Artists -- Fiction; England -- Fiction; Love stories; Rich people -- Fiction
She took off her hat and leaned back against the cushions. She had been
travelling night and day, in one feverish whirl of haste, and at last
she had brought herself within reach of Deryck's hand and Deryck's safe
control. The turmoil of her soul was stilled; a great calm took its
place, and Jane dropped quietly off to sleep. "Your heavenly Father
knoweth that ye have need of these things."
* * * * *
Washed and brushed and greatly refreshed, Jane stood at the window of
her compartment as the train steamed into Charing Cross.
The doctor was stationed exactly opposite the door when her carriage
came to a standstill; mere chance, and yet, to Jane, it seemed so like
him to have taken up his position precisely at the right spot on that
long platform. An enthusiastic lady patient had once said of Deryck
Brand, with more accuracy of definition than of grammar: "You know, he
is always so very JUST THERE." And this characteristic of the doctor
had made him to many a very present help in time of trouble.
He was through the line of porters and had his hand upon the handle of
Jane's door in a moment. Standing at the window, she took one look at
the firm lean face, now alight with welcome, and read in the kind,
steadfast eyes of her childhood's friend a perfect sympathy and
comprehension. Then she saw behind him her aunt's footman, and her own
maid, who had been given a place in the duchess's household. In another
moment she was on the platform and her hand was in Deryck's.
"That is right, dear," he said. "All fit and well, I can see. Now hand
over your keys. I suppose you have nothing contraband? I telephoned the
duchess to send some of her people to meet your luggage, and not to
expect you herself until dinner time, as you were taking tea with us.
Was that right? This way. Come outside the barrier. What a rabble! All
wanting to break every possible rule and regulation, and each trying to
be the first person in the front row. Really the patience and good
temper of railway officials should teach the rest of mankind a lesson."
The doctor, talking all the time, piloted Jane through the crowd;
opened the door of a neat electric brougham, helped her in, took his
seat beside her, and they glided swiftly out into the Strand, and
turned towards Trafalgar Square.
"Well," said the doctor, "Niagara is a big thing isn't it? When people
say to me, 'Were you not disappointed in Niagara? WE were!' I feel
tempted to wish, for one homicidal moment, that the earth would open
her mouth and swallow them up. People who can be disappointed in
Niagara, and talk about it, should no longer be allowed to crawl on the
face of the earth. And how about the 'Little Mother'? Isn't she worth
knowing? I hope she sent me her love. And New York harbour! Did you
ever see anything to equal it, as you steam away in the sunset?"
Jane gave a sudden sob; then turned to him, dry-eyed.
"Is there no hope, Deryck?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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