When his sense returned to him he found himself lying in the curtainedcorner of a big room. At least he thought it was big because of thevast expanse of ceiling which he could see above the curtain rods andthe sounds without, some of which seemed to come from a distance. Therewas a window, too, through which he caught sight of lawns and statuesand formal trees. Just then the curtain was drawn, and there appeared amiddle-aged woman dressed in white, looking very calm, very kind andvery spotless, who started a little when she saw that his eyes wereopen and that his face was intelligent.
"Where am I?" he asked, and was puzzled to observe that the sound ofhis voice seemed feeble and far away.
"In the hospital at Versailles," she answered in a pleasant voice.
"Indeed!" he murmured. "It occurred to me that it might be Heaven orsome place of the sort."
"If you looked through the curtain you wouldn't call it Heaven," shesaid with a sigh, adding, "No, Major, you were near to 'going west,'very near, but you never got to the gates of Heaven."
"I can't remember," he murmured again.
"Of course you can't, so don't try, for you see you got it in the head,a bit of shell; and a nice operation, or rather operations, they hadover you. If it wasn't for that clever surgeon--but there, never mind."
"Shall I recover?"
"Of course you will. We have had no doubt about that for the last week;you have been here nearly three, you know; only, you see, we thoughtyou might be blind, something to do with the nerves of the eyes. But itappears that isn't so. Now be quiet, for I can't stop talking to youwith two dying just outside, and another whom I hope to save."
"One thing, Nurse--about the war. Have the Germans got Paris?"
"That's a silly question, Major, which makes me think you ain't soright as I believed. If those brutes had Paris do you think you wouldbe at Versailles? Or, at any rate, that I should? Don't you botherabout the war. It's all right, or as right as it is likely to be formany a long day."
Then she went.
A week later Godfrey was allowed to get out of bed and was even carriedto sit in the autumn sunshine among other shattered men. Now he learnedall there was to know; that the German rush had been stayed, that theyhad been headed off from Calais, and that the armies were entrenchingopposite to each other and preparing for the winter, the Allied causehaving been saved, as it were, by a miracle, at any rate for the while.He was still very weak, with great pain in his head, and could not readat all, which grieved him.
So the time went by, till at last he was told that he was to be sent toEngland, as his bed was wanted and he could recover there as well as inFrance. Two days later he started in a hospital train and suffered muchupon the journey, although it was broken for a night at Boulogne. Stillhe came safely to London, and was taken to a central hospital wherenext day several doctors held a consultation over him. When it was overthey asked him if he had friends in London and wished to stay there. Hereplied that he had no friends except an old nurse at Hampstead, if shewere still there, and that he did not like London. Then there was talkamong them, and the word Torquay was mentioned. The head doctor seemedto agree, but as he was leaving, changed his mind.
"Too long a journey," he said, "it would knock him up. Give me thatlist. Here, this place will do; quite close and got up regardless, I amtold, for she's very rich. That's what he wants--comfort andfirst-class food," and with a nod to Godfrey, who was listening in anidle fashion, quite indifferent as to his destination, he was gone.
Next day they carried him off in an ambulance through the crowdedStrand, and presently he found himself at Liverpool Street, where hewas put into an invalid carriage. He asked the orderly where he wasgoing, but the man did not seem to know, or had forgotten the name. Sotroubling no more about it he took a dose of medicine as he had beenordered, and presently went to sleep, as no doubt it was intended thathe should do. When he woke up again it was to find himself being liftedfrom another ambulance into a house which was very dark, perhapsbecause of the lighting orders, for now night had fallen. He wascarried in a chair up some stairs into a very nice bedroom, and thereput to bed by two men. They went away, leaving him alone.
Something puzzled him about the place; at first he could not think whatit was. Then he knew. The smell of it was familiar to him. He did notrecognise the room, but the smell he did seem to recognise, thoughbeing weak and shaken he could not connect it with any particular houseor locality. Now there were voices in the passage, and he knew that hemust be dreaming, for the only one that he could really hear soundedexactly like to that of old Mrs. Parsons. He smiled at the thought andshut his eyes. The voice that was like to that of Mrs. Parsons diedaway, saying as it went:
"No, I haven't got the names, but I dare say they are downstairs. I'llgo and look."
The door opened and he heard someone enter, a woman this time by hertread. He did not see, both because his eyes were still almost closedand for the reason that the electric light was heavily shaded. So hejust lay there, wondering quite vaguely where he was and who the womanmight be. She came near to the bed and looked down at him, for he heardher dress rustle as she bent. Then he became aware of a very strangesensation. He felt as though something were flowing from that woman tohim, some strange and concentrated power of thought which was changinginto a kind of agony of joy. The woman above him began to breathequickly, in sighs as it were, and he knew that she was stirred; he knewthat she was wondering.
"I cannot see his face, I cannot see his face!" she whispered in astrained, unnatural tone. Then with some swift movement she lifted theshade that was over the lamp. He, too, turned his head and opened hiseyes.
Oh, God! there over him leant Isobel, clad in a nurse's robes--yes,Isobel--unless he were mad.
Next moment he knew that he was not mad, for she said one word, onlyone, but it was enough.
"Godfrey!"
"Isobel!" he gasped. "Is it you?"
She made no answer, at least in words. Only she bent down and kissedhim on the lips.
"You mustn't do that," he whispered. "Remember--our promise?"
"I remember," she answered. "Am I likely to forget? It was that youwould never see me nor come into this house while my father lived.Well, he died a month ago." Then a doubt struck her, and she addedswiftly: "Didn't you want to come here?"
"Want, Isobel! What else have I wanted for ten years? But I didn'tknow; my coming here was just an accident."
"Are there such things as accidents?" she queried. "Was it an accidentwhen twenty years ago I found you sleeping in the schoolroom at theAbbey and kissed you on the forehead, or when I found you sleeping afew minutes ago twenty whole years later--?" and she paused.
"And kissed me--_not_ upon the forehead," said Godfrey reflective,adding, "I never knew about that first kiss. Thank you for it."
"Not upon the forehead," she repeated after him, colouring a little."You see I have faith and take a great deal for granted. If I should bemistaken----"
"Oh! don't trouble about that," he broke in, "because you know itcouldn't be. Ten years, or ten thousand, and it would make nodifference."
"I wonder," she mused, "oh! how I wonder. Do you think it possible thatwe shall be living ten thousand years hence?"
"Quite," he answered with cheerful assurance, "much more possible thanthat I should be living to-day. What's ten thousand years? It's quite ahundred thousand since I saw you."
"Don't laugh at me," she exclaimed.
"Why not, dear, when there's nothing in the whole world at which Iwouldn't laugh at just now? although I would rather look at you. Also Iwasn't laughing, I was loving, and when one is loving very much, thetruth comes out."
"Then you really think it true--about the ten thousand years, I mean?"
"Of course, dear," he answered, and this time his voice was seriousenough. "Did we not tell each other yonder in the Abbey that ours wasthe love eternal?"
"Yes, but words cannot make eternity."
"No, but thoughts and the will behind them can, for w
e reap what wesow."
"Why do you say that?" she asked quickly.
"I can't tell you, except because I know that it is so. We come tostrange conclusions out yonder, where only death seems to be true andall the rest a dream. What we call the real and the unreal get mixed."
A kind of wave of happiness passed through her, so obvious that it wasvisible to the watching Godfrey.
"If you believe it I dare say that it is so, for you always had whatthey call vision, had you not?" Then without waiting for an answer, shewent on, "What nonsense we are talking. Don't you understand, Godfrey,that I am quite old?"
"Yes," he answered, "getting on; six months younger than I am, I think."
"Oh! it's different with a man. Another dozen years and I'm finished."
"Possibly, except for that eternity before you."
"Also," she continued, "I am even----"
"Even more beautiful than you were ten years ago, at any rate to me,"he broke in.
"You foolish Godfrey," she murmured, and moved a little away from him.
Just then the door opened, and Mrs. Parsons, looking very odd in anurse's dress with the cap awry upon her grey hair, entered, carrying abit of paper.
"The hunt I had!" she began; "that silly, new-fangled kind of agirl-clerk having stuck the paper away under the letter O--forofficers, you know, Miss--in some fancy box of hers, and then gone offto tea. Here are the names, but I can't see without my specs."
At this point something in the attitude of the two struck her,something that her instincts told her was uncommon, and she stoodirresolute. Isobel stepped to her as though to take the list, and,bending down, whispered into her ear.
"What?" said Mrs. Parsons. "Surely I didn't understand; you know I'mgetting deaf as well as blind. Say the name again."
Isobel obeyed, still in a whisper.
"_Him_!" exclaimed the old woman, "him! Our Godfrey, and you've beenand let on who you were--you who call yourself a nursing Commandant?Why, I dare say you'll be the death of him. Out you go, Miss, anyway;I'll take charge of this case for the present," and as it seemed toGodfrey, watching from the far corner, literally she bundled Isobelfrom the room.
Then she shut and locked the door. Coming to the bedside she knelt downrather stiffly, looked at him for a while to make sure, and kissed him,not once, but many times.
"So you have come back, my dear," she said, "and only half dead. Well,we won't have no young woman pushing between you and me just atpresent, Commandant or not. Time enough for love-making when you arestronger. Oh! and I never thought to see you again. There must be agood God somewhere after all, although He did make them Germans."
Then again she fell to kissing and blessing him, her hot tears droppingon his face and upsetting him ten times as much as Isobel had done.
Since in this topsy-turvy world often things work by contraries, oddlyenough no harm came to Godfrey from these fierce excitements. Indeed heslept better than he had done since he found his mind again, and awoke,still weak of course, but without any temperature or pains in his head.Now it was that there began the most blissful period of all his life.Isobel, when she had recovered her balance, made him understand that hewas a patient, and that exciting talk or acts must be avoided. He onhis part fell in with her wishes, and indeed was well content to do so.For a while he wanted nothing more than just to lie there and watch hermoving in and out of his room, with his food or flowers, or whatever itmight be, for a burst of bad weather prevented him from going out ofdoors. Then, as he strengthened she began to talk to him (which Mrs.Parsons did long before that event), telling him all that for years hehad longed to know; no, not all, but some things. Among other mattersshe described to him the details of her father's end, which occurred ina very characteristic fashion.
"You see, dear," she said, "as he grew older his passion formoney-making increased more and more; why, I am sure I cannot say,seeing that Heaven knows he had enough."
"Yes," said Godfrey, "I suppose you are a very rich woman."
She nodded, saying: "So rich that I don't know how rich, for really Ihaven't troubled even to read all the figures, and as yet they are notcomplete. Moreover, I believe that soon I shall be much richer. I'lltell you why presently. The odd thing is, too, that my father diedintestate, so I get every farthing. I believe he meant to make a willwith some rather peculiar provisions that perhaps you can guess. Butthis will was never made."
"Why not?" asked Godfrey.
"Because he died first, that's all. It was this way. He, or rather hisfirm, which is only another name for him, for he owned three-fourths ofthe capital, got some tremendous shipping contract with the Governmentarising out of the war, that secures an enormous profit to them; howmuch I can't tell you, but hundreds and hundreds of thousands ofpounds. He had been very anxious about this contract, for his termswere so stiff that the officials who manage such affairs hesitatedabout signing them. At last one day after a long and I gather, stormyinterview with I don't know whom, in the course of which some ratherstrong language seems to have been used, the contract was signed anddelivered to the firm. My father came home to this house with a copy ofit in his pocket. He was very triumphant, for he looked at the mattersolely from a business point of view, not at all from that of thecountry. Also he was very tired, for he had aged much during the lastfew years, and suffered occasionally from heart attacks. To keephimself up he drank a great deal of wine at dinner, first champagne andthen the best part of a bottle of port. This made him talkative, and hekept me sitting there to listen to him while he boasted, poor man, ofhow he had 'walked round' the officials who thought themselves soclever, but never saw some trap which he had set for them."
"And what did you do?" asked Godfrey.
"You know very well what I did. I grew angry, I could not help it, andtold him I thought it was shameful to make money wrongfully out of thecountry at such a time, especially when he did not want it at all. Thenhe was furious and answered that he did want it, to support the peeragewhich he was going to get. He said also," she added slowly, "that I was'an ignorant, interfering vixen,' yes, that is what he called me, avixen, who had always been a disappointment to him and thwarted hisplans. 'However,' he went on, 'as you think so little of my hard-earnedmoney, I'll take care that you don't have more of it than I can help. Iam not going to leave it to be wasted on silly charities by a sour oldmaid, for that's what you are, since you can't get hold of yourprecious parson's son, who I hope will be sent to the war and killed.I'll see the lawyers to-morrow, and make a will, which I hope you'llfind pleasant reading one day.'
"I answered that he might make what will he liked, and left the room,though he tried to stop me.
"About half an hour later I saw the butler running about the gardenwhere I was, looking for me in the gloom, and heard him calling: 'Cometo Sir John, miss. Come to Sir John!'
"I went in and there was my father fallen forward on the dining-roomtable, with blood coming from his lips, though I believe this wascaused by a crushed wineglass. His pocket-book was open beneath him, inwhich he had been writing figures of his estate, and, I think, headingsfor the will he meant to make, but these I could not read since thefaint pencilling was blotted out with blood. He was quite dead fromsome kind of a stroke followed by heart failure, as the doctors said."
"Is that all the pleasant story?" asked Godfrey.
"Yes, except that there being no will I inherited everything, or shalldo so. I tried to get that contract cancelled, but could not; first,because having once made it the Government would not consent, since todo so would have been a reflection on those concerned, and secondly,for the reason that the other partners in the shipping businessobjected. So we shall have to give it back in some other way."
Godfrey looked at her, and said:
"You meant to say that _you_ will have to give it back."
"I don't know what I meant," she answered, colouring; "but having said_we_, I think I will be like the Government and stick to it. That is,unless you object very much, my
dear."
"Object! _I_ object!" and taking the hand that was nearest to him, hecovered it with kisses. As he did so he noted that for the first timeshe wore the little ring with turquoise hearts upon her third finger,the ring that so many years before he had bought at Lucerne, the ringthat through Mrs. Parsons he had sent her in the pill-box on theevening of their separation.
This was the only form of engagement that ever passed between them, thetruth being that from the moment he entered the place it was all takenfor granted, not only by themselves, but by everyone in the house,including the wounded. With this development of an intelligentinstinct, it is possible that Mrs. Parsons had something to do.