From Out the Vasty Deep by Mrs. Belloc Lowndes

M >> Mrs. Belloc Lowndes >> From Out the Vasty Deep

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And then, all at once, some instinct caused the young man to wheel
sharply round, to see, a long way back from the others, Varick standing
solitary on the brick path.

His companion had vanished. It was as if the earth had swallowed her up.

"Where's Bubbles?" shouted Donnington.

But Varick, still standing in the middle of the path, did not look as
if he heard Donnington's question. The young man set off running towards
him.

"What's happened?" he cried fiercely. "Where's Bubbles, Varick?"

Varick was ashen; and he looked dazed--utterly unlike his usual
collected self.

"She stumbled--and went over the side of the embankment. She's in the
water, down there," he said at last, in a hoarse, stifled voice.

Donnington turned quickly, and stared down into the grey water. He could
see nothing--nothing! He threw off his coat.

"Was it just here?"

He looked at Varick with a feeling of anguished exasperation; it was as
if the horror and the shock had congealed the man's mental faculties.

Suddenly Varick roused himself.

"Can you swim?" He gripped Donnington strongly by the arm. "If not,
it's--it's no good your going in--you'd only drown too."

Donnington wrenched himself free from the other's hold, and, rushing
down the bank, threw himself into the icy cold water....

Suddenly he saw, a long way off, a small, shapeless, mass rising ... he
swam towards it, and then he gave a sobbing gasp of relief. It was
Bubbles ... Bubbles already unconscious; but of that he was vaguely
glad, knowing that it would much simplify his task.

Very soon, although he was quite unaware of it, the affrighted, startled
little crowd of people gathered together just above the place where he
was painfully, slowly, swimming about, looking for a spot where he
could try and effect a landing with his now heavy, inert burden.

Dr. Panton threw himself down flat across the path and held out a
walking stick over the slippery mud bank, but the stick was hopelessly,
grotesquely out of Donnington's reach.

All at once Blanche Farrow detached herself from the others and began
running towards the cottage which formed the apex of the reservoir. "I'm
going for a rope," she called out. "I'll be back in three or four
minutes." But, thanks to Dr. Panton's ingenuity, the man in the water
had not to wait even so short a time as that.

"Have any of you a good long scarf?" asked the doctor, and then, quite
eagerly for him, James Tapster produced a wonderful scarf--the sort of
scarf a millionaire would wear, so came the whimsical thought to Sir
Lyon. It was wide and very long, made of the finest knitted silk. When
firmly tied to the handle of the walking stick, the floating end of the
scarf was within reach of Donnington. With its help he even managed to
secure a foothold on the narrow one-brick ledge which terminated the
deep underwater wall of the reservoir.

The doctor called down to him with some urgency: "I wish you could
manage to hoist her up, Donnington. _Time_ is of the utmost importance
in these cases!"

But Donnington, try as he might, was too spent to obey; and it seemed an
eternity to them all before Blanche Farrow reappeared, helping an old
man to drag a short ladder along the muddy path.

And then, at last, after many weary, fruitless efforts, the inert,
sodden mass which had so lately been poor little Bubbles Dunster was
pushed and hoisted up the slippery bank, and stretched out on to the
narrow brick way.

Mr. Tapster, who had shown much more agitation and feeling than any of
those present would have credited him with, had taken off his big loose
coat and laid it on the ground, and at once Varick had followed his
example. But as Bubbles lay there, in the dreadful immobility of utter
unconsciousness, both Blanche Farrow and Helen Brabazon believed her to
be dead.

A tragic, fearfully anxious time of suspense followed. Blanche looked
on, with steady, dry eyes, but Helen, after a very little while, turned
away and hid her face in her hands, sobbing, while the doctor was
engaged in the painful process of trying to bring the apparently drowned
girl to life. More than once Blanche felt tempted to implore him to
leave off those terribly arduous efforts of his. It seemed to her so--so
horrible, almost degrading, that Bubbles' delicate little body should be
used like that.

Everyone was too concerned over Bubbles to trouble about her rescuer.
But all at once Varick exclaimed: "We don't want you down with rheumatic
fever. I'll just march you back to the house, my boy!"

"Not as long as she's here," muttered Donnington, his teeth chattering.
"I'm all right; it doesn't matter about me."

He alone of the people gathered there believed that Dr. Panton's
perseverance would be rewarded, and that Bubbles would come back to
life. It did not seem to him possible that that which he had saved, and
which he so loved and cherished, could die. Though he was beginning to
feel the reaction of all he had gone through, his mind was working
clearly, and he was praying--praying consciously, in an agony of
supplication.

And at last, with a sensation of relief which brought the tears starting
to his eyes, Dr. Panton saw that his efforts were to be successful;
Bubbles, after a little choking gasp, gave a long, fluttering sigh....

It was then that the doctor had to thank Sir Lyon and Helen Brabazon.
One of them, or both of them together, had thought of going back to the
house and of getting an invalid chair which Helen remembered having seen
in a corner of one of the rooms when she had been shown over the house
by her host.

Even so, it was a very melancholy little procession which followed the
two men carrying the chair on which Bubbles now lay in apathetic
silence.

* * * * *

But everything comes to an end at last, and, after having seen Bubbles
put to bed, Dr. Panton turned his attention to Donnington, and he did
not leave his second patient till the young man felt, if still shivery
and queer, fairly comfortable in bed. Then the doctor went down to find
the other three men in the dining-room, having hot drinks.

Of the three Varick and Sir Lyon showed on their faces traces of the
emotion and anxiety which they had been through; but James Tapster
looked his normal, phlegmatic self.

"I wonder what exactly happened?" exclaimed Panton at last. "I suppose
the whole thing was owing to these high-heeled shoes which women _will_
wear."

Varick nodded, and, as he saw that Panton expected him to say
something, he muttered: "Yes, it must have been something of the kind
that made her trip."

"It was a near thing," went on the doctor thoughtfully. "She was very
far gone when we got her out at last. I don't mind admitting now that,
when I began, I had hardly any hope of being able to bring her round."

He waited a moment and then added, as if to himself: "In fact, there
came a time when I would have left off, discouraged, but for the look on
that boy's face."

"What boy?" asked Tapster, surprised.

"Donnington, of course! I felt I must bring her back to life for his
sake."

James Tapster opened his mouth. Then he shut it again. He told himself
that it would, of course, have been very disappointing for Donnington to
have plunged into that icy water all for nothing, as it were.

The four men remained silent for awhile, and then Varick said slowly:
"She can't have been in the water more than a minute before Donnington
was in after her--for of course I gave the alarm at once."

Sir Lyon looked at him quickly. "I thought Donnington turned round and
missed her?"

"Donnington must have heard me call out." Varick was lighting a
cigarette, and Sir Lyon saw that his hand shook; "and yet when I saw her
roll down the bank I was so paralyzed with horror that my voice seemed
to go."

He looked appealingly at his friend Panton.

"Yes, I can well understand that," said the doctor feelingly. "I have
known shock close the throat absolutely." He added: "Did you see her
sink and rise again twice before Donnington got at her, Varick? I have
always wondered whether drowning people always come up three times--or
if it's only an old wives' tale."

"Yes, no, I can't remember--"

Varick put his hand over his eyes, as if trying to shut out some
dreadful sight. Then he groped his way to a chair, and sat down heavily.

"I say, Varick, I _am_ sorry."

Dr. Panton looked really concerned. "We've been thinking so much of Miss
Bubbles and of her rescuer that we have forgotten you!" he exclaimed.

Their host leant forward; he buried his face in his hands. "I shall
never forget it--never," he muttered brokenly. "The horror that seized
me--the awful feeling that I could do nothing--nothing! I felt so
absolutely distraught that I seemed to see _myself_, not Bubbles,
floating down there--on the surface of the water."

He looked up, and they were all, even Tapster, painfully impressed by
his look of retrospective horror. Dr. Panton told himself that Lionel
Varick was an even more sensitive man than he had hitherto known him to
be.

CHAPTER XVII

Dinner was to be half an hour later than usual, and Dr. Panton, as he
went off to his comfortable, warm room, felt pleasantly, healthily
tired.

He had gone in to see his patients for a moment on his way upstairs, and
they were both going on well. Bubbles was beginning to look her own
queer, elfish little self again. She was curiously apathetic, as people
so often are after any kind of shock, but it was clear that there were
to be no bad after-effects of the accident. As for Donnington, the young
man declared that he felt quite all right, and he was even anxious to
get up for dinner. But that, of course, could not be allowed.

"All's well that ends well," muttered the doctor, as he threw himself
for a moment into a chair drawn up invitingly before the fire.

He did go on to tell himself, however, that he now felt a little
concerned over Lionel Varick. Varick now looked far more really ill than
did either Bubbles or Bill Donnington.

The doctor recalled a certain terrible day, rather over a year ago, when
Varick had broken down utterly! It was the afternoon that poor Milly was
being put into her coffin; and, by sheer good luck he, Panton, happened
to call in. He had found Varick sitting alone, looking very desolate, in
the dining-room of the commonplace little villa, while from overhead
there came the sounds of heavy feet moving this way and that.

All at once there had come a loud knock at the front door, and Varick,
starting up, had uttered a fearful cry. Then, sitting down again, he had
begun trembling, as if he had the ague. He, Panton, had been so
concerned at the poor fellow's condition that he had insisted, there and
then, on taking him along to his own house, and he had kept him there as
his guest till the day of Mrs. Varick's funeral.

As these memories came crowding on him, the door of his room opened
quietly, and the man who was filling his mind walked in.

Varick was already dressed for dinner, and, not for the first time, the
doctor told himself what a distinguished-looking man his friend and host
was.

"Panton," said Varick abruptly, "I have something on my mind."

The doctor looked up, surprised. "What is it, my dear fellow?" he asked
kindly.

"I can't help thinking that in some inexplicable way I pushed Bubbles
Dunster over the edge of that embankment. Has she said anything to you
about it?"

Dr. Panton got up and came over to the speaker. He put his hand heavily
on Varick's shoulder, and almost forced him down into the chair from
which he had himself risen.

"Look here," he exclaimed, "this won't do at all! Pull yourself
together, man--you mustn't get such fancies into your head. That way
madness lies. Still, you may as well try and get it off your chest once
for all. Tell me exactly what _did_ happen? Begin at the beginning--"

As Varick remained silent, the doctor went on, encouragingly: "I will
start you by reminding you that Miss Bubbles was wearing the most
absurd high-heeled shoes. Young Donnington spoke to her about them, and
that drew my attention to her feet as we came out of the gate. She even
tripped when we were just past the bridge. Do you remember that?"

"No, I didn't notice her at all."

"Well, tell me exactly what happened just before she fell over the edge
of the embankment?"

"I don't know that there's very much to tell." Varick was now staring
into the fire, but at last he began in a strained, tired voice:

"Donnington had just shouted out that we were walking rather too near to
the edge, and so I took hold of her arm. But you know what Bubbles is
like? She's a queer kind of girl, and she tried to wrench herself free.
Then I gripped a little harder and--well, I don't know exactly what did
happen! I suppose her foot turned, for I suddenly felt her weight full
on me, and then, and then--"

"Yes," said Dr. Panton soothingly, "I know exactly what happened. You
instinctively straightened yourself to try to put her on her feet again,
but she'd already lost her balance--"

"I suppose that's what did happen," said Varick in a low voice.

"--And her foot turning again, she rolled down the steep embankment,"
concluded the doctor firmly. "You did nothing, my dear chap, absolutely
nothing, to bring the accident about! Put that idea, once and for all,
out of your mind."

"I would," said Varick painfully, "I would, but that I'm afraid--in
fact, I feel sure--that she thinks I pushed her in. She turned the most
awful look on me, Panton, as she fell over the edge. I shall never
forget it."

"That look had nothing to do with you," said the doctor decidedly. "It
was simply the terrified look of a human being on the brink of a
frightful death."

"You're a good friend," muttered Varick, getting up. "I'll leave you to
dress now."

"Wait a moment!" exclaimed Panton; "there's one thing about Miss
Bubbles' accident which does trouble me, I admit. It puzzled me at the
time; and I can see it is puzzling young Donnington too."

Varick, who was already at the door, stayed his steps and turned round.

There had come back into his face the strained look which had softened
away while he listened to his friend's sensible remarks. "Yes," he said
impatiently, "yes, Panton? What is it that puzzles you?"

"I wish I knew exactly how long Miss Bubbles was in the water. She was
very, very far gone when that boy managed to clutch hold of her. Did you
see her go down again, and come up again twice? Forgive me, my dear
fellow, I'm afraid I'm distressing you."

"You asked me that downstairs," said Varick, "and I told you then
that--that I didn't know."

"I thought," said Dr. Panton, "that you remembered so clearly all that
had happened--by what you said just now."

"Yes, up to the moment when she fell in, I remember everything. But once
she was in the water everything became blurred. All I can say is that it
seemed as if hours drifted by before I saw you all come running up
towards me--"

"Come, come," said Panton, a trifle impatiently. "As a matter of fact
it can't have been more than three minutes. Still, it was long enough
for the girl to go as near the Great Divide, as a friend of mine calls
it, as I've ever known a human being go."

"I suppose," said Varick slowly, "that if you hadn't been there Bubbles
would now be dead?"

"Well, yes, I'm afraid that's true," said the doctor simply. "I should
have expected that clever, intelligent Miss Farrow, to say nothing of
Miss Brabazon, to know something about First Aid. But neither of them
know anything! The only person who was of the slightest use was young
Donnington; and I suspect--" he smiled broadly.

"What do you suspect?" asked Varick rather quickly.

"Well, I suspect that he's in love with Miss Bubbles."

"Of course he is." Varick's contemptuous tone jarred a little on Panton.
"But Bubbles intends to become Mrs. Tapster."

"I should be sorry to think that!"

"Why sorry? The modern young woman--and Bubbles is a very modern young
woman--knows the value of money," said Varick dryly.

He waited a moment. "I'll leave you now, Panton, and I'll see that the
dinner-bell isn't rung till you're quite ready."

"All right. I won't be ten minutes--"

But Varick lingered by the door. "Panton," he exclaimed, "you've been a
good friend to me! I want to tell you that I shall never forget it. As
long as there's breath in my body I shall be grateful to you."

As the doctor dressed he told himself again that Varick had never
really recovered from the strain of his wife's long illness. Under that
rather exceptionally calm, steadfast-looking exterior, the man was
extraordinarily sensitive. How upset, for instance, Varick had been
about Miss Pigchalke's crazy advertisement. He, Panton, had felt quite
sorry that he had said anything about it.

While putting on his tie, he told himself that what the dear fellow
wanted now was a good, sensible second wife. And then, as he formulated
that thought to himself, the young man--for he was still quite a young
man--stopped what he was doing, and rubbed his hands joyfully. Why, of
course! What a fool he had been never to think of it before--though to
be sure it would really have been almost indecent to have thought of it
before. Helen Brabazon? The very woman for Lionel Varick! Such a
marriage would be the making of his highly-strung, fine-natured friend.

As he hurriedly finished dressing, Panton plumed himself on his
cleverness. With all his heart he hoped the day would come when he would
be able to say to Varick: "Ages before _you_ thought of her, old chap,
_I_ selected Miss Brabazon as your future bride!" He hoped, uneasily,
that Sir Lyon was not seriously in the running. But he had noticed that
Sir Lyon and Miss Brabazon seemed to have a good deal to say to one
another. Women, so he told himself ruefully, like to be "My lady." But
she was certainly fond of Varick--she had been fond of him (of course,
only as a woman may be of a friend's husband) during those sad weeks at
Redsands.

* * * * *

As the doctor came out of his room he decided to go in for a moment and
see Bubbles Dunster. Somehow he did not feel quite easy about her. He
wondered, uncomfortably, if there could be anything in Varick's painful
suspicion. After her aunt and Helen Brabazon between them had put her to
bed, and he had come in, alone, to see how she was, she had said
abruptly: "I wonder if it's true that doctors can keep a secret better
than most men?" And when he had made some joking answer, she had asked,
in a very serious tone: "You're a great friend of Lionel Varick, eh?" He
had answered: "Men don't vow eternal friendships in the way I'm told
young ladies do; but, yes, I hope I am a great friend of Lionel
Varick's. I've a high opinion of him, Miss Bubbles, and I've seen him
under circumstances that test a man."

She had looked at him fixedly while he said these words, and then she
had opened and shut her eyes in a very odd way. He now asked himself if
it was probable--possible--conceivable--that she blamed Varick for her
accident? He, Varick, evidently thought so.

And then, as he walked along the darkened corridor, there came over Dr.
Panton a most extraordinary feeling--_a feeling that he was not alone._

He stayed his steps, and listened intently. But the only sound he heard
was the ticking of a clock. He walked on, and all at once there came a
word repeated twice, quite distinctly, almost as if in his ear. It was a
disagreeable, an offensive word--a word, or rather an appellation, which
the clever young doctor had not heard applied to himself for a good many
years. For, twice over, was the word "Fool!" repeated in a mocking
voice, a voice to whose owner he could not at the moment put a name, and
yet which seemed vaguely familiar.

Then he remembered. Why, of course, it was the voice of that crazy,
unpleasant old woman who had called on him last spring! But how had Miss
Pigchalke found her way into Wyndfell Hall? And where on earth was she?

He looked round him, this way and that; and his eyes, by now accustomed
to the dim light thrown by a hanging lamp, saw everything quite
distinctly. He was certainly alone in the corridor now. But Miss
Pigchalke had as certainly been there a moment ago. He wondered if she
could have hidden herself in a huge oak chest which stood to his right?
Nay, there she could not be, for he remembered having been shown that it
was full of eighteenth-century gala gowns.

And while he was looking about him, feeling utterly perplexed and
bewildered, through a door which was ajar there suddenly passed out
Lionel Varick.

"Is anyone in there?" asked the doctor sharply.

Varick started violently. "You did startle me!" he exclaimed. "No,
there's no one in there--I came up to look for a book. But as I told
them to delay dinner yet a little longer, would you mind if we went in
and saw Bubbles together on our way downstairs? I feel I should rather
like to get my first interview with her over--and with you there."

"I don't see why you shouldn't." But there was a doubtful ring in Dr.
Panton's voice. He would, as a matter of fact, have very much preferred
that Varick should not see the girl to-night, especially if there was
the slightest truth in the other's suspicion that Bubbles believed him
to have been in any way instrumental, however accidentally, in making
her fall into the water.

His mind worked quickly, as minds are apt to work when faced with that
sort of problem, and he decided that on the whole he might as well let
Varick do as he wished.

"You'd better not say very much to her. Just say you hope she's feeling
all right by now--or something of that sort."

But when they came to the closed door of the girl's room he turned and
said: "I'll just go in and prepare her for your visit--if you don't
mind?"

* * * * *

Bubbles was lying straight down in bed, for, at her own request, the
bolster had been taken away. Her head was only just raised up on the
pillow. By the light of the one candle he could see her slender form
outlined under the bed-clothes. Her eyes were closed, her features
pinched and worn. There was something almost deathly in the look of her
little face.

He wondered if she was asleep--if so, it would be rather a relief to him
to go outside the door and tell Varick that she mustn't be disturbed.
But all at once she opened her eyes widely, and there even came the
quiver of a smile over her face.

"Doctor?" she said plaintively. "Doctor, come nearer, I want to ask you
a question."

"Yes?" he said. "What is it, Miss Bubbles?"

"I want to ask you," she said dreamily, "why you brought me back? I was
beginning to feel so much at home in the grey world. There were such
kind people there, waiting to welcome me. Only one friend I felt sad to
leave behind----"

"Tut-tut!" he said, a little startled. "You were never anywhere near
leaving us, Miss Bubbles."

"I know I was, and you know it, too. But you called me back. Confess
that you did!"

"I'll confess nothing of the sort," he answered a little shortly.

There was a little pause, and then he went on, "There's someone outside
the door who wants to see you; someone who's feeling most awfully
miserable about you."

A look of unease and of anxiety came over her face. "D'you mean Mr.
Tapster?" she said hesitatingly.

"Good heavens, no!" He was surprised, and a little disgusted. "Can't you
guess who it is?"

He saw the look in her face grow to shrinking fear. "I can't guess at
all," she said weakly. "You won't allow Bill to get up--I know that
because he sent me a message. Bill's the only person I want to see."

"He'll come soon enough," said Dr. Panton, smiling.

"It was really Bill who saved me," she went on, as if speaking to
herself.

"Of course it was Bill!" he spoke now with hearty assent. "You've a
splendid friend in that young man, Miss Bubbles, and I hope you're
properly grateful to him?"

"I think I am," she said slowly. "I'm trying to be."

"And the other friend who wants to see you--may he come in for a
minute?"

"The other friend? Do you mean Sir Lyon?"

"No, no--of course not!" He spoke with a touch of impatience now.

"Mr. Tapster," said Bubbles, nervously flying off at a tangent, "wants
me to marry him, Dr. Panton. He asked me--was it yesterday morning, or
this morning?" She knitted her brows. "Of course, I had to help him out.
The moment he'd said it, he began to hope that I'd say 'No'--so I
thought I'd punish him, by leaving him in suspense a bit."

"He was very distressed at your accident," said the doctor rather
stiffly. Bubbles' queer confidence had startled him.

"Most men only really want what they feel is out of their reach," she
whispered. "When he thought me gone, he wanted me back again. He's like
that. He'll make a much nicer widower than he will a husband!"

She looked up and smiled, but he felt as if she was keeping him at arm's
length.

"It's Mr. Varick who's outside the door and who wants to come in and see
you," he said suddenly, in a matter-of-fact voice.

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