The House Opposite Part 27

Mrs. Derwent, whose approach I had been watching, here joined us, hot and out of breath from her unwonted exertion. Her indignation at finding May in the arms of a comparative stranger was such that she dragged her daughter quite roughly from me.

"You must really calm yourself, May," she commanded, with more severity than I had thought her capable of.

But the poor child only continued to tremble and cry. As it seemed a hopeless undertaking to try and quiet her, Mrs. Derwent and I each took her by an arm and between us we a.s.sisted her home. As we were nearing it, I saw Norman hurrying towards us.

"What's the matter?" he inquired, anxiously.

As May had grown gradually more composed, her mother felt she could now leave her to my care, and, joining Norman, they walked briskly ahead, an arrangement which I don't think that young man at all relished.

My darling and I strolled slowly on, she leaning confidingly on me, and I was well content.

"You are not frightened, now?" I asked.

She raised her beautiful eyes for an instant to mine.

"No," she murmured; and all I could see of her averted face was one small crimson ear.

"I hope you will never be afraid when I am with you," I said, pressing her arm gently to my side. She did not withdraw from me, only hung her head lower, so I went on bravely.

"These last forty-four hours have been the longest and most intolerable of my life!"

She elevated her eyebrows, and I thought I perceived a faint smile hovering around her lips.

"Indeed!"

"I hope you got some flowers I sent you yesterday?"

"Yes. Didn't you receive my note thanking you for them? They were very beautiful!"

I loudly anathematised the post which had delayed so important a message.

This time there was no doubt about it--and a roguish smile was parting her lips. This emboldened me to ask: "Were these roses as good as the first lot? I got them at a different place."

"Oh, did you send those also? There was no card with them."

"I purposely omitted to enclose one, as I feared you might consider that I was presuming on our slight acquaintance. Besides, I doubted whether you would remember me or had even caught my name."

"I had not."

There was a pause.

"Oh, what must you have thought of me! What must you think of me!" she exclaimed, in tones of deep distress, trying to draw her arm away. But I held her fast.

"Believe me, I entertain for you the greatest respect and admiration. I should never dream of criticising anything you do or might have done."

She shot a grateful glance at me, and seeing we were un.o.bserved I ventured to raise her small gloved hand reverently to my lips. She blushed again, but did not repulse me.

On arriving at the house, I insisted on her lying down, and, hoping the quiet would do her good, we left her alone. On leaving the room, we pa.s.sed Norman pacing up and down outside, like a faithful dog. He did not offer to join us, but remained at his post.

I had not questioned May as to the cause of her fright, fearing to excite her, but I was none the less anxious to know what had occurred.

Luckily, Mrs. Derwent was as eager to enlighten me as I was to learn.

"You know, Doctor Fortescue, how I have tried lately to keep everything away from my daughter which could possibly agitate her. However, when she suggested that she would like to walk to the village I gladly acquiesced, never dreaming that on a quiet country road anything could occur to frighten her, nervous as she was. With the exception of last Sunday, this was the first time since her return from New York that she had been willing to go outside the gate; therefore I was especially glad she should have this little change. I offered to accompany her or rather them (for Mr. Norman, of course, joined us), and we all three started off together. When we had gone some distance from the house, Mr. Norman remembered an important letter which he had left on his writing-table and which he was most anxious should catch the mid-day mail. So he turned back to get it. I noticed at the time that May appeared very reluctant to have him go. I even thought that she was on the point of asking him not to leave her, but I was glad to see that she controlled herself, for her horror of being separated from that young man has seemed to me not only silly, but very compromising. So we walked on alone, but very slowly, so that he could easily overtake us. The road was pretty, the day heavenly, and my shaken spirits were lighter than they had been for some time." Mrs. Derwent paused a moment to wipe her eyes. "Did you happen to notice," she continued, "that clump of bushes near the bend of the road?"

"Certainly."

"Well, just as we were pa.s.sing those I caught sight of a horrid-looking tramp, lying on his back, half hidden by the undergrowth. May was sauntering along swinging her parasol, which she had not opened, as our whole way had lain in the shade. She evidently did not see the fellow, but I watched him get up and follow us on the other side of the bushes.

I was a little frightened, but before I could decide what I had better do he had approached May and said something to her which I was unable to catch. It must have been something very dreadful, for she uttered a piercing shriek, and turning on him like a young tigress. .h.i.t him several times violently over the head with her sunshade. Dropping everything, she fled from the scene. You know the rest."

The last words were spoken a trifle austerely, and I saw that Mrs.

Derwent had not forgotten the position in which she had found her daughter, although she probably considered that that position was entirely due to May's hysterical condition and that I had been an innocent factor in the situation.

"What became of the tramp?" I inquired, eagerly. "I saw no one following your daughter."

"He did not do so. I stood for a moment watching her tear down the road, and when again I remembered the man I found he had disappeared."

"Would you know the fellow, if you saw him again?"

"Certainly! He was an unusually repulsive specimen of his tribe."

As Mrs. Derwent had failed to recognise him, the man could not have been her son, as I had for a moment feared.

"By the way, Doctor, May is still bent on going to New York."

"Well, perhaps it is advisable that she should do so."

"But why?"

"The quiet of the country does not seem to be doing her much good, does it? Let us, therefore, try the excitement of New York, and see what effect that will have. Besides, I am very anxious to have Miss Derwent see some great nerve specialist. I am still a very young pract.i.tioner, and I confess her case baffles me."

"I see that you fear that she is insane!" cried Mrs. Derwent.

"Indeed, I do not," I a.s.sured her, "but I think her nerves are very seriously out of order. If she goes on like this, she will soon be in a bad way. If you wish me to do so, I will find out what specialist I can most easily get hold of, and make arrangements for his seeing your daughter with as little delay as possible."

"Thank you."

My time was now almost up, so I asked to see my patient again, so as to a.s.sure myself that she was none the worse for her fright.

I found her with her eyes open, staring blankly at the ceiling, and, from time to time, her body would still twitch convulsively. However, she welcomed us with a smile, and her pulse was decidedly stronger. It was a terrible trial to me to see that lovely girl lying there, and to feel that, so far, I had been powerless to help her. I thought that, perhaps, if she talked of her recent adventure it would prevent her brooding over it. So, after sympathising with her in a general way, I asked what the tramp had said to terrify her so much. She shook her head feebly.

"I could not make out what he was saying."

I glanced upwards, and caught a look of horror on her mother's face.

"Oh, indeed," I said; "it was just his sudden appearance which frightened you so much?"

"Yes," she answered, wearily. "Oh, I wish I could go to New York," she sighed.

"I have just persuaded your mother to spend a few days there."