Flamsted quarries Part 39

"Aurora," he grasped her firmly by the arm, "give me the key."

She handed it to him; he opened the door; led her in; called loudly for Ellen; and when the frightened girl came hurrying down from her room, he bade her see to Mrs. Googe while he went for the doctor.

XVII

"The trouble is she has borne up too long."

The doctor was talking to Father Honore while untying the horse from the hitching-post at the kitchen porch.

"She has stood it longer than I thought she could; but without the necessary sleep even her strong const.i.tution and splendid physique can't supply sufficient nerve force to withstand such a strain--it's fearful.

Something had to give somewhere. Practically she hasn't slept for over three weeks, and, what's more, she won't sleep till--she knows one way or the other. I can't give her opiates, for the strain has weakened her heart--I mean functionally." He stepped into the carriage. "You haven't heard anything since yesterday morning, have you?"

"No; but I'm inclined to think that now he has put them off the track and got them over the border, he will make for New York again. It's my belief he will try to get out of the country by that door instead of by way of Canada."

"I never thought of that." He gathered up the reins, and, leaning forward from the hood, looked earnestly into the priest's eyes. "Make her talk if you can--it's her only salvation. She hasn't opened her lips to me, and till she speaks out--you understand--I can do nothing. The fever is only the result of the nerve-strain."

"I wish it were in my power to help her. I may as well tell you now--but I'd like it to remain between ourselves, of course I've told the Colonel--that I determined last night to go down to New York and see if I can accomplish anything. I shall have two private detectives there to work with me. You know the city agency has its men out there already?"

"No, I didn't. I thought all the force was centred here in this State and on the Canada line. It strikes me that if she could know you were going--and for what--she might speak. You might try that, and let me know the result."

"I will."

The doctor drove off. Father Honore stood for a few minutes on the back porch; he was thinking concentratedly:--How best could he approach the stricken mother and acquaint her with his decision to search for her son?

He was roused by the sound of a gentle voice speaking in French:

"Good-morning, Father Honore; how is Mrs. Googe? I have just heard of her illness."

It was Sister Ste. Croix from the sisterhood home in The Gore.

The crisp morning air tinged with a slight color her wrinkled and furrowed cheeks; her eyelids, also, were horribly wrinkled, as could be plainly seen when they drooped heavily over the dark blue eyes. Yet Sister Ste. Croix was still in middle life.

"There is every cause for great anxiety, I grieve to say. The doctor has just gone."

"Who is with her, do you know?"

"Mrs. Caukins, so Ellen says."

"Do you think she would object to having me nurse her for a while? She has been so lovely to me ever since I came here, and in one way and another we have been much together. I have tried again and again to see her during these dreadful weeks, but she has steadily refused to see me or any of us--just shut herself out from her friends."

"I wish she would have you about her; it would do her good; and surely Mrs. Caukins can't leave her household cares to stay with her long, nor can she be running back and forth to attend to her. I am going to make the attempt to see her, and if I succeed I will tell her that you are ready to come at any minute--and only waiting to come to her."

"Do; and won't you tell Ellen I will come down and see her this afternoon? Poor girl, she has been so terrified with the events of these last weeks that I have feared she would not stay. If I'm here, I feel sure she would remain."

"If Mrs. Googe will not heed your request, I do hope you will make it your mission work to induce Ellen to stay."

"Indeed, I will; I thought she might stay the more willingly if I were with her."

"I'm sure of it," Father Honore said heartily.

"Are you going in now?"

"Yes."

"Well, please tell Ellen that if Mrs. Googe wants me, she is to come up at once to tell me. Good morning."

She walked rapidly down the road beside the house. Father Honore turned to look after her. How many, many lives there were like that!--unselfish, sacrificing, loving, helpful, yet unknown, unthought of. He watched the slight figure, the shoulders bowed already a little, but the step still firm and light, till it pa.s.sed from sight. Then he entered the kitchen and encountered Mrs. Caukins.

"I never was so glad to see any living soul as I am you, Father Honore,"

was her greeting; she looked up from the lemon she was squeezing; "I don't dare to leave her till she gets a regular nurse. It's enough to break your heart to see her lying there staring straight before her and not saying a word--not even to the doctor. I told the Colonel when he was here a little while ago that I couldn't stand it much longer; it's getting on my nerves--if she'd only say _something_, I don't care what!"

She paused in concocting the lemonade to wipe her eyes on a corner of her ap.r.o.n.

"Mrs. Caukins, I wish you would say to Mrs. Googe that I am here and would like to speak with her before I leave town this afternoon. You might say I expect to be away for a few days and it is necessary that I should see her now."

"You don't mean to say you're going to leave us right in the lurch, 'fore we know anything about Champney!--Why, what will the Colonel do without you? You've been his right hand man. He's all broken up; that one night's work nearly killed him, and he hasn't seemed himself since--"

Father Honore interrupted this flow of ejaculatory torrent.

"I've spoken to the Colonel about my going, Mrs. Caukins. He agrees with me that no harm can come of my leaving here for a few days just at this time."

"I'll tell her, Father Honore; I'm going up this minute with the lemonade; but it's ten to one she won't see you; she wouldn't see the rector last week--oh, dear me!" She groaned and left the room.

She was back again in a few minutes, her eyes wide with excitement.

"She says you can come up, Father Honore, and you'd better go up quick before she gets a chance to change her mind."

He went without a word. When Mrs. Caukins heard him on the stair and caught the sound of his rap on the door, she turned to Ellen and spoke emphatically, but with trembling lips:

"I don't believe the archangel Gabriel himself could look at you more comforting than Father Honore does; if _he_ can't help her, the Lord himself can't, and I don't mean that for blasphemy either. Poor soul--poor soul"--she wiped the tears that were rolling down her cheeks,--"here I am the mother of eight children and never had to lose a night's sleep on account of their not doing right, and here's Aurora with her one and can't sleep nor eat for the shame and trouble he's brought on her and all of us--for I'm a Googe. Life seems sometimes to get topsy-turvy, and I for one can't make head nor tail of it. The Colonel's always talking about Nature's 'levelling up,' but I don't see any 'levelling'; seems to me as if she was turning everything up on edge pretty generally.--Give me that rice I saw in the pantry, Ellen; I'm going to make her a little broth; I've got a nice foreshoulder piece at home, and it will be just the thing."

Ellen, rejoicing in such talkative companions.h.i.+p, after the three weeks of dreadful silence in the house, did her bidding, at the same time taking occasion to ask some questions on her own part, among them one which set Mrs. Caukins speculating for a week: "Who do you suppose killed Rag?"

Aurora was in bed, but propped to a sitting position by pillows. When Father Honore entered she started forward.

"Have you heard anything?" Her voice was weak from physical exhaustion.

"No, Mrs. Googe--"

She sank back on the pillows; he drew a chair to the bedside.

"--But I have decided to go down to New York and search for myself. I have a feeling he is there, not in Maine or Canada; and I know that city from Was.h.i.+ngton Heights to the Battery."

"You think he'll be found?" She could scarcely articulate the words; some terror had her by the throat; her eyes showed deadly fear.

"Yes, I think he will."

"But she won't do anything--I--I went to her--"