Chapter XIV: ILL Tidings

ANOTHER hour of waiting passed. Millicent was really growing anxious, and she found Diana's cool assurances that all was and must be right somewhat difficult to bear. Escott had found his way to the drawing-room, and was watching with them.

Suddenly a little figure became visible, hurrying along the pavement in a manner which told of failing power. The hat was falling off behind, the steps though rapid were uncertain, and a general air of disorder and distress was apparent. Millicent and Escott exchanged looks. Diana stared, and Beryl gazed fixedly. All had a suspicion of the truth, yet it was not till the little figure was almost below the window that a general exclamation broke out—"It is Pearl."

And then there was a simultaneous, "Where is Ivor?"

"He has stayed behind for something, of course," said Diana.

Millicent stood up, but did not move farther. Diana rushed to the door, followed by Escott; but when Pearl came in, she pushed past them both, and reached Millicent.

That was all she could do. She was a pitiful sight, wan and blue-lipped, with wide-open distressed eyes, and breath in such laboured gasps that speech was utterly impossible. She grasped both Millicent's hands with her poor little shaking fingers, and struggled, but struggled in vain, for utterance.

The others came pressing round her, unnoticed. Pearl seemed to see no face except Millicent's. Diana was exclaiming and questioning in voluble style. Millicent had grown white to the lips, but she was calm.

"Hush, Di," she said. "Be quiet, all of you. Pearl will tell us directly what is wrong. She has run too fast. We must have a moment's patience."

The gasps were lessening slowly, but with returning breath came thick passionate sobs, fighting their way up, and preventing speech. Pearl wrung her hands together in voiceless agony. And when Diane would have touched her, she flung herself into Millicent's arms, with an incoherent shriek, meant for words.

Millicent held her firmly. "Hush, Pearl, hush," she commanded, with her colourless lips. "There must be no screams. Diana, you 'must' be quiet, or leave the room. Beryl, will you get a glass of water, please? Not a word, any of you."

Even Diana yielded, and for the moment said nothing.

Millicent with difficulty made Pearl swallow a few sips of water. "A little more," she said. "Now wait for a few seconds,—keep quite still, and then you must tell me quietly what is wrong."

Pearl buried her face in Millicent's shoulder, and for several seconds the silence was unbroken, except by her sobs.

"Now," Millicent said at length.

The agony of distress came back. "Ivor—Ivor—Ivor," gasped Pearl. "Oh, what shall I do? I don't know what to do!"

"Pearl, is Ivor dead?"

The mother's lips asked the question slowly and distinctly.

Pearl thrilled all over, and said, "O no!—O no!"

"Then he is hurt."

"O yes—"

"How was it?"

Pearl could not speak. Her efforts only resulted in heart-broken sobs. A stronger and more unselfish nature would, in pity to the poor mother, have put thoughts of self aside for the moment, but this Pearl could not do. She was utterly overpowered.

"Where is Ivor?" asked Millicent, her own self-restraint so heavily taxed as to be in danger of failing. "Pearl, I must know," she said gently. "I must go to him."

Pearl managed to gasp out something about, "near Kewstoke," "house," and "doctor wanted."

Beryl came forward for the first time. "Can't I help?" she asked. "I could fetch a fly,—and if I knew who your doctor is—"

A faint look of relief at the suggestion passed over Millicent's features.

"One moment," Escott said, with a detaining movement. "Pearl will have to tell us where to go."

"Pearl, do have pity on Mrs. Cumming, and speak," said Beryl, in a low voice.

Sobbing still, but not so violently, Pearl drew a folded scrap of paper from her glove. "The men wrote—wrote down the address," she said.

Escott glanced at it. "Then we need lose no more time," he said. "If Beryl will kindly call a fly, I will find a doctor to go with us. Is Ivor 'much' hurt, Pearl?" The words were very gently uttered.

"Oh—yes," gasped Pearl.

"Had he a fall?"

"Not—not exactly!" Pearl was crying excessively again. "He—he—caught his foot—"

It was very unsatisfactory, but more could not yet be obtained. Pearl seemed to be on the verge of hysterics.

Beryl and Escott disappeared on their respective errands, and Millicent too went away, speedily to return, ready for her drive. She found Pearl in a renewed flood of tears, under a process of close questioning from Diana.

"I can't get much out of her," Diana said, "except that Ivor went after something at her request, and she thinks herself guilty in consequence."

"Poor little girl," Millicent said kindly, and she kissed Pearl's brow. "No one will count that of you, my dear."

"He must have been pretty bad. The men had to carry him," continued Diana.

Millicent's hand came on Pearl's. "Was he insensible?" she asked.

"No," sobbed Pearl. "He couldn't—couldn't move."

Then Escott came back, having happily found at home the first doctor at whose house he had called; and immediately afterwards Beryl drove to the door in a fly.

"Mother, I am coming too," Escott said decidedly. "I told the doctor we would call for him in ten minutes, or less."

Then the two were gone, and the stir was over.

"Well,—I shall decide to get home as soon as possible," Diana said, in rather an injured tone. "This sort of thing really is too much for one's nerves. I declare—nobody has thought of Uncle Josiah all this time. Just like Millie! He will be dreadfully angry not to have been told. Well, it cannot be helped now. Do stop crying, Pearl."

The tone was not exactly unkind, but certainly it was not sympathising.

Pearl crouched down in a corner of the sofa, burying her face in the cushions, and sobbing still in a kind of exhausted way, as if she had no strength to leave off.

Beryl longed to go to her, but dared not.

"Come,—the best place for you is bed," said Diana.

Pearl silently declined to move, and Diana made no attempt to enforce her own mandate.

Mr. Crosbie presently came in, and heard the whole story from Diana's lips, gaps in knowledge being lavishly filled up with suppositions. The old gentleman waxed impatient, and questioned Pearl, but she only crouched lower in her corner, and would not speak. When further pressed, she started up and ran away.

"The best thing you can do is to go and put her to bed," Diana observed carelessly to Beryl,—"if you wish to make yourself useful."

Beryl's heart bounded at the suggestion, though her manner showed no particular pleasure. She obeyed immediately, only to find Pearl's door locked. Pearl turned for some time a deaf ear to raps, but it was at length opened.

"May I come in?" asked Beryl.

"No, I don't want anybody," Pearl said, holding the door against her. "Please let me be alone."

"But you will make yourself ill, if you cry so. Aunt Di told me to come."

"I don't care. If you would only leave me alone—"

"I need not stay long. Just let me help you to undress."

"I don't want help. I'm—I'm not going to bed—till—till I know how Ivor is."

She ceased resistance suddenly, and threw herself on the couch, sobbing as much as ever.

Beryl entered and stood over her, a good deal at a loss how to act.

"Pearl, is Ivor very much hurt indeed?" she asked at length. "Don't you think you would feel better if you could speak about it?"

Pearl shook her head and moaned.

Beryl suddenly bethought herself of a certain mode of school-treatment for a certain hysterical child. She brought a basin of water to a chair near, and began bathing Pearl's flushed face and disordered hair with a wet sponge.

Pearl did not resist, but seemed rather to like it, and the violent crying lessened.

"And now you will take your things off," said Beryl persuasively. "Do, Pearl. You are so tired."

Pearl did not respond to the suggestion. She was cramped up on the couch, with her blistered face resting on one arm, sighing deeply every few seconds.

"I can't yet," she said. "Do let me be quiet. Beryl, he—he—didn't fall exactly,—but it was in getting over a high gate,—he caught his foot—"

The sentences were broken up by long sighs.

"Yes, Pearl," said Beryl encouragingly.

"I don't know how—I didn't see. He was going to get a flower for me—" and her face drew up into distressed puckers.

"Don't cry any more," said Beryl. "It's of no use."

"I can't help crying. It was so dreadful," sobbed Pearl. "If only I had not wanted that flower. And I didn't know what to do. I thought he was going to die—he looked so awful—I can't tell you how."

"Did he say he was very badly hurt?"

"Yes—he—he—said so. He couldn't move, and he could hardly speak; but he said it was bad—he thought it was a strain. And I got the men to come, and one of them—one said—it was 'very' bad."

"But I don't understand," said Beryl. "How could he hurt himself so much, if it was a mere slip?"

"O no, it wasn't. I didn't mean that. I think he tried to jump, and it was too high, and his foot caught on the top bar, and he went over. It was a longer way the other side to fall. I don't know how I climbed over to him," sobbed Pearl, "I 'did' tremble so. I saw he couldn't move, and I heard him moan; and when I saw him, I thought he would die that minute. He said I must get help,—and we had seen two men just before, quite near, and I ran for them."

"And they took Ivor to Kewstoke?"

"Yes, at least near Kewstoke,—the house where one of them was a gardener, I think. He said he didn't dare move Ivor farther till a doctor had seen him. He just wrote down the name of the house, and told me I must come straight back for a doctor, and he sent the other man for something to carry Ivor on. Oh, it is so very very dreadful," wept Pearl. "If only Aunt Di and I had never come to Weston. And I made her do it. Oh, I wish I hadn't."

Crying came on again, and Beryl returned to cold water sponging, as better than talk. Presently, to her great relief, Pearl dropped into a sound sleep.

Beryl drew a chair near, and settled herself to watch. She was quite content to sit there, doing nothing. It was a sort of fulfilment of her childish dream of caring for Pearl's wants. The old passionate love of Pearl, long thrust down into deep recesses of her heart, came welling up this hour. The poor little reddened and blistered face was sweeter now to Beryl, than it had been in its loveliness that morning.

"O Pearlie! If you could only care for me!" she murmured.

Then Diana came in, opening the door without warning, and not too quietly.

Pearl stirred, but did not wake.

Beryl looked up, and with difficulty checked a "Hush," which would have given dire offence.

"Asleep, is she?" said Diana. "Silly little goose."

Beryl flushed hotly with a kind of anger. Diana came to the couch.

"Well, the best thing she can do is to sleep on. I shall allow no more long walks. They knock her quite up. I suppose she has not told you any particulars."

"Not much," Beryl said in a low voice. "Ivor tried to leap a high gate, and caught his feet, and fell over. He told Pearl he thought it was a strain."

"Young men are always trying to do more than they are able. It is an absurd habit," said Diana. "I don't suppose it will prove to be much. A sprained ankle, probably."

Beryl was glad to see her rustle out of the room.

Pearl presently woke, but was so weary as to be glad to undress and go to bed, where, after having some tea, she soon sank again into unconsciousness. Beryl waited on her assiduously, restraining expressions of affection, but curiously happy in her task.

Late in the evening, she saw a fly stop in front of the house, and some one descended from it,—Escott, Beryl thought, in the dusky light. She went noiselessly out of the room, not waking Pearl, and entered the drawing-room, just before Escott came in. He walked with bent head and slow step. Beryl knew in a moment that he had brought no good news.

"Well, Escott, what does it all mean?" asked Diana. "A false alarm, I suspect."

Escott looked at her vacantly, and then at Beryl. "Don't tell Pearl to-night," he said. "Let her sleep quietly till the morning. Ivor is dying."