IN DERYCK'S SAFE CONTROL
The white cliffs of Dover gradually became more solid and distinct, until at length they rose from the sea, a strong white wall, emblem of the undeniable purity of England, the stainless honour and integrity of her throne, her church, her parliament, her courts of justice, and her dealings at home and abroad, whether with friend or foe."Strength and whiteness," thought Jane as she paced the steamer's deck; and after a two years' absence her heart went out to her native land.Then Dover Castle caught her eye, so beautiful in the pearly light of that spring afternoon.Her mind leaped to enjoyment, then fell back stunned by the blow of quick remembrance, and Jane shut her eyes.
All beautiful sights brought this pang to her heart since the reading of that paragraph on the piazza of the Mena House Hotel.
An hour after she had read it, she was driving down the long straight road to Cairo; embarked at Alexandria the next day; landed at Brindisi, and this night and day travelling had brought her at last within sight of the shores of England.In a few minutes she would set foot upon them, and then there would be but two more stages to her journey.For, from the moment she started, Jane never doubted her ultimate destination,--the room where pain and darkness and despair must be waging so terrible a conflict against the moral courage, the mental sanity, and the instinctive hold on life of the man she loved.
That she was going to him, Jane knew; but she felt utterly unable to arrange how or in what way her going could be managed.That it was a complicated problem, her common sense told her; though her yearning arms and aching bosom cried out: "O God, is it not simple? Blind and alone! MY Garth!"But she knew an unbiased judgment, steadier than her own, must solve the problem; and that her surest way to Garth lay through the doctor's consulting-room.So she telegraphed to Deryck from Paris, and at present her mind saw no further than Wimpole Street.
At Dover she bought a paper, and hastily scanned its pages as she walked along the platform in the wake of the capable porter who had taken possession of her rugs and hand baggage.In the personal column she found the very paragraph she sought.
"We regret to announce that Mr.Garth Dalmain still lies in a most precarious condition at his house on Deeside, Aberdeenshire, as a result of the shooting accident a fortnight ago.His sight is hopelessly gone, but the injured parts were progressing favourably, and all fear of brain complications seemed over.During the last few days, however, a serious reaction from shock has set in, and it has been considered necessary to summon Sir Deryck Brand, the well-known nerve specialist, in consultation with the oculist and the local practitioner in charge of the case.There is a feeling of wide-spread regret and sympathy in those social and artistic circles where Mr.Dalmain was so well-known and so deservedly popular.""Oh, thank you, m'lady," said the efficient porter when he had ascertained, by a rapid glance into his palm, that Jane's half-crown was not a penny.He had a sick young wife at home, who had been ordered extra nourishment, and just as the rush on board began, he had put up a simple prayer to the Heavenly Father "who knoweth that ye have need of these things," asking that he might catch the eye of a generous traveller.He felt he had indeed been "led" to this plain, brown-faced, broad-shouldered lady, when he remembered how nearly, after her curt nod from a distance had engaged him, he had responded to the blandishments of a fussy little woman, with many more bags and rugs, and a parrot cage, who was now doling French coppers out of the window of the next compartment."Seven pence 'apenny of this stuff ain't much for carrying all that along, IDON'T think!" grumbled his mate; and Jane's young porter experienced the double joy of faith confirmed, and willing service generously rewarded.
A telegraph boy walked along the train, saying: "Honrubble Jain Champyun" at intervals.Jane heard her name, and her arm shot out of the window.
"Here, my boy! It is for me."
She tore it open.It was from the doctor.
"Welcome home.Just back from Scotland.Will meet you Charing Cross, and give you all the time you want.Have coffee at Dover.DERYCK."Jane gave one hard, tearless sob of thankfulness and relief.She had been so lonely.
Then she turned to the window."Here, somebody! Fetch me a cup of coffee, will you?"Coffee was the last thing she wanted; but it never occurred to any one to disobey the doctor, even at a distance.
The young porter, who still stood sentry at the door of Jane's compartment, dashed off to the refreshment room; and, just as the train began to move, handed a cup of steaming coffee and a plate of bread-and-butter in at the window.
