The Jewel of Seven Stars by Bram Stoker (ebook and pdf reader .txt) đź“–
- Author: Bram Stoker
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had to hope would be possible; but that first purpose has remained fresh
in my heart, and has grown in intensity, and multiplied itself with
every hour which has passed since then.” His face seemed to soften as
he looked at me; the memory of his own youth was coming back to him
instinctively. After a pause he said:
“I suppose I may take it, too, Malcolm Ross”—the return to the
familiarity of address swept through me with a glorious thrill—“that as
yet you have not made any protestation to my daughter?”
“Not in words, sir.” The arriere pensee of my phrase struck me, not by
its own humour, but through the grave, kindly smile on the father’s
face. There was a pleasant sarcasm in his comment:
“Not in words! That is dangerous! She might have doubted words, or
even disbelieved them.”
“I felt myself blushing to the roots of my hair as I went on:
“The duty of delicacy in her defenceless position; my respect for her
father—I did not know you then, sir, as yourself, but only as her
father—restrained me. But even had not these barriers existed, I should
not have dared in the presence of such grief and anxiety to have
declared myself. Mr. Trelawny, I assure you on my word of honour that
your daughter and I are as yet, on her part, but friends and nothing
more!” Once again he held out his hands, and we clasped each other
warmly. Then he said heartily:
“I am satisfied, Malcolm Ross. Of course, I take it that until I have
seen her and have given you permission, you will not make any
declaration to my daughter—in words,” he added, with an indulgent smile.
But his face became stern again as he went on:
“Time presses; and I have to think of some matters so urgent and so
strange that I dare not lose an hour. Otherwise I should not have been
prepared to enter, at so short a notice and to so new a friend, on the
subject of my daughter’s settlement in life, and of her future
happiness.” There was a dignity and a certain proudness in his manner
which impressed me much.
“I shall respect your wishes, sir!” I said as I went back and opened the
door. I heard him lock it behind me.
When I told Mr. Corbeck that Mr. Trelawny had quite recovered, he began
to dance about like a wild man. But he suddenly stopped, and asked me
to be careful not to draw any inferences, at all events at first, when
in the future speaking of the finding of the lamps, or of the first
visits to the tomb. This was in case Mr. Trelawny should speak to me on
the subject; “as, of course, he will,” he added, with a sidelong look at
me which meant knowledge of the affairs of my heart. I agreed to this,
feeling that it was quite right. I did not quite understand why; but I
knew that Mr. Trelawny was a peculiar man. In no case could one make a
mistake by being reticent. Reticence is a quality which a strong man
always respects.
The manner in which the others of the house took the news of the
recovery varied much. Mrs. Grant wept with emotion; then she hurried
off to see if she could do anything personally, and to set the house in
order for “Master”, as she always called him. The Nurse’s face fell:
she was deprived of an interesting case. But the disappointment was
only momentary; and she rejoiced that the trouble was over. She was
ready to come to the patient the moment she should be wanted; but in the
meantime she occupied herself in packing her portmanteau.
I took Sergeant Daw into the study, so that we should be alone when I
told him the news. It surprised even his iron self-control when I told
him the method of the waking. I was myself surprised in turn by his
first words:
“And how did he explain the first attack? He was unconscious when the
second was made.”
Up to that moment the nature of the attack, which was the cause of my
coming to the house, had never even crossed my mind, except when I had
simply narrated the various occurrences in sequence to Mr. Trelawny.
The Detective did not seem to think much of my answer:
“Do you know, it never occurred to me to ask him!” The professional
instinct was strong in the man, and seemed to supersede everything else.
“That is why so few cases are ever followed out,” he said, “unless our
people are in them. Your amateur detective neer hunts down to the
death. As for ordinary people, the moment things begin to mend, and the
strain of suspense is off them, they drop the matter in hand. It is
like sea-sickness,” he added philosophically after a pause; “the moment
you touch the shore you never give it a thought, but run off to the
buffet to feed! Well, Mr. Ross, I’m glad the case is over; for over it
is, so far as I am concerned. I suppose that Mr. Trelawny knows his own
business; and that now he is well again, he will take it up himself.
Perhaps, however, he will not do anything. As he seemed to expect
something to happen, but did not ask for protection from the police in
any way, I take it that he don’t want them to interfere with an eye to
punishment. we’ll be told officially, I suppose, that it was an
accident, or sleep-walking, or something of the kind, to satisfy the
conscience of our Record Department; and that will be the end. As for
me, I tell you frankly, sir, that it will be the saving of me. I verily
believe I was beginning to get dotty over it all. There were too many
mysteries, that aren’t in my line, for me to be really satisfied as to
either facts or the causes of them. Now I’ll be able to wash my hands
of it, and get back to clean, wholesome, criminal work. Of course, sir,
I’ll be glad to know if you ever do light on a cause of any kind. And
I’ll be grateful if you can ever tell me how the man was dragged out of
bed when the cat bit him, and who used the knife the second time. For
master Silvio could never have done it by himself. But there! I keep
thinking of it still. I must look out and keep a check on myself, or I
shall think of it when I have to keep my mind on other things!”
When Margaret returned from her walk, I met her in the hall. She was
still pale and sad; somehow, I had expected to see her radiant after her
walk. The moment she saw me her eyes brightened, and she looked at me
keenly.
“You have some good news for me?” she said. “Is Father better?”
“He is! Why did you think so?”
“I saw it in your face. I must go to him at once.” She was hurrying
away when I stopped her.
“He said he would send for you the moment he was dressed.”
“He said he would send for me!” she repeated in amazement. “Then he is
awake again, and conscious? I had no idea he was so well as that! O
Malcolm!”
She sat down on the nearest chair and began to cry. I felt overcome
myself. The sight of her joy and emotion, the mention of my own name in
such a way and at such a time, the rush of glorious possibilities all
coming together, quite unmanned me. She saw my emotion, and seemed to
understand. She put out her hand. I held it hard, and kissed it. Such
moments as these, the opportunities of lovers, are gifts of the gods! Up
to this instant, though I knew I loved her, and though I believed she
returned my affection, I had had only hope. Now, however, the
self-surrender manifest in her willingness to let me squeeze her hand,
the ardour of her pressure in return, and the glorious flush of love in
her beautiful, deep, dark eyes as she lifted them to mine, were all the
eloquences which the most impatient or exacting lover could expect or
demand.
No word was spoken; none was needed. Even had I not been pledged to
verbal silence, words would have been poor and dull to express what we
felt. Hand in hand, like two little children, we went up the staircase
and waited on the landing, till the summons from Mr. Trelawny should
come.
I whispered in her ear—it was nicer than speaking aloud and at a greater
distance—how her father had awakened, and what he had said; and all
that had passed between us, except when she herself had been the subject
of conversation.
Presently a bell rang from the room. Margaret slipped from me, and
looked back with warning finger on lip. She went over to her father’s
door and knocked softly.
“Come in!” said the strong voice.
“It is I, Father!” The voice was tremulous with love and hope.
There was a quick step inside the room; the door was hurriedly thrown
open, and in an instant Margaret, who had sprung forward, was clasped in
her father’s arms. There was little speech; only a few broken phrases.
“Father! Dear, dear Father!”
“My child! Margaret! My dear, dear child!”
“O Father, Father! At last! At last!”
Here the father and daughter went into the room together, and the door
closed.
During my waiting for the summons to Mr. Trelawny’s room, which I knew
would come, the time was long and lonely. After the first few moments
of emotional happiness at Margaret’s joy, I somehow felt apart and
alone; and for a little time the selfishness of a lover possessed me.
But it was not for long. Margaret’s happiness was all to me; and in the
conscious sense of it I lost my baser self. Margaret’s last words as
the door closed on them gave the key to the whole situation, as it had
been and as it was. These two proud, strong people, though father and
daughter, had only come to know each other when the girl was grown up.
Margaret’s nature was of that kind which matures early.
The pride and strength of each, and the reticence which was their
corollary, made a barrier at the beginning. Each had respected the
other’s reticence too much thereafter; and the misunderstanding grew to
habit. And so these two loving hearts, each of which yearned for
sympathy from the other, were kept apart. But now all was well, and in
my heart of hearts I rejoiced that at last Margaret was happy. Whilst I
was still musing on the subject, and dreaming dreams of a personal
nature, the door was opened, and Mr. Trelawny beckoned to me.
“Come in, Mr. Ross!” he said cordially, but with a certain formality
which I dreaded. I entered the room, and he closed the door again. He
held out his hand, and I put mine in it. He did not let it go, but
still held it as he drew me over toward his daughter. Margaret looked
from me to him, and back again; and her eyes fell. When I was close to
her, Mr. Trelawny let go my hand, and, looking his daughter straight in
the face, said:
“If things are as I fancy, we shall not have any secrets between us.
Malcolm Ross knows
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