CHAPTER XVIII
DOCTOR BYRNE ANALYSES
In the room which had been assigned to his use Doctor Randall Byrne satdown to an unfinished letter and began to write.
"Dinner has interrupted me, my dear Loughburne. I have dined oppositeMiss Cumberland--only the two of us at a great table--with a widesilence around us--and the Chinese cook padding to and fro from thekitchen. Have I told you of that room? No, I believe that I have made nomore than casual mention of my environment here, for reasons which arepatent. But to-night I wished that you might look in upon the scene.Along the walls hang a rope with which Mr. Cumberland won a roping andtieing contest in his youth--a feat upon which he prides himself highly;at another place hang the six-shooters of a notorious desperado, takenfrom his dead body; there is the sombrero of a Mexican guerilla chiefbeside the picture of a prize bull, and an oil painting of Mr.Cumberland at middle age adjoins an immense calendar on which isportrayed the head of a girl in bright colours--a creature with amazingquantities of straw-coloured hair. The table itself is of such size thatit is said all the guests at a round-up--a festival of note in thesebarbaric regions--can be easily seated around it. On one side of thistable I sat--and on the other side sat the girl, as far away as if anentire room had separated us.
"Before going down to the meal I had laid aside my glasses, for I haveobserved that spectacles, though often beneficial to the sight, are notalways equally commendable in the opinion of women; and it shouldassuredly be one's endeavour to become agreeable to those about us.
"Be it noted at this point, my dear Loughburne, that I have observedpeculiar properties in the eyes of Miss Cumberland. Those of all otherhumans and animals that have fallen under my observance were remarkableonly for their use in seeing, whereas the eyes of Miss Cumberland seempeculiarly designed to be _seen_. This quality I attribute to thefollowing properties of the said eyes. First, they are in size wellbeyond the ordinary. Secondly, they are of a colour restful to behold.It is, indeed, the colour of the deep, blue evening sky into which onemay stare for an incalculable distance.
"As I have said, then, I noted a glow in these eyes, though they were soimmediately lowered that I could not be sure. I felt, however, anextraordinary warmth beneath my collar, the suffusion of blood passingswiftly towards my forehead. I inquired if she had smiled and for whatreason; whereat she immediately assured me that she had not, and smiledwhile making the assurance.
"I was now possessed of an unusual agitation, augmented by the mannerin which Miss Cumberland looked at me out of twinkling but not unkindlyeyes. What could have caused this perturbation I leave to yourscientific keenness in analysis.
"I discovered an amazing desire to sing, which indecorous impulse I, ofcourse, immediately inhibited and transferred the energy intoconversation.
"'The weather,' said I. 'has been uncommonly delightful to-day.'
"I observed that Miss Cumberland greeted this sentence with anothersmile.
"Presently she remarked: 'It has seemed a bit windy to me.'
"I recalled that it is polite to agree with ladies and instantlysubjoined with the greatest presence of mind: 'Quite right! A mostabominably stormy day!'
"At this I was astonished to be greeted by another burst of laughter,even more pronounced than the others.
"'Doctor Byrne,' she said, 'you are absolutely unique.'
"'It is a point,' I said earnestly, 'which I shall immediately set aboutto change.'
"At this she raised both hands in a gesture of protest, so that I couldobserve her eyes shining behind the slender, brown fingers--observe,Loughburne, that white skin is falsely considered a thing of beauty inwomen--and she remarked, still laughing: 'Indeed, you must not change!'
"I replied with an adroit change of front: 'Certainly not.'
"For some mysterious reason the girl was again convulsed and broke offher laughter to cry in a voice of music which still tingles through me:'Doctor Byrne, you are delightful!'
"I should gladly have heard her say more upon this point, but it beingone which I could not gracefully dispute with her, and being unwillingthat she should lapse into one of her usual silences, I ventured tochange the subject from myself to her.
"'Miss Cumberland,' I said, 'I remark with much pleasure that theanxiety which has recently depressed you seems now in some measurelessened. I presume Mr. Daniels will be successful in his journey,though what the return of Mr. Daniels accompanied by Mr. Barry canaccomplish, is, I confess, beyond my computation. Yet you are happier inthe prospect of Mr. Barry's return?'
"I asked this question with a falling heart, though I remain ignorant ofthe cause to which I can attribute my sudden depression. Still moremysterious was the delight which I felt when the girl shook her headslowly and answered: 'Even if he comes, it will mean nothing.'
"I said: 'Then let us intercept him and send him back!'
"She cried out, as if I had hurt her: 'No, no, no!' and twisted herfingers together in pain. She added at once: 'What of poor Dad?'
"'Your father,' I confessed, 'had for the moment slipped my mind.'
"It seemed to me, however, that it was not wholly on her father'saccount that she was grieved. She wished Mr. Barry to return, and yetshe dreaded his coming. It was most mysterious. However, I had startedMiss Cumberland thinking. She stopped eating and began to stare beforeher. Presently she said: 'It is strange that we don't hear from Buck.What can have held him so long?'
"I regretted extremely that I had introduced the topic and cast about inmy mind for another, but could not find one. I then expressed regretthat I had revived her worries, but received in reply a smile in whichthere was no life: the very colour had died out from her cheeks. And shesat during the rest of the meal without speaking a word.
"Afterwards I went in with her to see Mr. Cumberland. His condition wasnot materially changed. The marvel of it grows upon me more and more. Itis a freak which defies medical science. There lies a man at the pointof dissolution. His body has died of old age, and yet the life principleremains. He does not eat--at least, the nourishment he takes is wholelynegligible. But he still has energy. To be sure, he rarely moves aboutand his body remains practically inert. But we must never forget thatthe mind is a muscle and calls for continual rebuilding. And the mindof Mr. Cumberland is never inactive. It works ceaselessly. It will notpermit him to sleep. For three days, now, as far as I can tell, he hasnot closed his eyes. It might be assumed that he is in a state oftrance, but by a series of careful experiments, I have ascertained thathe is constantly thinking in the most vigourous fashion.
"What does it mean? There is in the man a flame-like quality; somethingis burning in him every instant. But on what does the flame feed? I knowthat material cannot be created and that energy means dissolution ofmatter: but why does not the life of Joseph Cumberland dissolve?
"The subject possesses me. I dare not ponder it too steadily or my brainbegins to whirl. I make no progress towards any reasonable solution. Ionly feel that I am living in the presence of an astounding mystery.
"Strange thoughts possess me. What is the fire that burns but does notconsume Joe Cumberland? What is the thing in the wandering Dan Barrywhich Kate Cumberland fears and yet waits for? Why was it that Danielstrembled with dread when he started out to find a man who, by his ownprofession, he holds to be his best friend?
"You see how the mystery assumes shape? It is before me. It is in myhand. And yet I cannot grasp its elements.
"The story of a man, a horse, and a dog. What is the story?
"To-day I wandered about the great corrals and came to one which wasbounded by a fence of extraordinary height. It was a small corral, butall the posts were of great size, and the rails were as large asordinary posts. I inquired what strange beasts could be kept in such apen, and the man-of-all-work of whom I asked replied: 'That's Satan'scorral.'
"I guessed at some odd story. 'The devil?' I cried, 'Do they fence thedevil in a corral?'
"'Oh, ay,' said the fellow, 'he's a devil, right
enough. If we'd let himrun with the other hosses he'd have cut 'em to ribbons. That's what kindof a devil he is!'
"A story of a man, a horse, and a dog. I think I have seen the greatchain which bound the dog. Was that the place where they kept the horse?
"And, if so, what bonds are used for the man? And what sort of man canhe be? One of gigantic size, no doubt, to mate his horse and his dog. Afierce and intractable nature, for otherwise Kate Cumberland could notdread him. And yet a man of singular values, for all this place seems towait for his return. I catch the fire of expectancy. It eats into myflesh. Dreams haunt me night and day. What will be the end?
"Now I am going down to see Mr. Cumberland again. I know what I shallsee--the flickering of the fire behind his eyes. The lightning glances,the gentle, rare voice, the wasted face; and by him will be KateCumberland; and they both will seem to be listening, listening--forwhat?
"No more to-night. But, Loughburne, you should be here; I feel that thelike of this has never been upon the earth.
"Byrne."