CHAPTER XXX
GAZING UPON A NEW WORLD
The room was very quiet. A wintry sunbeam glanced in through the leadedcasement and fell slanting across the floor, lighting up the occupiedfour-post bed. A uniformed nurse was occupied at a bureau which stoodin the window-place, framed in the floral chintz hangings which seemedto suit so well the oaken panelling of the room, and the beams withwhich the ceiling was so powerfully groined.
The doctor, a benevolent, grey-whiskered, cherub-eyed old man, who hadcared for every patient at Dorby Towers since the Farlows came intooccupation, was at the bedside talking gently but firmly to his patient.
"It is useless, my dear young lady," he said, with, for him, an almostpeevish complaint. "I have done all that a man can do. I have pulledyou clear of that wretched brain-fever which threatened you. Your poor,poor arm will soon be out of its plaster, and covered with nothing moredisfiguring than a sling, which can at all times be made to match yourcostume, and yet you will do nothing to help _me_. It is reallydistressing. You should have been on that couch two weeks ago. A weekago you should have been moving about getting your bodily strengthback. I really can't understand such obstinacy. Eight weeks in thisbed, and you will not, simply will not, pull yourself up sufficientlyto allow your being moved. You know it's a case of that woman, Mrs.Somebody, in one of Charles Dickens's books. I don't remember the name.All I know is she died, or did something equally silly, because shewouldn't make an effort."
Vita gazed back languidly into the fresh, wholesome face of the smilingold man. She was so tired. She was weary with thought. She knew thatthe doctor was making a just complaint. But she knew something more.She knew, half by instinct, the real cause of the trouble of which hewas complaining.
She smiled up at him in a wan fashion.
"I am not as much to blame as you think, doctor dear. You have done,oh, so much for me that I feel I can never be grateful enough. May Isit up?"
The doctor summoned the nurse, and Vita was tenderly propped up againsta perfect nest of pillows.
"That's better. Thank you ever so much. Now I can talk, and--I want totalk."
Vita remained silent for some moments in spite of her expressed desire.
The medical man watched her closely. She was a mere shadow of what sheought to be. There was a troubled look in her eyes. He felt, somehow heknew, what was coming. It was a request such as he had been forced todeny her so many times before.
His smile died out. But Vita's eyes, when she finally turned them onhim, were bright with an emotion which seemed at first unwarranted.
"Do you know why I can't get well?" she enquired wistfully. "It is notobstinacy. It is not lack of effort. It is because _you_ won't let me.Doctor dear, the time has surely gone by when I may not talk of--thatnight. You see, you don't understand it--all. My father is dead. I knowthat. The thought is always with me. But that--that is not all.Everybody here is kindness, kindness itself. Mr. Farlow--Ruxton, all ofthem. They come here. But they are never allowed to stay. They send meeverything which--kindness can dictate. But, under your orders, no onewill tell me those things I must know, and I am not permitted to say aword of that which I must tell. Doctor dear, it is _you_ who are toblame. Oh, the worry of it all. It seems to take the very life out ofme. I must talk," she went on, with growing excitement. "I must tellhim all which he can never learn so long as you keep me silent. SendRuxton to me, doctor dear, and give us leave to talk as much as we wantto, and I promise you you shall not regret it. I--I simply must talkor--or----"
But the growing excitement proved too much for her. In her weak stateVita suddenly fell to weeping hysterically. The nurse and doctor leanttheir energies to calming her, and, by degrees, their efforts wererewarded.
But the little man's face was troubled. This was what he feared,dreaded.
The moment Vita had calmed again he chided her as he might chide somehelpless child, but he registered a mental resolve. Somehow Vita mustobtain strength or---- Well, he had done all he knew. He must leavemedicine and look to the psychological side. Experiment--he hatedexperiment at his time of life. But there seemed to be nothing else forit. So he reassured her and gave her the promise she asked.
The result was magical. The sick woman's face lit radiantly. Herbeautiful grey eyes were filled with such a light as the little man hadnever seen in them before. He wondered. He was puzzled. It wassomething which he could not understand.
He left the room, taking the nurse with him, and as he went he shookhis head and warned himself that the nervous troubles of modern timeswere amazing. He felt that he was professionally old--very old.
Nor was it without serious misgivings that he sought Ruxton Farlow.
For an hour Vita endured the efforts of the nurse. She endured themuncomplainingly. She felt like some small child being prepared for aparty. There was the pleasant excitement of it, but, unlike the smallchild, there was also a dread which all the delight could not banish.
Her troubles were very real, and in the long days and nights of illnesswhich had seriously threatened her mental balance, and the dull bodilysuffering from her crushed arm, they had become exaggerated, as onlyacute suffering can distort such things.
With the first return to reason she had hugged to herself the oneoutstanding fact that the responsibility of her father's death lay ather door. It stood out startlingly from every other thought in thetangle of her poor brain. She had urged him to his death, unwittinglyit is true, but due solely to the childish credulity she had displayed.Even now the unforgettable picture of that grey, lean figure fallingforward in response to Von Berger's merciless gun-shot haunted herevery waking moment. The horror of it, the dreadful cruelty. And allher--her doing.
At the bottom of it all lay her cowardice, her miserable cowardice. Herlife--her wretched life had been threatened, and to escape death shehad dragged him forth and left him at the mercy of their enemies. Toher dying day the memory of it would haunt her. She knew it could neverbe otherwise.
But later, as slowly some strength had begun to return, an addedtrouble came to her. It was the natural result of convalescence. Thelegitimate selfish interest in life inspired it. It came at the momentwhen Ruxton had been permitted to pay his first brief visit. It was thesight of him which had filled her with dismay. She had suddenlyremembered that to save her own life she had not only dragged herfather to his death, but she had sacrificed this man's love andpromised to become the wife of the detestable Von Salzinger. From thatmoment the little troubled doctor had noted the check against which hehad been fighting ever since.
All these things were in Vita's mind now as she submitted to theattentions of her nurse. The blending of excitement and dread had beenwith her at first, but quickly all excitement had given way to thesingle emotion which grew almost to a panic, when, finally, the nursewithdrew, leaving her ready to receive the man she loved.
Vita leant against her cushions waiting breathlessly. Her courage wasdrawn up to an almost breaking point. She longed to re-summon thenurse, and once even her uninjured arm was outstretched towards theelectric bell. But she did not ring. She had asked, nay begged forRuxton's visit. She resolutely determined to face him and tell him allthe miserable truth. He would despise her. He would turn from her. Sheclosed her eyes to escape the picture she had conjured up of the coldlook she knew his handsome dark eyes were so capable of. But he mustknow--he must know. She told herself this, and she told herself thatshe must accept her fate at his hands without murmur. It was a justpunishment for her----
The sound of the door-catch moving startled her. Her eager, frightenedeyes turned swiftly in the direction. In a moment Ruxton was standingin the room, his deep eyes smiling down at her from his great height.
"Vita! My Vita!"
Just for one moment the woman's head swam. Her eyes closed and itseemed that she was about to faint. But the sensation passed, and whenthe beautiful grey depths gazed out once more the man was seated on theedge of the bed, holding her hand clasped under the tender press
ure ofboth his.
"My poor little Vita! My poor darling!"
The tones of his voice were tenderly caressing. They were full of adeep, passionate sympathy and love. Vita thrilled under their echo inher own soul. But there was no return of pressure in her hand. Her eyesgazed back into his full of yearning, but they seemed to have losttheir power of smiling.
"Ruxton, dear----" she began. Then she broke off as though powerless tobring herself to tell him all that lay ready marshalled for him to hear.
"Don't distress yourself, dear. Don't bother to talk. It's enough forme to be here, with you, and know you are getting well."
It was his final words which spurred her courage. She began to speakrapidly, and almost it was as if complaint were in her tone.
"But I am not getting well--yet. That is what Doctor Mellish says, andthat is why I must talk. Oh, Ruxton, can't you understand? I can neverget well until I have told you--told you all that is on my mind.Dearest, dearest, I have wronged you, oh, how I have wronged you, andall because I am a coward, a miserable wretched coward who dared notface the death which they had marked out for me. It is that--that whichbrought about poor father's death. It is that which made me throw asidethe love which was all the world to me, and promise to marry the manwho pretended that he was about to save my wretched life."
"Von Salzinger?"
The question came with unerring instinct, but the coldness for herselfVita had dreaded was lacking.
"Yes," she said, in a childlike, frightened way.
"Tell it me. Tell it me all. I have been waiting all these weeks tolearn the truth of all that happened to you--of all you have been madeto suffer by those devils. Tell me everything, from the moment I leftyou to come up here to await your father's arrival."
His manner was so gentle, yet so firm. His eyes still held the warmsmile with which he had greeted her. Vita's courage stole back into herveins, and her poor, hammering heart slackened its beatings, and herthoughts became less chaotic.
Ruxton waited with infinite patience. Time was for them alone just now.He had no desire to lose one moment of it.
Presently in a low hurried voice Vita began her story. She made noattempt to convey to him the terror through which she had passed. Yetit was all there. It lay under every word she uttered. It foundexpression in the brilliancy of her eyes, and the heated color whichleapt to her thin cheeks. Ruxton read it all as if he were witnessingthe whole action of the scenes she was describing. He not only read it,but something of a sympathetic dread swept through him, and his heartset him wondering how his poor troubled love had managed to survive thehorror of all she must have endured.
Vita told him of Von Berger's coming, silently, secretly to Redwithy,and the way in which he had forced her to embark on that journey overthe wild moorlands into the heart of Somersetshire. Then she told himof the imprisonment in the dreadful valley. She hurried on to the scenewhen Von Berger had warned her of her condemnation to death. After thatshe paused, gathering her courage for what was next to come. Her eyesgazed yearningly into her lover's now serious face. Her courage wasebbing fast. Then came the heartening tones of his voice.
"Tell it all, dearest. You have nothing to fear. Perhaps I can guessit."
Instantly her courage rose, and she poured out the story of herrenunciation of his love, that she might be permitted to live. And inher renunciation she warned him that she had been resolved to carry itout to the hideous completion of marriage with Von Salzinger.
And while she leant back on her cushions pouring out her passionatestory, Ruxton's thoughts were less on her words than on the wonder atthe loyalty and honesty which made it necessary for her to lay bare hervery soul to him now, revealing every weakness which she believed to behers. Its effect upon him was deep and lasting. Blame? Where couldthere be blame? The thought became the maddest thing in the world tohim. His whole soul went out to her in her suffering. All he felt helonged to do was to place his strong arms about her and defend her fromall the world; to drive off even the vaguest shadow of memory whichmight disturb her.
But he did nothing. Her hand lay passive in his, and he waited whileshe recounted the details of the night journey from Somersetshire tothe North. Then, when she came to the final scene of her father'sdeath, passion surged through his veins, and he rose from his seat onthe bed and paced the limits of the room.
"The treacherous devils!" he muttered. "The hounds! Gad! they could notbeat him, so they played upon a woman, a defenseless woman. It wasGerman. But they have paid--both of them. But the old man! Thepity--the pity of it. If I could only have saved him."
Ruxton was not addressing her, but Vita was following his every word.Now she caught at his final sentence.
"No one could," she said, with a deep sigh. "I led him to that place ofdeath, as surely as----"
"No, no, Vita! You must not say that. You are no more responsible forhis death than I am. Those devils would have got him. If not in oneway, then in another. He knew it. He was prepared for it. He told mehimself. No, no, you did right. If there were shortcomings they weremine. I did not see far enough. Thank God, at least I contrived to saveyou from the fate they had prepared for you."
Vita's eyes had followed his restless movement. Now they rested uponhis flushed face and hot eyes as he returned to his seat on the bed andtook possession of her hand again.
"Thank God for your life and safety, dearest," he cried, raising herhand to his lips and pressing it to them passionately. "It was thenearest thing. It turns me cold now when I think how near. Listen andI'll tell you my side of it all. It's not a very brainy side, dear.There's not much in it that's particularly creditable to any thinkingman. Most of it was luck, a sort of miraculous good fortune added to aninspiration for which I mustn't take any credit. I'll just take up thetale where you left it, but from the other side--the side whence youmight well have expected succor, and from which, very nearly, there wasnone forthcoming."
He paused. He leant over on the bed, supporting himself on one arm. Hisdark eyes were shining as they dwelt upon the well-loved beauty of thewoman who was, perhaps, at that moment, more than ever the centre ofhis life.
"I can't tell how I arrived at the certainty that you were in the powerof these devils, and were being forced unwittingly to further theirschemes. It was instinct, it was--well, whatever you like to call it.There's no need to worry you with the manner in which I persuaded yourfather to let me watch over him in his going from these shores. Nordoes it matter the small things I prepared for that watch. I'll justtell you what happened.
"I owe a good deal to a small section of the Navy, including Sir JosephCaistor and Sir Reginald Steele, who were both spending the week-endhere. Also Commander Sparling, and some of his men, who are in chargeof the new constructions at the yards. Captain Ludovic I owe somethingto for his shrewdness and loyalty and tolerance. These are the elementswhich contributed so largely in your salvation.
"Well, all day long on that Sunday a light cruiser was standing off thecoast. It had definite instructions. Yes, Sir Joseph had ordered itthere to help me. It was scouting for a submarine. You see, I had madeup my mind that there would be a German submarine in the matter. Thatis to say, if my fears were to prove well founded. Sure enough oneturned up late in the afternoon, and the cruiser picked her up whileshe was running awash. We got the signal that she'd found her. Then wasplayed a wonderful game of cat and mouse. The cruiser never for amoment let it out of her sight. When darkness closed she just ran upcloser and played about with a searchlight. There was no question ofinterfering with or even 'speaking' her. She was outside the threemiles. Then about six o'clock there came the development. The submarinelaunched a boat for shore. It was well manned, and she drove away inthe direction of the cove. Then the cruiser settled to her work. Sheturned her searchlight right on to the vessel lying awash, and neverleft it. The men on the submarine could do nothing which could not beseen from the cruiser, and, to make matters more exasperating, thecruiser closed right in upon her."
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sp; Ruxton paused as though reviewing and criticizing the scene, to observethe completeness of the operation.
"You must understand, dear, what was in my mind to make thisnecessary," he went on, seeing the need for explanation. "You see, Iknew what your father's submersible meant to Germany. They had lost theplans of the U-rays lamp. Nor had they any models. The onlyinstallation of the U-rays was on the submersible. I had made up mymind that if there was to be any interference with your father theymeant capturing his vessel too. Besides, it would be simple from theirview-point. Your father's vessel was wholly unarmed.
"Very well. What were the intentions with a submarine probably full ofGerman naval men? It seemed to me natural that while their boat wentashore, in pitch darkness, to take off your father, the men on thesubmarine would set about securing possession of the submersible themoment it hove in sight. How right I was you will see. However, thesubmarine never had a chance. She could not escape that light. Shedived again and again to avoid it, but each time she came up the lightpicked her up and held her. Had they attempted to launch a boat thecruiser would have done the same, and then followed it up whithersoeverit went; and, had there been an attempt to board the submersible, ourboat would have been there first. The skipper of that submarine wasout-man[oe]uvred, beaten--peaceably, but--beaten. Nor had he means ofcommunicating his trouble to those in the boat which had gone ashore."
Now Ruxton's manner become less exultant as he went on after a briefpause.
"What went on at the cove you know better than I. That was the chiefweakness of my plans. I stationed a number of the confidentialGovernment agents ready to lend help if it were needed. But I had beendriven to concentrating on the ultimate 'get away.' That, to me, stoodout as imperative. I had to chance the other. Therein lay my blame forthe sacrifice of your father. The sound of shots fired told its tale,but I still hoped."
He drew a deep sigh of regret. His eyes were troubled. Now he went on,without a sign of elation.
"The crucial moment came when it was seen that the pinnace, loaded welldown, was racing towards the submersible from the shore. It was morethan ticklish. However, things were carefully planned. They hailed thesubmersible, which was lying awash. They found only two men on thedeck--your father's men, and Captain Ludovic in the conning-towerdoorway. Von Berger led the way aboard, and Von Salzinger followed. Theformer glanced at the men, and spoke to Ludovic. In his words hejustified my whole supposition. He asked for a Lieutenant Rutter, andLudovic, in assumed sullen submission, told him he was below in thesaloon. Von Berger was satisfied. He only waited till the crew wasaboard, and you, lying unconscious in the arms of one of his men, andyour father's body supported by two others, had been conveyed downbelow. Then he gave Ludovic orders to head at full speed for Cuxhaven,and, if followed, to submerge. He said that the man Rutter would besent up to see he played no tricks. Then he and Von Salzinger wentbelow, and the steel door of the conning-tower was made fast.
"The rest--do you need it? It was a bloody affair. You and your deadfather were taken into the saloon. Von Berger and Von Salzingerfollowed. Then Von Berger dismissed the men, who went out while helooked round for Rutter. But in a moment he understood what washappening. As the men left the saloon they were set upon. They foughtlike demons, but were either overpowered or shot down. Von Bergerslammed the saloon door closed, and strove to hold it. But as well tryto hold a rabbit-hutch against a tornado. They were caught. Caught, asI heard Von Salzinger say, like rats in a trap."
"You--you were there--in the submersible?"
Vita's eyes were shining with a world of emotion. The story had caughther and swept her along with it. A great pride was in her heart. Thisman had risked all, everything for her father and herself.
"Oh, yes. But I wasn't by any means alone. Young Sparling and twenty ofhis bluejackets from the yards had been secreted aboard. But--it wasdeadly work. How I escaped without a scratch I don't know. Five of ourmen got wounded. Von Berger fought like a fury. The other, VonSalzinger, went out suddenly at the outset. I'm not sure who broughthim down. Sparling and I fired simultaneously. I hope it was my shotthat sent him--home. But Von Berger was wonderful. It was not until wehad crushed his wrist and hand in the fighting that he was overpowered.He was a veritable Hercules."
Vita had listened almost breathlessly. Now her enquiry came in a low,eager tone.
"And Von Berger--what happened after he was overpowered?"
Ruxton hesitated.
"It was he who killed my father," Vita reminded him.
"Yes."
"Tell me."
Ruxton had no alternative.
"We had a talk--he and I. The result? He was given an alternative. Thehangman's rope here ashore, or half an hour's freedom of thesubmersible's deck."
Vita nodded. She understood.
"And he chose?"
"The deck. You see he was a royal prince."
"Yes."
Neither seemed inclined to break the silence that followed. Each wasthinking of the scenes which must have been enacted. Ruxton, as he hadwitnessed them. Vita, as her imagination portrayed them.
Finally it was Vita who spoke in a whisper that became almost startling.
"The others--the crew of the boat?"
"They have been all sent back to Germany--via Holland. They were allheld here till the wounded had recovered. Then they went away together."
But Vita's eyes were wide with apprehension.
"But the secret. The secret of it all will reach Berlin. It will reacheven to----"
Ruxton smiled.
"Precisely what was intended and--hoped. It has done so. We know that.We have had the most curious and subtle enquiries from the Berlinauthorities. They dared not openly accuse. We have replied. Our ForeignOffice formulated the reply. They have been told that a murder wascommitted upon the Yorkshire coast--the murder of a German named VonHertzwohl. It was committed by a rascally crew of Germans, headed byone, Von Berger, and assisted by another, Von Salzinger. These seem tohave been the names they were known by, though the police think theywere probably aliases. Unfortunately the gang got away in boats.However, the leaders came to an untimely end in the pursuit by thepolice. One shot himself--the one called Von Salzinger. The other, VonBerger, who seems to have been injured, tried to escape by goingoverboard from the boat in which he was endeavoring to get away. TheForeign Office has regretted that it can obtain no further informationwhich might be of use to Berlin."
"But it is a challenge," cried Vita in an awed voice.
Ruxton's smile broadened.
"So it was intended." He shook his head. "But it is a challenge theydare not take up. Furthermore, it should leave us in peace to completethe work your poor father has so well begun."
Ruxton rose from his seat on the bed. He moved away, across to theleaded window, from which the sunbeam had long since passed. He gazedout across the leafless trees of the park towards the drab of themoorland beyond. He was not unaffected by his own story. He knew howmuch more it must mean to Vita. He waited. He was waiting for a summonswhich he felt would come in Vita's own good time.
A few minutes passed and then it came. He turned about and smiled overat the sweet grey eyes which were so frankly appealing. There was achange, a great change in them. All the trouble seemed to have passedout of them. And the weary brain behind them seemed at last to havefound that rest it so seriously needed.
"Ruxton," she murmured. "Can you--can you ever forgive me for--what----"
The man was at the bedside again. This time he was not sitting. He wasleaning across it, and his arms were outstretched and thrust about hersoft, warm body, where she leant against the cushions. His face wasdrawn up within a few inches of hers. His eyes were on a level withhers. They were smiling into the deeps of grey beauty before them. Nay,the tragedy of it, he was laughing into them.
"Promising to marry Von Salzinger? If I had been in your place Ishouldn't have promised. I'd have married him right off if it were tosave me from being murdered." Then his laugh died
out abruptly. "Don'tthink of it, my beautiful Vita. Don't ever let the thought of it enteryour dear, dear head again. If ever a poor defenceless woman wentthrough an earthly hell, you did. Sweetheart, it's my sole purpose inlife now to endeavor to place you in an earthly heaven."
He drew her to him in a passionate embrace. And so their lips met andlingered.