CHAPTER LXVIII
A fortnight or so afterwards, when the public excitement occasioned bythe Caresfoot tragedy had been partially eclipsed by a particularlythrilling child-murder and suicide, a change for the better took placein Angela's condition. One night, after an unusually violent fit ofraving, she suddenly went to sleep about twelve o'clock, and slept allthat night and all the next day. About half-past nine on the followingevening, the watchers in her room--namely, Pigott, Mr. Fraser, and Dr.Williamson, who was trying to make out what this deep sleep meant--were suddenly astonished at seeing her sit up in her bed in alistening attitude, as though she could hear something that interestedher intensely, for the webbing that tied her down had been temporarilyremoved, and then cry, in a tone of the most living anguish, and yetwith a world of passionate remonstrance in her voice,
"_Arthur, Arthur!_"
Then she sank down again for a few minutes. It was the same night thatMildred and Arthur sat together on the deck of the _Evening Star_.Presently she opened her eyes, and the doctor saw that there was nolonger any madness in them, only great trouble. Her glance first fellupon Pigott.
"Run," she said, "run and stop him; he cannot have gone far. Bring himback to me; quick, or he will be gone."
"Who do you mean, dear?"
"Arthur, of course--Arthur."
"Hush, Angela!" said Mr. Fraser, "he has been gone a long time; youhave been very ill."
She did not say anything, but turned her face to the pillow and wept,apparently as much from exhaustion as from any other cause, and thendropped off to sleep again.
"Her reason is saved," said Dr. Williamson, as soon as they wereoutside the door.
"Thanks be to Providence and you, doctor."
"Thanks to Providence alone. It is a case in which I could do littleor nothing. It is a most merciful deliverance. All that you have to donow is to keep her perfectly quiet, and, above all, do not let herfather come near her at present. I will call in and tell him. LadyBellamy? Oh! about the same. She is a strange woman; she nevercomplains, and rarely speaks--though twice I have heard her break outshockingly. There will never be any alternation in her case till thelast alteration. Good-bye; I will look round to-morrow."
After this, Angela's recovery was, comparatively speaking, rapid,though of course the effects of so severe a shock to the nervoussystem could not be shaken off in a day. Though she was no longer mad,she was still in a disturbed state of mind, and subject to strangedreams or visions. One in particular that visited her several nightsin a succession, made a great impression upon her.
First, it would seem to her that she was wide awake in the middle ofthe night, and there would creep over her a sense of unmeasured space,infinite silence, and intense solitude. She would think that she wasstanding on a dais at the end of a vast hall, down which ran endlessrows of pillars supporting an inky sky which was the roof. There wasno light in the hall, yet she could clearly see; there was no sound,but she could hear the silence. Only a soft radiance shone from hereyes and brow. She was not afraid, though lonely, but she felt thatsomething would presently come to make an end of solitude. And so shestood for many years or ages--she could not tell which--trying tofathom the mystery of that great place, and watching the light thatstreamed from her forehead strike upon the marble floor and pillars,or thread the darkness like a shooting star, only to reveal new depthsof blackness beyond those it pierced. At length there came, softlyfalling from the sky-roof which never stirred to any passing breeze, aflake of snow larger than a dove's wing; but it was blood-red, and inits centre shone a wonderful light that made its passage through thedarkness a track of glory. As it passed gently downwards withoutsound, she thought that it threw the shadow of a human face. It litupon the marble floor, and the red snow melted there and turned toblood, but the light that had been its heart shone on pure and steady.
Looking up again, she saw that the vault above her was thick withthousands upon thousands of these flakes, each glowing like a crimsonlamp, and each throwing its own shadow. One of the shadows was likeGeorge, and she shuddered as it passed. And ever as they touched themarble pavement, the flakes melted and became blood, and some of thelights went out, but the most part burnt on, till at length there wasno longer any floor, but a dead-sea of blood on which floated a myriadpoints of fire.
And then it all grew clear to her, for a voice in her mind spoke andsaid that this was one of God's storehouses for human souls; that thelight was the soul, and the red in the snow which turned to blood wasthe sin which had, during its earthly passage, stained its firstpurity. The sea of blood before her was the sum of the scarletwickedness of her age; from every soul there came some to swell itsawful waters.
At length the red snow ceased to fall, and a sound that was not avoice, but yet spoke, pealed through the silence, asking if all wereready. The voice that had spoken in her mind answered, "No, he has notcome who is to see." Then, looking upwards, she saw, miles on milesaway, a bright being with half-shut wings flashing fast towards her,and she knew that it was Arthur, and the loneliness left her. He lit abreathing radiance by her side, and again the great sound pealed, "Letin the living waters, and cleanse away the sins of this generation."
It echoed and died away, and there followed a tumult like the flow ofan angry sea. A mighty wind swept past her, and after it an ocean ofmolten crystal came rushing through the illimitable hall. The sea andthe wind purged away the blood and put out the lamps, leaving behindthem a glow of light like that upon her brow, and where the lamps hadbeen stood myriads of seraphic beings, whilst from ten thousandtongues ran forth a paean of celestial song.