Crossing the road, she passed into the cottage-garden, where sunflowers and Michaelmas daisies in great profusion were tangled along the low red-brick garden-walls, under some poplar trees yellow-flecked already. A single empty chair, with a book turned face downward, stood outside an open window. Smoke wreathing from one chimney was the only sign of life. But, standing undecided before the half-open door, Gyp was conscious, as it were, of too much stillness, of something unnatural about the silence. She was just raising her hand to knock when she heard the sound of smothered sobbing. Peeping through the window, she could just see a woman dressed in green, evidently Mrs. Wagge, seated at a table, crying into her handkerchief. At that very moment, too, a low moaning came from the room above. Gyp recoiled; then, making up her mind, she went in and knocked at the room where the woman in green was sitting. After fully half a minute, it was opened, and Mrs. Wagge stood there. The nose and eyes and cheeks of that thinnish, acid face were red, and in her green dress, and with her greenish hair (for it was going grey and she put on it a yellow lotion smelling of cantharides), she seemed to Gyp just like one of those green apples that turn reddish so unnaturally in the sun.
She had rubbed over her face, which shone in streaks, and her handkerchief was still crumpled in her hand. It was horrible to come, so fresh and glowing, into the presence of this poor woman, evidently in bitter sorrow. And a desperate desire came over Gyp to fly. It seemed dreadful for anyone connected with him who had caused this trouble to be coming here at all. But she said as softly as she could:
"Mrs. Wagge? Please forgive me--but is there any news? I am-- It was I who got Daphne down here."The woman before her was evidently being torn this way and that, but at last she answered, with a sniff:
"It--it--was born this morning--dead." Gyp gasped. To have gone through it all for that! Every bit of mother-feeling in her rebelled and sorrowed; but her reason said: Better so! Much better! And she murmured:
"How is she?"
Mrs. Wagge answered, with profound dejection:
"Bad--very bad. I don't know I'm sure what to say--my feelings are all anyhow, and that's the truth. It's so dreadfully upsetting altogether.""Is my nurse with her?"
"Yes; she's there. She's a very headstrong woman, but capable, Idon't deny. Daisy's very weak. Oh, it IS upsetting! And now Isuppose there'll have to be a burial. There really seems no end to it. And all because of--of that man." And Mrs. Wagge turned away again to cry into her handkerchief.
Feeling she could never say or do the right thing to the poor lady, Gyp stole out. At the bottom of the stairs, she hesitated whether to go up or no. At last, she mounted softly. It must be in the front room that the bereaved girl was lying--the girl who, but a year ago, had debated with such naive self-importance whether or not it was her duty to take a lover. Gyp summoned courage to tap gently. The economic agent opened the door an inch, but, seeing who it was, slipped her robust and handsome person through into the corridor.
"You, my dear!" she said in a whisper. "That's nice!""How is she?"
"Fairly well--considering. You know about it?""Yes; can I see her?"
"I hardly think so. I can't make her out. She's got no spirit, not an ounce. She doesn't want to get well, I believe. It's the man, I expect." And, looking at Gyp with her fine blue eyes, she asked: "Is that it? Is he tired of her?"Gyp met her gaze better than she had believed possible.
"Yes, nurse."
The economic agent swept her up and down. "It's a pleasure to look at you. You've got quite a colour, for you. After all, I believe it MIGHT do her good to see you. Come in!"Gyp passed in behind her, and stood gazing, not daring to step forward. What a white face, with eyes closed, with fair hair still damp on the forehead, with one white hand lying on the sheet above her heart! What a frail madonna of the sugar-plums! On the whole of that bed the only colour seemed the gold hoop round the wedding-finger.
The economic agent said very quietly:
"Look, my dear; I've brought you a nice visitor."Daphne Wing's eyes and lips opened and closed again. And the awful thought went through Gyp: 'Poor thing! She thought it was going to be him, and it's only me!' Then the white lips said:
"Oh, Mrs. Fiorsen, it's you--it is kind of you!" And the eyes opened again, but very little, and differently.
The economic agent slipped away. Gyp sat down by the bed and timidly touched the hand.
Daphne Wing looked at her, and two tears slowly ran down her cheeks.
"It's over," she said just audibly, "and there's nothing now--it was dead, you know. I don't want to live. Oh, Mrs. Fiorsen, why can't they let me die, too?"Gyp bent over and kissed the hand, unable to bear the sight of those two slowly rolling tears. Daphne Wing went on:
"You ARE good to me. I wish my poor little baby hadn't--"Gyp, knowing her own tears were wetting that hand, raised herself and managed to get out the words:
"Bear up! Think of your work!"
"Dancing! Ho!" She gave the least laugh ever heard. "It seems so long ago.""Yes; but now it'll all come back to you again, better than ever."Daphne Wing answered by a feeble sigh.
There was silence. Gyp thought: 'She's falling asleep.'
With eyes and mouth closed like that, and all alabaster white, the face was perfect, purged of its little commonnesses. Strange freak that this white flower of a face could ever have been produced by Mr. and Mrs. Wagge!
Daphne Wing opened her eyes and said:
"Oh! Mrs. Fiorsen, I feel so weak. And I feel much more lonely now. There's nothing anywhere."Gyp got up; she felt herself being carried into the mood of the girl's heart, and was afraid it would be seen. Daphne Wing went on:
"Do you know, when nurse said she'd brought a visitor, I thought it was him; but I'm glad now. If he had looked at me like he did--Icouldn't have borne it."
Gyp bent down and put her lips to the damp forehead. Faint, very faint, there was still the scent of orange-blossom.
