CHAPTER XVI. DAVID BAKER'S OPINION
The next week David Baker came to Lindsay. He arrived in the afternoonwhen Eric was in school. When the latter came home he found that Davidhad, in the space of an hour, captured Mrs. Williamson's heart, wormedhimself into the good graces of Timothy, and become hail-fellow-well-metwith old Robert. But he looked curiously at Eric when the two young menfound themselves alone in the upstairs room.
"Now, Eric, I want to know what all this is about. What scrape have yougot into? You write me a letter, entreating me in the name of friendshipto come to you at once. Accordingly I come post haste. You seem to be inexcellent health yourself. Explain why you have inveigled me hither."
"I want you to do me a service which only you can do, David," said Ericquietly. "I didn't care to go into the details by letter. I have met inLindsay a young girl whom I have learned to love. I have asked her tomarry me, but, although she cares for me, she refuses to do so becauseshe is dumb. I wish you to examine her and find out the cause of herdefect, and if it can be cured. She can hear perfectly and all her otherfaculties are entirely normal. In order that you may better understandthe case I must tell you the main facts of her history."
This Eric proceeded to do. David Baker listened with grave attention,his eyes fastened on his friend's face. He did not betray the surpriseand dismay he felt at learning that Eric had fallen in love with adumb girl of doubtful antecedents; and the strange case enlisted hisprofessional interest. When he had heard the whole story he thrust hishands into his pockets and strode up and down the room several times insilence. Finally he halted before Eric.
"So you have done what I foreboded all along you would do--left yourcommon sense behind you when you went courting."
"If I did," said Eric quietly, "I took with me something better andnobler than common sense."
David shrugged his shoulders.
"You'll have hard work to convince me of that, Eric."
"No, it will not be difficult at all. I have one argument that willconvince you speedily--and that is Kilmeny Gordon herself. But we willnot discuss the matter of my wisdom or lack of it just now. What I wantto know is this--what do you think of the case as I have stated it toyou?"
David frowned thoughtfully.
"I hardly know what to think. It is very curious and unusual, but itis not totally unprecedented. There have been cases on record wherepre-natal influences have produced a like result. I cannot just nowremember whether any were ever cured. Well, I'll see if anything can bedone for this girl. I cannot express any further opinion until I haveexamined her."
The next morning Eric took David up to the Gordon homestead. As theyapproached the old orchard a strain of music came floating throughthe resinous morning arcades of the spruce wood--a wild, sorrowful,appealing cry, full of indescribable pathos, yet marvelously sweet.
"What is that?" exclaimed David, starting.
"That is Kilmeny playing on her violin," answered Eric. "She has greattalent in that respect and improvises wonderful melodies."
When they reached the orchard Kilmeny rose from the old bench to meetthem, her lovely luminous eyes distended, her face flushed with theexcitement of mingled hope and fear.
"Oh, ye gods!" muttered David helplessly.
He could not hide his amazement and Eric smiled to see it. The latterhad not failed to perceive that his friend had until now considered himas little better than a lunatic.
"Kilmeny, this is my friend, Dr. Baker," he said.
Kilmeny held out her hand with a smile. Her beauty, as she stood therein the fresh morning sunshine beside a clump of her sister lilies,was something to take away a man's breath. David, who was by no meanslacking in confidence and generally had a ready tongue where women wereconcerned, found himself as mute and awkward as a school boy, as hebowed over her hand.
But Kilmeny was charmingly at ease. There was not a trace ofembarrassment in her manner, though there was a pretty shyness. Ericsmiled as he recalled HIS first meeting with her. He suddenly realizedhow far Kilmeny had come since then and how much she had developed.
With a little gesture of invitation Kilmeny led the way through theorchard to the wild cherry lane, and the two men followed.
"Eric, she is simply unutterable!" said David in an undertone. "Lastnight, to tell you the truth, I had a rather poor opinion of yoursanity. But now I am consumed with a fierce envy. She is the loveliestcreature I ever saw."
Eric introduced David to the Gordons and then hurried away to hisschool. On his way down the Gordon lane he met Neil and was halfstartled by the glare of hatred in the Italian boy's eyes. Pitysucceeded the momentary alarm. Neil's face had grown thin and haggard;his eyes were sunken and feverishly bright; he looked years older thanon the day when Eric had first seen him in the brook hollow.
Prompted by sudden compassionate impulse Eric stopped and held out hishand.
"Neil, can't we be friends?" he said. "I am sorry if I have been thecause of inflicting pain on you."
"Friends! Never!" said Neil passionately. "You have taken Kilmeny fromme. I shall hate you always. And I'll be even with you yet."
He strode fiercely up the lane, and Eric, with a shrug of his shoulders,went on his way, dismissing the meeting from his mind.
The day seemed interminably long to him. David had not returned whenhe went home to dinner; but when he went to his room in the evening hefound his friend there, staring out of the window.
"Well," he said, impatiently, as David wheeled around but still keptsilence, "What have you to say to me? Don't keep me in suspense anylonger, David. I have endured all I can. To-day has seemed like athousand years. Have you discovered what is the matter with Kilmeny?"
"There is nothing the matter with her," answered David slowly, flinginghimself into a chair by the window.
"What do you mean?"
"Just exactly what I say. Her vocal organs are all perfect. As far asthey are concerned, there is absolutely no reason why she should notspeak."
"Then why can't she speak? Do you think--do you think--"
"I think that I cannot express my conclusion in any better words thanJanet Gordon used when she said that Kilmeny cannot speak becauseher mother wouldn't. That is all there is to it. The trouble ispsychological, not physical. Medical skill is helpless before it. Thereare greater men than I in my profession; but it is my honest belief,Eric, that if you were to consult them they would tell you just what Ihave told you, neither more nor less."
"Then there is no hope," said Eric in a tone of despair. "You can donothing for her?"
David took from the back of his chair a crochet antimacassar with a lionrampant in the center and spread it over his knee.
"I can do nothing for her," he said, scowling at that work of art. "Ido not believe any living man can do anything for her. But I do notsay--exactly--that there is no hope."
"Come, David, I am in no mood for guessing riddles. Speak plainly, man,and don't torment me."
David frowned dubiously and poked his finger through the hole whichrepresented the eye of the king of beasts.
"I don't know that I can make it plain to you. It isn't very plainto myself. And it is only a vague theory of mine, of course. I cannotsubstantiate it by any facts. In short, Eric, I think it is possiblethat Kilmeny may speak sometime--if she ever wants it badly enough."
"Wants to! Why, man, she wants to as badly as it is possible for any oneto want anything. She loves me with all her heart and she won't marryme because she can't speak. Don't you suppose that a girl under suchcircumstances would 'want' to speak as much as any one could?"
"Yes, but I do not mean that sort of wanting, no matter how strong thewish may be. What I do mean is--a sudden, vehement, passionate inrush ofdesire, physical, psychical, mental, all in one, mighty enough to rendasunder the invisible fetters that hold her speech in bondage. If anyoccasion should arise to evoke such a desire I believe that Kilmenywould speak--and having once spoken would thenceforth be normal in thatrespect--ay, if she spoke b
ut the one word."
"All this sounds like great nonsense to me," said Eric restlessly. "Isuppose you have an idea what you are talking about, but I haven't. And,in any case, it practically means that there is no hope for her--or me.Even if your theory is correct it is not likely such an occasion as youspeak of will ever arise. And Kilmeny will never marry me."
"Don't give up so easily, old fellow. There HAVE been cases on recordwhere women have changed their minds."
"Not women like Kilmeny," said Eric miserably. "I tell you she has allher mother's unfaltering will and tenacity of purpose, although sheis free from any taint of pride or selfishness. I thank you for yoursympathy and interest, David. You have done all you could--but, heavens,what it would have meant to me if you could have helped her!"
With a groan Eric flung himself on a chair and buried his face in hishands. It was a moment which held for him all the bitterness of death.He had thought that he was prepared for disappointment; he had not knownhow strong his hope had really been until that hope was utterly takenfrom him.
David, with a sigh, returned the crochet antimacassar carefully to itsplace on the chair back.
"Eric, last night, to be honest, I thought that, if I found I could nothelp this girl, it would be the best thing that could happen, as faras you were concerned. But since I have seen her--well, I would give myright hand if I could do anything for her. She is the wife for you, ifwe could make her speak; yes, and by the memory of your mother"--Davidbrought his fist down on the window sill with a force that shook thecasement,--"she is the wife for you, speech or no speech, if we couldonly convince her of it."
"She cannot be convinced of that. No, David, I have lost her. Did youtell her what you have told me?"
"I told her I could not help her. I did not say anything to her of mytheory--that would have done no good."
"How did she take it?"
"Very bravely and quietly--'like a winsome lady'. But the look in hereyes--Eric, I felt as if I had murdered something. She bade me good-byewith a pitiful smile and went upstairs. I did not see her again,although I stayed to dinner as her uncle's request. Those oldGordons are a queer pair. I liked them, though. They are strong andstaunch--good friends, bitter enemies. They were sorry that I could nothelp Kilmeny, but I saw plainly that old Thomas Gordon thought that Ihad been meddling with predestination in attempting it."
Eric smiled mechanically.
"I must go up and see Kilmeny. You'll excuse me, won't you, David? Mybooks are there--help yourself."
But when Eric reached the Gordon house he saw only old Janet, who toldhim that Kilmeny was in her room and refused to see him.
"She thought you would come up, and she left this with me to give you,Master."
Janet handed him a little note. It was very brief and blotted withtears.
"Do not come any more, Eric," it ran. "I must not see you, because itwould only make it harder for us both. You must go away and forget me.You will be thankful for this some day. I shall always love and pray foryou."
"KILMENY."
"I MUST see her," said Eric desperately. "Aunt Janet, be my friend. Tellher she must see me for a little while at least."
Janet shook her head but went upstairs. She soon returned.
"She says she cannot come down. You know she means it, Master, and itis of no use to coax her. And I must say I think she is right. Since shewill not marry you it is better for her not to see you."
Eric was compelled to go home with no better comfort than this. In themorning, as it was Sunday, he drove David Baker to the station. Hehad not slept and he looked so miserable and reckless that David feltanxious about him. David would have stayed in Lindsay for a few days,but a certain critical case in Queenslea demanded his speedy return. Heshook hands with Eric on the station platform.
"Eric, give up that school and come home at once. You can do no good inLindsay now, and you'll only eat your heart out here."
"I must see Kilmeny once more before I leave," was all Eric's answer.
That afternoon he went again to the Gordon homestead. But the result wasthe same; Kilmeny refused to see him, and Thomas Gordon said gravely,
"Master, you know I like you and I am sorry Kilmeny thinks as she does,though maybe she is right. I would be glad to see you often for your ownsake and I'll miss you much; but as things are I tell you plainly you'dbetter not come here any more. It will do no good, and the sooner youand she get over thinking about each other the better for you both. Gonow, lad, and God bless you."
"Do you know what it is you are asking of me?" said Eric hoarsely.
"I know I am asking a hard thing for your own good, Master. It is not asif Kilmeny would ever change her mind. We have had some experience witha woman's will ere this. Tush, Janet, woman, don't be weeping. You womenare foolish creatures. Do you think tears can wash such things away? No,they cannot blot out sin, or the consequences of sin. It's awful howone sin can spread out and broaden, till it eats into innocent lives,sometimes long after the sinner has gone to his own accounting. Master,if you take my advice, you'll give up the Lindsay school and go back toyour own world as soon as may be."