."

"How--how is he?" said Kate.

"Well, there is no change at present. Everything is being done that can be done, Dr. Thornton is there, and both the nurses are sitting up. Now then, Mrs. Henley, you cannot keep your eyes open another moment. I will undress you, and put you to bed."

"As you please," said Kate. It was true she could not hold out much longer. Marryat undressed her and put her into bed.

"Now then, I will sit by you until you sleep. Oh yes, you will drop off soon enough. You're fair dead with fatigue."

Kate shook her head. Like many another, she thought that sleep would not visit her. In reality she had dropped into profound slumber in less than five minutes. When she awoke again, she had a curious, puzzled sensation. She raised her head, then full consciousness returned to her. Marryat was lying on the sofa, sound asleep. There was a night-light in a corner of the room. Kate struck a match, and looked at the hour. It was between three and four in the morning. What a long, long sleep she had had! She felt quite refreshed, and her brain cleared, but the tortures of her mental state became so acute, that she could not lie still another moment. She rose very softly. She did not want to awaken Marryat, but she | | 317 must find out somehow how her husband was. She put on a dressing-gown, and stole from the room. There was a light in the passage. Kate crossed the landing, and entered the ante-room which led into her husband's bedroom, and softly stood on the threshold of the sick-room itself. Was it a death-room? Was there a living man still feebly struggling with death, or had he already succumbed in the dire conflict?

Kate approached the bedside, a hand was laid on her arm, she did not scream but she turned swiftly round. Dr. Thornton was looking at her.

"You must go away," he said. He led her out of the room.

"What is the matter?" she asked, "is he worse?"

"There is not the slightest hope, Mrs. Henley."

"No hope?" said Kate. The words dropped slowly, her lips seemed to freeze. She thought her heart would stop heating, then suddenly there came over her a strange coolness, and a curious knowledge of her own imminent danger. Instead of thinking only of her husband at this crucial and awful moment she thought first of herself.

"He will die?" she said.

The doctor bowed his head.

"We have done all that man can do," he said, "the crisis is very near."

"The crisis, you mean his death is very near?"

"He may die at any moment."

"Is he still alive?"

"Yes."

"I must see him while he lives. I never could bear to look at a dead person; I must see him while he lives," said Kate; "may I look at him while he still breathes?"

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"If you will promise to make no sound, not that it greatly matters, but still one must give every chance." " I will make no sound, I promise."

They re-entered the sick-room together, they stood close by the bed.

"I cannot see his face," whispered poor Kate.

The doctor calmly lit a candle and brought it over to the bedside. He let the light fall full upon the sunken features. Kate could scarcely recognise her own husband. There was an immense change in him.

"Would he--would he wake if I kissed him once again?" she asked.

"No, no, he is past that," said the man of science.

Kate bent forwards. Her lips touched the clammy forehead of the dying man. She kissed him once, twice.

"It is Kitty saying good-bye," she whispered to the ear that could not hearken to her words, and then she left the room. She went straight back to Marryat. Marryat was sound asleep. Kate shook her forcibly.

"Get up, Marryat," she said, "get up, I want you."

"What is it, Mrs. Henley? oh what is the matter? is Mr. Henley worse?"

"I have said good-bye to him, I shall never see him again. I cannot be in the house when he is dead. I am going, Marryat; will you come with me?"

"Where?" asked the maid.

"Away, away from here. Come with me, Marryat; we will go to Australia. Thursday has dawned, and the Hydra sails to-day. I have got the tickets, I kept them back on purpose; you and I will take the berths, and we will go away over the waters. Come quickly, Marryat."

Kate laughed in her intense feverish excitement. Marryat paused.

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"Shall I go?" she said to herself. "Poor child, she will soon be traced and found, but after all I must get her secret from her. Yes, I will go away with her, I will take her to London, to a place I know, and then she will confide in me fully."

"Yes, Mrs. Henley," she said aloud, "I will come. Sit down, my dear, do not exhaust yourself overmuch. Try and keep calm, we will slip away together."

"Quickly, quickly," said Kate, clasping and unclasping her hands. "I cannot be in the house with one who is dead. I have said good-bye, and I cannot wait."