” Thank you. But I can’t drink all this.”
” Never mind. You have had a little. It Will help to revive you. I am going to find Damaris.”
He went and I was not sure how long I remained alone. I kept going over it in my mind: My father’s leaving Glen 182 House and not returning until the following day. He must have stayed a night near the institution . perhaps after seeing her he had to compose himself before returning home So this was the reason for that house of gloom; this was why [ had always felt the need to escape from if. He should have warned me; he should have prepared me. But perhaps it was better that I had not known. Perhaps it would have been better if I had never known.
Damaris came into the room with her father. She was wearing a heavy coat with fur at the collar, and her hands were thrust into a muff. I thought she looked sullen and reluctant to accompany me, so I began to protest that I was in no need of companionship.
But the doctor said determinedly: “Damaris would like a walk.” He smiled at me as though everything were normal and he had not almost shattered my belief in myself by his revelations.
” Are you ready?” asked Damaris. ” Yes, I am ready.”
The doctor shook my hand gravely. He said I should take a sedative to-night as I was sleeping badly, implying to Damaris, I thought, that this was the reason for my coming I took the bottle he gave me and thrust it into the inside pocket of my cloak; and Damaris and I set out together.
“How cold it is!” she said.
“We shall have snow before morning if this continues.”
The wind had whipped the colour to her cheeks and she looked beautiful in her little hat which was trimmed with the same fur as her muff.
” Let’s go through the copse,” she said. ” It’s a little longer but we shall escape the wind.”
I was walking as though in my sleep. I did not notice where we went.
I could only go over and over in my mind what the doctor had told me, and the more I thought of it the more likely it seemed.
We stopped in the shelter of some trees for a while for Damaris said she had a stone in her boot which was hurting her. She sat on a fallen tree-trunk and removed the boot, shaking it and then putting it on again. She grew red trying to do the buttons up.
Then we went on, but the boot was still hurting her and she sat down on the grass while the operation was repeated. ” It’s a tiny piece of flint,” she said. ” This must be it.” 183 And she lifted her hand to throw it away. ” It’s amazing that such a little thing could cause such discomfort. Oh dear, these wretched buttons.”
” Let me help.”
” No, I can do them myself.” She struggled for a little while, then she looked up to say: “I’m glad you met my mother. She was really very pleased to see you.”
” Your father seems very anxious about her.”
” He is. He’s anxious about all his patients.”
” And she is, of course, a very special patient,” I added.
” We have to watch her or she will overtax her strength.”
I thought of Ruth’s words. She was a hypochondriac and it was because of the doctor’s life with her that he threw him self so wholeheartedly into his work.
But my mind was filled by one thought only as I stood there among the trees.
Was it true? I did not ask that question about my mother because everything fitted so well. I knew that must be true. What did I mean then? I had asked the question involuntarily: Am I like my mother? In doing so I had admitted my doubts.
Standing there in the woods on that December day I felt that I had come as near to despair as I had in my whole life. But I had not touched the very bottom yet. That was imminent but at that moment I believed that nothing worse could happen to me.
Damans had buttoned her boot; she had thrust her hands into her muff and we were off again.
I was surprised when I found that we had come out of the trees on the far side of the Abbey, and that it was necessary to walk through the ruins to the Revels.
” I know,” said Damans, ” that this is a favourite spot of yours.”
” It was,” I amended. ” It is some time since I have been here.”
I realised now that the afternoon was fading and that in an hour or so it would be dark.
I said: ” Luke must take you home.” “Perhaps,” she answered.
It seemed darker in the ruins. It was naturally so because of the shadows cast by those piles of stones. ” We had passed the fish-ponds and were in the heart of the Abbey when I saw the monk. He was passing through what was left of the 184 arcade; silently and swiftly he went; and he was exactly as he had been at the foot of my bed. I cried out:
” Damaris! There 1 Look! “
The figure paused at the sound of my voice, and, turning, beckoned.
Then he turned away and went on. Now the figure had disappeared behind one of the buttresses which held up what was left of the arcade ; now it was visible again as it moved into the space between one buttress and the next.
I watched it, fascinated, horrified, yet unable to move.
I cried out: ” Quick 1 We must catch him.”
Damaris clung to my arm, holding me back.
” But there is no time to waste,” I cried. ” We’ll lose him. We know he’s somewhere in the Abbey. We’ve got to find him. He shan’t get away this time.”
Damaris said: ” Please, Catherine … I’m frightened.”
” So am I. But we’ve got to find him.” I went stumbling towards the arcade, but she was dragging me back.
” Come home,” she cried. ” Come home at once.”
I turned to face her.
“You’ve seen it,” I cried triumphantly. ” So now you can tell them.
You’ve seen it!”
” We must go to the Revels,” she said. ” We must go at once.”
” But …” I realised that we could not catch him because he could move so much faster than we could. But that was not so important.
Someone else had seen him, and I was exultant. Relief following so fast on panic was almost unendurable. Only now could I admit how shaken I had been, how frightened.
But there was no need to fear. I was vindicated. Someone else had seen.
She was dragging me through the ruins and the house was in sight.
“Oh, Damaris,” I said, “how thankful I am that it happened then … that you saw.”
She turned her beautiful, blank face towards me and her words made me feel as though I had suddenly been plunged into icy water.
” What did you see, Catherine?”
” Damaris … what do you mean?”
“You were very excited. You could see something, couldn’t you?”
” But do you mean to say you didn’t!” 185 ” There wasn’t anything there, Catherine. There was nothing.”
I turned to her. I was choking with rage and anguish. I believe I took her arm and shook her. ” You’re lying,” I cried. ” You’re pretending.”
She shook her head as though she was going to burst into tears.
” No, Catherine, no. I wish I had … How I wish I could have seen if it meant so much to you.”
” You saw it,” I said. ” I know you saw it.”
” I didn’t see anything, Catherine. There wasn’t anything.” I said coldly: ” So you are involved in this, are you?”
“What, Catherine, what?” she asked piteously. ” Why did you take me to the Abbey? Because you knew it would be there. So that you could say that you saw nothing. So that you could tell them I am mad!”
I was losing control, because I was thoroughly frightened I had admited my fear when I thought there was no longer reason to be afraid; and that was my undoing. She was clutching at my arm but I threw her off.
“I don’t need your help,” I said.
“I don’t want your help. Go away. At least I’ve proved that you are his accomplice.”
I stumbled on. I could not move very fast. It was as though the child within me protested.
I entered the house; it seemed quiet and repelling. I went to my room and lay on my bed, and I stayed there until darkness came. Mary-Jane came to ask if I wished to have dinner sent up to me; but I said I was not hungry, only very tired. I sent her away and I locked the doors.
That was my darkest hour.
Then I took a dose of the doctor’s sedative and soon I fell into merciful sleep.
There is some special quality which develops in a woman who is to have a child; already the fierce instinct is with her. She will protect that child with all the power of which she is capable and, as her determination to do so increases, so it seems does that power.
I awoke next morning refreshed after the unbroken sleep 186 which the doctor’s sedative had given me. The events of the previous day came rushing back to my mind, and even then [ felt as though I were at the entrance of a dark tunnel it would be disastrous for me to enter, but into which I might be swept by the bitter blast of ill-fortune.
But the child was there, reminding me of its existence. Where I went there must the child go; what happened to me must have its effect on the child. I was going to fight this thing which was threatening to destroy me—not only for myself but for the sake of one who was more precious to me.
When Mary-Jane came in with my breakfast she did not see that anything was different, and I felt that was my first triumph. I had been terrified that I should be unable to hide the fear which had almost prostrated me on the previous day ” It’s a grand morning, madam,” she said.
” Is it, Mary Jane
” A bit of a wind still, but any road t’sun’s shining.”
” I’m glad.”
I half closed my eyes and she went out. I found it difficult to eat, but I managed a little. The sun sent a feeble ray on to the bed and it cheered me; I thought it was symbolic. The sun is always there, I reminded myself, only the clouds get in between. There’s always a way of dealing with every problem, only ignorance gets in the way.
I wanted to think very clearly. I knew in my heart that what I had seen had been with my eyes, not with my imagination. Inscrutable as it seemed, there was an explanation somewhere.
Damaris was clearly involved in the plot against me; and what more reasonable than that she should be, for if Luke wished to frighten me into giving birth to a stillborn child, and Damaris was to be his wife, it was surely reasonable enough to suppose that she would work with him.
But it was possible that these two young people could pl6t so diabolical a murder, for murder it would be even though the child had not come into the world.
I tried to review the situation clearly and work out what must be done.
The first thing that occurred to me was that I might go back to my father’s house. I rejected that idea almost as soon as it came. I should have to give a reason- l should have to say: ” Someone at the Revels is trying to drive me to the brink of madness. Therefore I am running away.” I felt that it Would be an admission of my fear, and if, for one moment, I accepted the view that I was suffering 187 from hallucinations, I had taken the first steps on that road along which someone here was trying to force me.
I did not think at this time I could endure the solemnity, the morbid atmosphere of my father’s house.
I had made my decision: I could never know peace of mind again until I had solved this mystery. It was therefore not something from which I could run away. I was going to intensify my search for my persecutor.
I owed it to myself and to my child.
I must now make a practical plan, and I decided that I would go to Hagar and take her into my confidence. I should have preferred to act alone, but that was impossible because my first step, I had decided, must be to go to Worstwhistle and confirm Dr. Smith’s words.
I could not ask anyone at the Revels to drive me there so I must go to Hagar. | When I had bathed and dressed I set out immediately for |
Kelly Grange. It was about half past ten when I arrived, and I went straight to Hagar and told her what the doctor had told me.
She listened gravely and when I had finished she said:
Simon shall take you to that place immediately. I think with you that should be the first step. “
She rang for Dawson and told her to send Simon to us at once.
Remembering my suspicions of Simon I was a little anxious, but I realised that I had to get to Worstwhistle even if it did mean taking a chance; and as soon as he entered the room my suspicions vanished, and I was ashamed that I had ever entertained them. That was the effect he was beginning to have on me.
Hagar told him what had happened. He looked astonished and then he said: ” Well, we’d better get over to Worstwhistle right away.”
” I will send someone over to the Revels to tell them that you are taking luncheon with me,” said Hagar; and I was glad she had thought of that because I should have aroused their curiosity if I had not returned.
Fifteen minutes later Simon was driving the trap, with me sitting beside him, along the road to Worstwhistle. We did not speak much during that journey; and I was grateful to him for falling in with my mood. I could think of nothing but the interview before me which was going to mean so much to me. I kept remembering my father’s absences from home and the sadness which always seemed to surround him; and I could 188 not help believing that there was truth in what the doctor had told me.