CHAPTER XII
THE GHOST
As soon as she had reached her room Gwendolen Scott sat down seriouslyby the little writing-table. Here was the paper and here was the pen,but the composition of the letter to the Warden was not even projectedin her mind. The thoughts would not come.
"Dear Dr. Middleton," Gwen began with complete satisfaction. That wasall right. After some thought she went on. "Mother asks me to give youher letter!" No, of course, that wouldn't do. Her mother wouldn't likehim to know that she ordered the letter to be shown to him. Everythingon the slip of paper was secret. It was not the first time that Gwen hadreceived private slips of paper.
Gwen was obliged to tear up the sheet and begin again: "Dear Dr.Middleton,"----
Now what would she say? It would take her all night. Of course, Louiselooked in at the door and muttered something volubly.
"I can manage myself," called out Gwen from her table. "I'm not ready,and shan't be for hours."
Louise went away. Then it occurred to Gwen that she ought to have askedLouise to come back again in a few minutes, and take the letter. Shereally must try and get the letter written. So putting all thedetermination she was capable of into a supreme effort, she began: "Ihope mother won't mind my showing you this letter." Gwen had heard hermother often say with complete self-satisfaction: "Only a fool is afraidto tell a useful lie, but only a fool tells one that isn't necessary!"Indeed, Lady Belinda thought the second half of her maxim a bit clever,a bit penetrating, and Gwen had listened to it smiling and feeling thatsome reflected glory from her mother's wit was falling upon her, becauseshe understood how clever it was. Now the implied untruth that Gwen wasputting upon paper seemed to her very useful, and it looked satisfactorywhen written.
She went on: "I hope it wasn't wrong of me to tell what you said. Youdidn't say tell, but I didn't know what to do, as I am afraid to speakif you don't speak to me. You are so awfully, awfully kind that I know Ioughtn't to be afraid, but I am. Do forgive stupid little me, and bekind again to
"Your solotory little
"GWENDOLEN SCOTT."
The spelling of "solitary" had caused Gwen much mental strain, and evenwhen the intellectual conflict was over and the word written, it did notlook quite right. Why had she not said "lonely"? But that, too, had itsdifficulties.
However, the letter was now finished. Louise had taken her at her wordand had not returned. Gwen looked at her watch. It was past a quarter toeleven. At this hour she knew she mustn't ring the bell for a servant.She could not search for Louise, she would be in Lady Dashwood's room.She must take the letter herself to the library. She put the letter intoan envelope and addressed it to Dr. Middleton. Then she added hermother's letter and sealed the whole.
Then she peeped out of her door and listened! All the lights were fullon and there was no sound of any one moving.
The Warden very likely hadn't yet returned. She would try and find out.She slipped quietly down the steps, and with her feet on the thickcarpeted landing she waited. She could see that the hall below wasbrightly lighted, and all was still. She listened intently outside thedrawing-room door. Not a sound. She might have time--if he really hadn'tarrived.
She fled across the head of the staircase and was at the door of thelibrary in a second of time. There she paused. No, there was no soundbehind her! No one was coming upstairs! No one was opening the frontdoor or moving in the hall! But it was just possible that he had alreadyarrived and was sitting in the library. He might be sitting there--andlooking severe! That would be alarming! Though--and here Gwen suddenlydecided that for all his severity she infinitely preferred hisappearance to that of a man like Mr. Boreham--Mr. Boreham's beard wassurely the limit! She listened at the door. She laid her cheek againstit and listened. No sound! The whole house illuminated and yet silent!There was something strange about it! She would peep in and if there wasno light within--except, of course, firelight--she would know instantlythat the Warden wasn't there. It would only take her a flash of a minuteto run in, throw the letter down on the desk, and fly for all she wasworth.
She turned the handle of the door slowly and noiselessly, and pushedever so little. The door opened just an inch or two anddisclosed--darkness! Except for a glimmer--just a faint glimmer oflight!
He could not have come in, he could not possibly be there, and yet Gwenhad a curious impression that the room was not empty. But empty it mustbe. She pushed the door quietly open and peeped in. The fire was burningon the hearth in solemn silence, a cavernous red. There was nobody inthe room, and yet, as Gwen stole in and passed the projecting book-caseopposite the door, against which she had stumbled that evening ofevenings, she felt that she was not alone. It was a strange unpleasantfeeling. There she was standing in the full space of that shadowy room.Books, books were everywhere--books that seemed to her keeping secretsin their pages and purposely not saying anything. The room was too long,too full of dead things--like books--too full of shadows. The heavycurtains looked black, the desk, its chair standing with its back to thefire--had a look of expecting to be occupied and waiting. She would haveliked to have thrown the letter on to the desk instead of having tocross the few feet that separated her from the desk. The silence of theroom was alarming! Something seemed to be ready to jump at her! Wassomething in the room? Gwen made a dash for the desk and threw down theletter. As she did so, a sudden thrill passed up her spine and stiffenedher hair. She was _not_ alone! There _was_ somebody in the room, ashadow, an outline, at the far end of the room against one of thecurtains--a man, a strange figure, looking straight at her! He wasstanding, bending forward but motionless against the curtain, andstaring with eyes that had no life in them--at her!
Gwen gave a piercing scream and rushed blindly for the door. She dashedagainst the projecting book-case, striking her head with some violence.She tried to cry for help, but could not, the room swam in her vision.She struck out her arms to shield herself, and as she did so she feltrather than heard some one coming to her rescue, some one who flashed onthe lights--and she flung herself into protecting arms.
"It's all right, it's all right," said the Warden. "What made you cryout? Don't be frightened, child!" and he half led, half carried hertowards a chair near the fire.
"No, no!" sobbed Gwen, shrilly. "Not here--no, take me away--awayfrom----"
"From what?" asked Lady Dashwood quietly, at her elbow. "What is thematter, Gwen? You mustn't scream for nothing--what has frightened you?"
Gwen groaned aloud and hid her face in the Warden's arm.
"Something in this room has frightened you?" he asked.
Gwen sobbed assent.
"There is nothing in this room," said Lady Dashwood. "Put her on thechair, Jim. She must tell us what it is she is afraid of. Come, Gwen!"
Although Gwendolen submitted to the commanding voice of Lady Dashwoodand allowed herself to be placed in the chair, she still grasped theWarden's arm and hid her face in it.
"What frightened you, Gwen?" asked Lady Dashwood. "No harm can come toyou--we are by you. Pull yourself together and speak plainly andquietly."
Gwen uttered some half-incoherent sounds--one only being intelligible tothe two who were bending over her.
"A man!" said the Warden, glancing round with surprise.
"No man is in the room," said Lady Dashwood. "Did he go out? Did you seehim go out?"
Gwen raised her face slightly.
"No. At the end there--looking!" and again she burst into uncontrollablesobs.
The Warden released his arm and walked to the farther end of the room,and Gwen grasped Lady Dashwood's arm and clung to her. The two womencould hear the Warden as he walked across to the farther end of theroom.
Gwen dared not look, but Lady Dashwood turned her head, supporting thegirl's head as she did so on her shoulder.
The Warden had reached the window. He opened the curtains and lookedbehind them, then he pulled one s
harply back, and into the lighted roomcame a flood of pale moonlight, and through the chequered window panescould be seen the moon herself riding full above a slowly drifting massof cloud.
"There is nothing in the room. If there were we should see it," saidLady Dashwood quietly, and she turned the girl's face towards themoonlight. "Look for yourself, Gwen. Your fears are quite foolish, mydear, and you must try and control them."
So peremptory was Lady Dashwood's voice that the girl, still resting herhead on the protecting shoulder, slightly opened her eyelids and saw themoonlight, the drawn curtains and the Warden standing looking back atthem.
"You can see for yourself that there is nothing here," he said.
It was true, there was nothing there--there wasn't _now_: and for thefirst time Gwen was conscious of pain in her head and put up her hand.There was a lump where she had knocked it, the lump was sore.
"Why, you have hurt your head, Gwen," said Lady Dashwood. "That explainseverything. A blow on the head is just the thing to make you think yousee something that isn't there! Come now, we'll go upstairs and putsomething on that bruised head, and make it well again."
"I struck my head after I saw _it_," said Gwen, laying a stress upon theword "it," averting her eyes from the moonlight and rising with the helpof Lady Dashwood.
"You may have thought so," said Lady Dashwood. "Come we mustn't stophere. Dr. Middleton probably has letters to write. Jim, good night. I'msorry you have been so much disturbed, after a hard day's work."
The tone in which Lady Dashwood made her last remark and her manner inleading Gwendolen out of the library, was that of a person who has"closed" a correspondence, terminated an interview. The affair of thescream and fright was over. It was a perfectly unnecessary incident tohave occurred in a sane working day, so she had apologised for itsintrusion. Why Gwendolen was in the library at all was a question thatwas of no consequence. It certainly was not in search of a book on whichto spend the midnight oil. She _was_ there--that was all.
When they had gone, the Warden stood for some moments in the librarypondering. He had shut the door. The curtains he had forgotten to pullback, and now he discovered his omission and went to the farther end ofthe room.
The opposite wall, the wall of the court, was just tipped with silver.Distant spires and gables were silver grey. The clouds were driftingover the city westwards, and as the moon rode higher and higher in thesouthern sky, so the clouds sped faster before it, and behind it layclear unfathomable spaces in the east.
The Warden pulled the heavy curtain across the window again, and walkedto the fireplace. Outside was the infinite universe--its immensity awfulto contemplate! Inside was the narrow security of the lighted room inwhich he worked and thought and would work and think--for a few years!
For a few years?
How did he know that he should have even a few years in which to thinkand work for his College?
The Warden went to the fire and stood looking down into it, his handsclasped behind his back.
The girl he was pledged to marry, if she wished to marry him, mightwreck his life! She had only just a few moments ago showed signs ofbeing weakly hysterical. "Helpful to the College!" His sister'squestion had filled him with a sudden new ominous thought.
What about the College? He had forgotten his duty to the College!
"My marriage is my own concern," he was blurting out to himselfmiserably, as he looked at the fire. But the inevitable answer wasalready drumming in his ears--his own answer: "A man's action is not hisown concern, and so deeply is every man involved in the life of thecommunity in which he lives, that even his thoughts are not his ownconcern."
The Warden paced up and down.
There were letters lying on his desk unopened, unread. He would notattempt to answer any of them to-night. He could not attend to them,while these words were beating in his brain: "Do you think she will behelpful to the College?"
His College! More to him than anything else, more than his duty; hishope, his pride! And the College meant also the sacred memory of thosewho had fallen in the war, all the glorious hopeful youth that hadsacrificed itself! And he had forgotten the College!
He dared not think any longer. He must wrestle with his thoughts. Hemust force them aside and wait, till the moment came when he must act.That moment might not come! Possibly it might not! He would go to bedand try and sleep. He must not let thoughts so bitter and so deadlyoverwhelm him, eating into the substance of his brain, where they couldbreed and batten on the finest tissues and breed again.
He was looking at his desk and saw that one letter had tumbled from iton to the floor by his chair. He went across and picked it up. It wasaddressed in a big straggling hand--and had not come by post. He tore itopen. It was from Gwendolen Scott. This was why she had come into thelibrary. Without moving from the position where he stood he read itthrough.