I must have been dozing in the fauteuil, for suddenly I found myself sitting up, listening to an unwonted noise.
I knew from the count of the hoof-beats which came from down the street that a horse was galloping in long strides --a spent horse, for the timing was irregular.Then he was pulled up into a trot, then to a walk as I ran to the door and opened it and beheld Nicholas Temple flinging himself from a pony white with lather.And he was alone! He caught sight of me as soon as his foot touched the banquette.
``What are you doing here?'' I cried.``What are you doing here?''
He halted on the edge of the banquette as a hurrying man runs into a wall.He had been all excitement, all fury, as he jumped from his horse; and now, as he looked at me, he seemed to lose his bearings, to be all bewilderment.
He cried out my name and stood looking at me like a fool.
``What the devil do you mean by coming here?'' Icried.``Did I not write you to stay where you were?
How did you get here?'' I stepped down on the banquette and seized him by the shoulders.``Did you receive my letter?''
``Yes,'' he said, ``yes.'' For a moment that was as far as he got, and he glanced down the street and then at the heaving beast he had ridden, which stood with head drooping to the kennel.Then he laid hold of me.``Davy, is it true that she has yellow fever? Is it true?''
``Who told you?'' I demanded angrily.
``Andre,'' he answered.``Andre said that the lady here had yellow fever.Is it true?''
``Yes,'' I said almost inaudibly.
He let his hand fall from my shoulder, and he shivered.
``May God forgive me for what I have done!'' he said.
``Where is she?''
``For what you have done?'' I cried; ``you have done an insensate thing to come here.'' Suddenly I remembered the sentry at the gate of Fort St.Charles.``How did you get into the city?'' I said; ``were you mad to defy the Baron and his police?''
``Damn the Baron and his police,'' he answered, striving to pass me.``Let me in! Let me see her.''
Even as he spoke I caught sight of men coming into the street, perhaps at the corner of the Rue St.Pierre, and then more men, and as we went into the house I saw that they were running.I closed the doors.There were cries in the street now, but he did not seem to heed them.He stood listening, heart-stricken, to the sounds that came through the bedroom wall, and a spasm crossed his face.
Then he turned like a man not to be denied, to the bedroom door.I was before him, but Madame la Vicomtesse opened it.And I remember feeling astonishment that she did not show surprise or alarm.
``What are you doing here, Mr.Temple?'' she said.
``My mother, Madame! My mother! I must go to her.''
He pushed past her into the bedroom, and I followed perforce.I shall never forget the scene, though I had but the one glimpse of it,--the raving, yellowed woman in the bed, not a spectre nor yet even a semblance of the beauty of Temple Bow.But she was his mother, upon whom God had brought such a retribution as He alone can bestow.Lindy, faithful servant to the end, held the wasted hands of her mistress against the violence they would have done.Lindy held them, her own body rocking with grief, her lips murmuring endearments, prayers, supplications.
``Miss Sally, honey, doan you know Lindy? Gawd'll let you git well, Miss Sally, Gawd'll let you git well, honey, ter see Marse Nick--ter see--Marse--Nick--''
The words died on Lindy's lips, the ravings of the frenzied woman ceased.The yellowed hands fell limply to the sheet, the shrunken form stiffened.The eyes of the mother looked upon the son, and in them at first was the terror of one who sees the infinite.Then they softened until they became again the only feature that was left of Sarah Temple.Now, as she looked at him who was her pride, her honor, for one sight of whom she had prayed,--ay, and even blasphemed,--her eyes were all tenderness.Then she spoke.
``Harry,'' she said softly, ``be good to me, dear.You are all I have now.''
She spoke of Harry Riddle!
But the long years of penance had not been in vain.
Nick had forgiven her.We saw him kneeling at the bedside, we saw him with her hand in his, and Helene was drawing me gently out of the room and closing the door behind her.She did not look at me, nor I at her.
We stood for a moment close together, and suddenly the cries in the street brought us back from the drama in the low-ceiled, reeking room we had left.
``Ici! Ici! Voici le cheval!''
There was a loud rapping at the outer door, and a voice demanding admittance in Spanish in the name of his Excellency the Governor.
``Open it,'' said Helene.There was neither excitement in her voice, nor yet resignation.In those two words was told the philosophy of her life.
I opened the door.There, on the step, was an officer, perspiring, uniformed and plumed, and behind him a crowd of eager faces, white and black, that seemed to fill the street.He took a step into the room, his hand on the hilt of his sword, and poured out at me a torrent of Spanish of which I understood nothing.All at once his eye fell upon Helene, who was standing behind me, and he stopped in the middle of his speech and pulled off his hat and bowed profoundly.
``Madame la Vicomtesse!'' he stammered.I was no little surprised that she should be so well known.
``You will please to speak French, Monsieur,'' she said;``this gentleman does not understand Spanish.What is it you desire?''
``A thousand pardons, Madame la Vicomtesse,'' he said.
