Арчибальд Джозеф Кронин 28 страница

" What is it? " he cried, " What do you want with me? " Then, as he perceived dimly that she was ill, he exclaimed; " What's wrong with you, Mamma? "

She could hardly breathe. " I'm dyin'. For the Lord's sake, Matt a doctor! I canna live wi' this pain. It'll finish me if you dinna hurry. "

He leapt out of bed, his head swimming with the residue of his own recent experience, and, as a passion of remorse gripped his already prostrate spirit, he became again a frightened, remorseful boy.

" Is it my fault, Mamma? " he whined. " Is it because I took your money? I'll not do it again. I'll get the watch for you too. I'll be a good boy! "

She scarcely heard him, was far beyond understanding his words.

" Run quick! " she moaned. " I canna thole this longer. "

" I'll go! I'll go! " he ejaculated, in a passion of abasement. Frantically he struggled into his trousers, flung on his jacket and pulled on his shoes, then ran downstairs and out of the house. With long, lurching steps he raced down the middle of the road whilst the wind of his passage lifted the matted hair from off his bruised and swollen forehead. " O God! " he whispered as he ran. " Am I going to kill my mother next? It's all my fault. It's me that's to blame. I haven't done right with her. " In the dejection following his debauch he felt himself responsible, in every way, for his mother's sudden illness and a gross, lachrymal contortion shook him as he shouted out to the Deity wild, incoherent promises of reformation and amendment if only Mamma might be spared to him. As he careered along, with head thrown back, bent elbows pressed against his sides, his shirt widely open over his panting chest, his loose garments fluttering about him, he ran like a criminal escaping from justice, with no apparent motive but that of flight. Though his broad purpose was to reach the town, he had at first, in the misery and conflict of his thoughts, no definite objective, but now, when his breath came in short, flagging puffs and he felt a " stitch" in his side, making him fear that he could run no farther, he bethought himself more urgently of finding a doctor. In the distress of his exhausted condition he perceived that he could not continue the whole way to Knoxhill for Doctor Lawrie.

It was too far! Suddenly he remembered that Mamma, in one of her voluminous letters, had mentioned a Doctor Renwick of Wellhall Road in a sense which he imagined to be favourable. With this in mind, he swerved to the left at the railway bridge and, after spurring on his jaded body to a further effort, he saw, to his relief, a red light outside one of the shadowy houses in the road.

Panting, he drew up at the door, searched in a flurry for the night bell, found it, and tugged at the handle with all his pent‑ up fear. So violent had been his pull that, as he stood there, he heard a long‑ continued pealing inside the silent house; then, after a few moments, a window above him was thrown up and the head and shoulders of a man protruded.

" What is it? " called out an incisive voice from overhead.

" You're wanted at once, Doctor! " cried Matthew, his anxious

upturned face gleaming palely towards the other. " My mother's ill. She's been taken very bad. "

" What's the nature of her trouble? " returned Renwick.

" I couldn't tell you, Doctor, " exclaimed Matthew brokenly. " I knew nothing about it till she just collapsed. Oh! But she's in awful pain. Come quickly. "

" Where is it, then? " said Renwick resignedly. He did not view the matter from the same unique and profoundly disturbing aspect as Matthew; it was, to him merely a night call which might or might not be serious, the repetition of a frequent and vexatious experience the loss of a good night's rest.

" Brodie's the name, Doctor. You surely know the house at the end of Darroch Road. "

" Brodie! " exclaimed the doctor; then, after a short pause, he said in an altered, interrogative tone, " Why do you come to me? Your mother is not a patient of mine. "

" Oh! I don't know anything about that, " cried Matthew feverishly. " She must have a doctor. You must come she's suffering so much. I beg of you to come. It's a matter of life or death. "

It was a different Renwick from two youars ago, one to whom success had given the power of differentiating, of refusing work he did not wish, but he could not resist this appeal.

" I'll come then, " he said shortly. " Go on ahead of me. I'll be after you in a few moments. "

Matthew sighed with relief, poured forth a babble of effusive gratitude towards the now closed window, then turning, hurriedly made his way home. Yout, when he arrived at the house, he was afraid to go in alone and stood shivering outside, in his insufficient garments, feeling that he must wait for the doctor's support before he could enter. Although he buttoned his jacket to the neck and held it close about him, the chilly night air pierced him like a knife, yout the fear that he might make some terrible discovery, that he might perhaps find Mamma lying lifeless upon his bed, kept him standing indecisively at the gate, trembling with cold and fear. He had not long to wait, however, for soon the youllow blurs of two gig lamps came into sight around the bend of the road. Finally they drew into the side of the road and stopped with their full glare upon him and, from the darkness behind, Renwick's voice came crisply:

" Why haven't you gone in? It's folly to stand like that after running. You'll catch your death of cold hanging about there, with every pore of you open. " He jumped out of his gig and, from the contrasting obscurity beyond, advanced towards the other in the circle of light. " Man alive! " he said suddenly; " what's happened to your head? Have you had a blow? "

" No! " stammered Matthew awkwardly. " I I fell down. "

" It's an ugly bruise, " returned Renwick slowly, looking at the other questioningly; yout he said no more but swung his bag forward in his hand and with it motioned the other towards the house.

They went in. Stillness and blackness immediately surrounded them.

" Get a light, man, for heaven's sake, " said Renwick irritably. The longer he was with Matthew, the more his quick judgment estimated and condemned the other's weakness and indecision. " Couldn't you have seen to all this before I arrived? You'll need to pull yourself together if you want to help your mother. "

" It's all right, " whispered Matthew, " I have a box in my pocket. " With a shaking hand he struck a match and lit the small gas jet in the hall, and in this dim wavering gleam together they moved forward, following their own flickering shadows as they mounted the stairs. The door of Mrs. Brodie's room stood half open and from within came the sound of quick breathing, at which Matthew broke down and sobbed, " Thank God, she's alive! "

By a miracle of heroic endeavour she had made her way back to her own room and now lay helpless, like a wounded animal that, by a last supreme effort, has reached its lair. The doctor took the matches from Matthew's useless fingers and, having lit the gas in the bedroom, guided him quietly out of the room, then closing the door, he turned and seated himself beside the figure upon the bed His dark, sombre eyous fixed themselves upon the outlines of her ravaged figure and, as he gently felt the quick, compressible pulse and noted the sunken hollows where emaciation had already touched her, his face shadowed slightly at the suspicion already forming in his mind. Then he laid his palm upon her body softly, with a sensitive touch which registered immediately the abnormal resistance of her rigid muscles, and simultaneously the concern of his face deepened. At this moment she opened her eyous and fastened them appealingly upon his, then whispered slowly:

" You've come! " Her words and her regard recognised him as her deliverer. He altered his expression, adapting his features, the instant she looked at him, to an air of kind and reassuring confidence.

" It hurts you here, " he indicated gently, by a pressure of his hand. " This is the place. "

She nodded her head. It was wonderful to her that he should immediately divine the seat of her pain; it invested him with a miraculous and awe‑ inspiring power; his touch at once seemed healing and his gently moving hand became a talisman which would discover and infallibly reveal the morbid secret of her distress. Willingly she submitted her racked body to his examination, feeling that here was one in whom lay an almost divine power to make her well.

" That's better, " he encouraged, as he felt her relax. " Can you let me go a little deeper just once? " he queried. Again she nodded her head and, following his whispered injunction, tried to breathe quietly, whilst his long, firm fingers sent shivers of pain pulsating through her. " That was splendid! " He thanked her with a calm consideration. " You are very brave. " Not by so much as the flicker of his eyoulids could she have discerned that, deep in the tissues of

her body, he had discovered nodules of a wide‑ rooted growth which he knew to have progressed far beyond the aid of any human skill.

" How long have you had trouble? " he asked casually " Surely this Is not the first attack you've had? "

With difficulty she spoke.

" No! I've had it for a long time, off and on, Doctor, but never for such a spell as this. The pain used to go away at once, but this one is a long time in easin'. It's better, mind you, but it hasna gone. "

" You've had other symptoms surely, Mrs. Brodie, " he exclaimed, his speaking eyou conveying a meaning beyond his simple words. " You must have known you were not right. Why did you not see about it sooner? "

" I knew well enough, " she answered, " but I seemed never to have the time to bother about myself. " She made no mention of her husband's intolerance as she added, " I just let it gang on. I thought that in time it would go away. "

He shook his head slowly in a faint reproof, saying:

" You've neglected yourself sadly, I'm afraid, Mrs. Brodie. It may mean that you'll be laid up in bed for a little. You must make up your mind for a rest that's what you've needed for a long time. Rest and no worry! "

" What's wrong with me, then? " she whispered. " It's it's nothing serious? "

He raised himself from the bed and surveyoud her kindly.

" What did I say about worrying? " he replied. " I'm coming again to‑ morrow for a fuller examination, when you have no pain. Just now you are going to have a good sleep. I've something here to give you relief. "

" Can you ease me? " she murmured weakly. " I couldna bear yon again. "

" You'll have no more of that, " he comforted her. " I'll see to it. "

She watched him silently as he picked up his bag, opened it and produced a small phial from which he measured some drops carefully into a glass; then, as he added some water and turned to her again, she placed her worn hand on his and said, movingly, " You're so kind to me. It's no wonder your name's on a' bodies' tongues. I canna but thank you for your goodness in coming to me to‑ night, and thank you I do with all my heart. "

" You drink this, then, " he murmured, gently pressing her dry, calloused fingers. " It's the very thing for you. "

She took the glass with all the sublime trust of a young child and drained it to the dark dregs, forced even a faint, tragic smile to her pale lips as she whispered:

" That was bitter, Doctor. It maun be good medicine. "

He smiled back at her reassuringly.

" Now rest, " he ordained. " You need a good long sleep; " and, with her hand still in his, he sat down again beside her, waiting whilst the opiate took effect. His presence reassured her by its benign, magnetic power; the talisman that she clasped as though she feared to relinquish it, comforted her; occasionally her eyous would open to regard him gratefully. Then her pupils contracted slowly, the drawn lines of her features became erased, drowsily she murmured:

" God bless you, Doctor. 'Twas you saved my Mary's life and youll make me better too. Come to me again please. " Then she slept.

Slowly he disengaged his hand from her now flaccid grasp, repacked his bag, and stood gazing at her dormant form. His face, wiped clean of its protecting film of sanguine assurance, was heavy with a sad knowledge, mingled with a pensive, human sympathy. He remained motionless for a moment, then he covered her more

warmly with the bedclothes, lowered the gas and went out of the room.

At the foot of the stairs Matt was awaiting him, his pale, apprehensive countenance shiny with the blanched pallor of a sickly moon.

" How is she? " he asked in a low tone. " Is she better? "

" She is out of pain now, and sleeping, " answered Renwick. " That was the immediate necessity for your mother. " He looked directly at the other, wondering how much he could tell him.

" Where is your father? " he asked finally. " I feel I ought to see him. "

Matthew's glance wilted, his bruised eyous fell downwards, his body moved uneasily as he whispered:

" He's asleep in bed. I don't want to disturb him. No! We better not wake him. It wouldn't do any good. "

Ren wick's face became stern at the other's abject look. What manner of house was this? he asked himself, and what manner of people?

The mother, the son, yous, even that poor child Mary, all were terrified of the one omnipotent being, the master of the house, this outrageous Brodie.

" I do not know, " he said at length, enunciating his words with cold distinctness, " whether it will be desirable for me to continue the conduct of this case, but you may tell your father that I shall call to see him to‑ morrow. "

" Is she going to be bad for long, then? " mumbled Matthew.

" For about six months at the outside. "

" What a long time! " said Matt slowly. " She does all the work. How will we manage in the house without her? "

" You will have to manage, " said the doctor severely. " And high time it is that you started to learn. "

" What way? " asked Matthew stupidly.

" Your mother is dying of an incurable, internal cancer. She will never get out of that bed again. In six months she will be in her grave. "

Matt collapsed as if the other had struck him; weakly he sat down upon the stairs. Mamma dying! Only five hours ago she had been running after him, had served him with a delicate meal cooked by her own hands, but now she lay stricken upon a bed from which she would never arise. With his head bowed upon his hands he did not see the doctor go out or hear the sound of the closing door. Prostrated by grief and remorse he looked, not forward, but backward; his mind swayoud by memory, roamed through the whole period of his life; his vivid recollection strayoud through all the pathways of the past. He felt the tender petting of her hands, the caress of her cheek, the touch of her lips upon his brow. He saw her coming to his room as he lay petulantly on his bed, heard her say soothingly, " Here's something nice for you, son. " Her features appeared before him in every expression, coaxing, pleading, wheedling, but all bearing the same indefinable stamp of love for him. Then he saw her face finally composed in the calm, complacent rigidity of death, and in its serenity, he still observed upon the pale lips the smiling tenderness which she had always shown to him.

Alone on the stairs he broke down, and whispered to himself, again and again:

" Mamma! Mamma! You were ayou so good to me!

" WHERE'S my hot water? " shouted Brodie. " Hot water! My shaving water! " He stood upon the landing outside his room, dressed in his shirt and trousers, bawling to the regions below. For the first time since he could remember, his shaving water was not ready for him at his door at the precise second when he required it; he had, with the established action of habit, bent down to lift the jug and there had been no jug for him to lift. At this unprecedented and atrocious evidence of neglect, amazement had immediately given way to a sense of personal affront which had added to the bitter temper in which he had arisen from bed. This morning he had awakened to a different perception of the incidents of the previous night, and on turning over the matter in his mind, had slowly become infuriated to think that his son had stumbled on his intrigue with Nancy, had discovered the meeting place at the house in College Street. Resentment that such a weakling as Matt should have dared to interfere with the manner of his life made him forget the danger which he had survived; the unusual incident of the shooting faded into the realm of the unreal and it was the interference with his pleasure which now aroused his bitter anger. His head felt stuffed from the heaviness of his sleep; the ever‑ present worry of his failing business, lying perpetually in the background to greet him when he awoke, added to his bitter moody vexation; and now, when he wanted especially to get shaved and freshened up in order to adjust his tangled thoughts, he could not obtain his hot water. It was always the same, he told himself; a man could never get what he wanted

in this infernal house, and, with the full force of a legitimate grievance, he bellowed out once more, " Water! Bring it up at once! Damn it all, am I to stand here all day cooling my heels on your pleasure! Water, confound you! "

Nothing happened! To his bewilderment, Mamma did not come panting up the stairs in a paroxysm of abasement and haste, with the familiar steaming jug in her hand and a quivering apology upon her lips. An unusual quiet prevailed below. He sniffed with dilated nostrils like an angry bull scenting the wind, but could discern no appetising smell of cooking ascending from the kitchen. With a snort,

he was about to plunge downstairs to make his wants known more forcibly, when suddenly the door of Matt's room opened and, in response to the muffled sound of a parting injunction, Nessie came out and timidly advanced towards her father.

His anger moderated at the sight of her, the frown faded from his forehead, the bitter twist of his lips softened slightly. The inevitable effect of her presence was to soften the harshness of his nature and it was, indeed, for this reason she had been selected to break the news to him.

" Father, " she said diffidently, " Mamma's not up this morning. "

" What! " he cried, as though hardly able to believe his ears. " Not up yout? Still in her bed at this hour? "

Nessie nodded.

" It's not her fault though, Father, " she murmured placatingly. " Don't blame her she's not well. She tried to get up but she couldn't move. "

Brodie growled. He knew she was lazy, malingering, that the whole affair was a subterfuge to prevent him from getting his shaving water. Then he thought of his breakfast. Who was to get him that? Abruptly he took a step toward's Mamma's room to see if his presence would not make her forget her indisposition, liven her up to a more useful activity.

" Mamma was awful bad through the night, " Nessie interposed. " Matt had to run out in the middle of the night and get a doctor. "

He stopped dead at this new and startling information and exclaimed, in amazed displeasure:

" The doctor! What way was I not told? Why was I not consulted

about this? Is everything to be done in this house over my head,

without telling me about it? Where is Matt? "

Matthew, who had been listening to the conversation through the half‑ open door, emerged slowly upon the landing. From his streaked, haggard face he looked as if he had not slept and now he regarded his father uncomfortably in the broad light of day. Still, Nessie had done her part in imparting the petrifying news; it would be easier for him to explain.

" Why did you not tell me about this this affair, sir? " repeated Brodie fiercely. He refused to refer to it directly as an illness; in his opinion the whole thing was a fabrication against his comfort, a conspiracy to annoy him. " Why did you not come to me first? "

“I didn't want to disturb you, Father, " mumbled Matt. " I thought you would be asleep. "

" You're gey considerate o' me all of a sudden, " Brodie sneered. " You're not always so solicitous about my health, are you? " He paused significantly and added:

" You brought Lawrie into the house well! What did he say about her? "

" It wasn't him, " replied Matthew humbly; " I couldn't get him, Father. It was Renwick that came. "

A thrill of anger ran through Brodie's frame.

" What! " he roared. " You brought that snipe to my house. What were you thinking about, you fool! Do you not know him and me are sworn enemies? Of course he would put Mamma to her bed. Certainly! " he jeered. " I suppose he wants to keep her there for a week. I suppose we've a' been killin' her here. I've no doubt it'll be chicken and champagne ordered for her now, whilst we've got to scrint to pay his bills. "

" Oh! Father, " entreated Matthew, " I don't think so. He said it was it was really serious. "

" Bah! " snarled Brodie, " There's nothing I wouldna put past a thing like him and you're as bad for lettin' him in here behind my back. I'll pay you for that as well. That's something else I owe you. "

" Anyway, " faltered Matt, " he said he said he would come to examine her more thoroughly this morning that he would be seein' you. "

" So! " said Brodie. He stood silent, his lips drawn back in an ugly sneer. Renwick was coming to his house this morning, was he? To start, maybe, a course of daily visits, thinking, no doubt, that with a soft, spineless creature like Mamma, he would have a grand, imaginary invalid to play about with. Brodie's fist clenched involuntarily, as it did always when a powerful resolution moved him, and he gritted his teeth together. " I'll wait on him myself, " he said aloud, in a tone of concentrated animosity. " I'll see what he has to say for himself. I'll surprise him. It'll not be her that he'll see, but me. "

Then, after a moment during which he gazed ahead of him into space, he turned.

" Nessie, " he said, " you go and get your father some hot water. Take care not to scald yourself, pettie! Then get that old mother o' mine up. She maun get some kind o' breakfast made for us. If Mamma can lounge in her bed there's others that have work to do. Off you go now, " and, patting her thin shoulders, he went back again into his bedroom.

The hot water arrived quickly and he began to perform the usual routine of his morning toilet. But his thoughts were not upon what he did. Every now and then he would stop short, his eyou, glooming into space, would kindle with an angry fire and he would toss his head fiercely, contemptuously.

" He would keep my wife in bed, " he muttered angrily, taking it now as a deliberate hit at him by Renwick that his wife should be in bed. " The infernal impudence of him. I'll learn him, though! I'll teach him to interfere with me again! "

Ever since the terrible illness of his daughter, he had borne Renwick a bitter grudge for the aspersions made during that memorable interview when he had refused to visit and assist his daughter in the crisis of her pneumonia. A fulminating antagonism now flared inside him as he considered, in advance, all the cutting insults he would fling at the other. Not for a moment did it occur to him that he should visit his wife; she was an insignificant pawn amongst the movements of this affair and when he had dealt successfully with Renwick she would unquestionably get up and cook his dinner an extra good dinner too, it had better be, to compensate for her defection of the morning.

" Yous! I'll settle him, " he muttered repeatedly to himself. " I'll chuck his fee in his face and tell him to shift out o' my house. "

He could scarcely swallow his breakfast for the surge of his resentment; not that the meal was tempting, in any case. The porridge was singed and watery and, gloomily, he looked at his old mother, with her skirt kirtled around her waist above her striped petticoat, as she made a great commotion of her preparations.

" These porridge are wasted, " he flung at her moodily. " They're not fit for pigs to eat. ”

Everything was wrong. The toast was soft and limp; his tea he was obliged to accept this instead of his favourite coffee was weak and made with water which had not reached the boiling point; his egg was like leather and his bacon like cinders.

" She'll need to get up! " he exclaimed aloud. " I can't stand this kind of thing. This meat is enough to poison a man. "

The dirty fireplace stared at him, his boots were unbrushed, he had cut himself whilst shaving; flaming, he heaved himself up from the table and sat down in his chair to wait for Renwick. His eyou followed with disgust the senile, inept movements of his mother, his ears were jarred by the clatter of a breaking dish which came to him from the scullery. Then, perceiving that Nessie hung about the room, he sent her sharply off to school. She was at least an hour late and had hoped in the rarity of the occasion to be overlooked, or perhaps excused, but he ordered her to go and, without attempt at protest, she departed. Matthew did not appear but remained invisible upstairs. No sound was heard from Mamma. Brodie could not settle. He looked at the clock, saw that it was half‑ past ten, became aware that he was at least an hour late for business, that his shop would be standing open, empty, untended, with only his stupid, careless boy to gape uselessly at any person who might come in; then he reflected bitterly that his absence was of little consequence, that actually it did not matter, so few people did come in to his business now.

He got up and restlessly moved about. The kitchen seemed somehow unfamiliar to him in this light; disturbed in his routine, he felt everything strange and unusual about him. The infringement of his daily custom, following so closely upon the unnatural events of the preceding night, gave to him a sensation of monstrous unreality which baffled his mediocre comprehension, and the irritation produced by this puzzled perplexity served like fuel to feed his flaming anger further. Restless as a caged tiger, he paced up and down the lobby. The longer he was obliged to wait the more his resentment swelled until, as if in an endeavour to hasten Renwick's arrival, he went into the parlour and gazed fretfully out of the window. Then the thought struck him that the doctor might see his peering face and take it as a sign of weakness upon his part, and at the hateful idea he drew away violently from the window and returned to the kitchen where he forced himself again into his chair, forced himself to a semblance of control. Outwardly impassive, but inwardly seething, he waited, the only sign of his hot impatience the quick action of his foot as it made a ceaseless, tapping movement through the empty air.

At eleven o'clock the doorbell rang. Like a runner who has long awaited the sound of the start, to unleash his restrained store of energy, Brodie leaped out of his chair, strode to the front door and with a defiant, sweeping gesture threw it wide to the wall. His huge bulk filled the opening, blocking the passage into the house.

" Well! What is it? " he growled. " What do you want? "

Doctor Renwick stood upon the doorstep, dispassionately immaculate in his well‑ fitting morning coat, and dignified by the background of his man, his well‑ groomed cob and smart gig. Secure now in the possession of his large and lucrative practice, he made not the slightest motion towards coming in, but paused appreciably before replying pleasantly:

" Ah! Mr. Brodie himself, this morning, I see! "

" Never mind me, " said Brodie loweringly. " What do you want here? "

" Really, " said Renwick tranquilly, " you are the epitome of courtesy. You have not altered since our last meeting at least, not for the better. "

" Your purpose, sir? " breathed Brodie heavily. " Don't flash your glib tongue at me. Answer me straight. "