England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Short stories, English
Within doors a fresh surprise awaited her. She found the table laid
for lunch, and laid for three. "Father!" she cried, in a tone of
vexation, "is he going to take his meals with us?"
"Where else is he to take them?" the doctor answered gruffly, looking
up from the old bureau at which he was writing. "Would you send him to
the servants? If he is left alone in his room, he will go mad in
earnest."
He spoke gruffly because he knew he was wrong. He knew no more of the
tall gentleman, or of his reason for doing what he had done, than he
knew of the man in the moon. That the stranger dressed and spoke like
a gentleman, that there was no mark on his linen, that he had a watch
and money in his pockets, and that he had tried to take his life--this
was the sum of the doctor's knowledge; and he could not feel that
these matters rendered the stranger a fit companion for his daughter.
But the doctor had not strength of mind to grapple with the
difficulty, and he let things slide.
Pleasance would not discuss the question, but at the meal she sat
silent and cold. The doctor was uncomfortable, and talked jerkily. A
shadow--but it seemed more than temporary--darkened the stranger's
face. At the earliest possible moment Pleasance withdrew.
When she came down she found that the tall gentleman had retired to
his room, and she saw nothing more of him that evening. Next day, the
post brought a letter from Woolley, postponing his return for a day or
two, and this sent the doctor on his rounds in high spirits. Pleasance
herself, moving upstairs about her domestic business, felt more
charitable. There might be something in what her father said about
leaving the poor man to himself. She would go down presently, and talk
to him, preserving a due distance.
She had scarcely made up her mind to this when she chanced to look
through the window, and saw the stranger walking slowly across the
lawn. She watched him for a moment in idle curiosity, wondering in
what class he had moved, and what had brought him to this. Then she
noticed the direction he was taking, and on the instant a dreadful
fear flashed into the girl's mind, and made her heart stand still.
Below the lawn the rivulet formed a pool among the trees He was going
that way, glancing sombrely about him as he went.
Pleasance did not stay to think--to add up the chances. She flung the
door open, and ran down the stairs. She reached the lawn. He was not
to be seen, but she knew which way he had gone, and she darted down
the path that led to the water. She turned the corner--she saw him! He
was standing gazing into the dark pool, his back towards her, in an
attitude of profound melancholy. She ran on unfaltering until she
reached him, and laid her hand on his arm.
"What are you doing?" she cried, on the impulse of her great fear.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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