_ PART IV CHAPTER XXXV. THE ARMISTICE
She could not have said for how long she sat motionless, the slight, inert body clasped against her breast. Vaguely she knew that the night passed, and with it the wondrous silence that had lain like a benediction upon the dawn. A thousand living things awoke to rejoice in the crystal splendour of the morning; but within the quiet room the spell remained unlifted, the silence lay untouched. It was as though the presence of Death had turned it into a peaceful sanctuary that no mere earthly tumult could disturb.
She sat in a species of waking stupor for a long, long time, not daring to move lest the peace that enfolded her should be shattered. Higher and higher the sun climbed up the sky till at last it topped the cedar-trees and shone in upon her, throwing a single ray of purest gold across the foot of the bed. Fascinated, she watched it travel slowly upwards, till a silent, one-armed figure arose and softly drew the curtain.
The room grew dim again. The world was shut out. She was not conscious of physical fatigue, only of a certain weariness of waiting, waiting for she knew not what. It seemed interminable, but she would not seek to end it. She was as a soldier waiting for the order to quit his post.
There came a slight movement at last. Someone touched her, whispered to her. She looked up blankly, and saw the nurse. But understanding seemed to have gone from her during those long hours. She could not take in a word. There arose a great surging in her brain, and the woman's face faded into an indistinct blur. She sat rigid, afraid to move lest she should fall.
She heard vague whisperings over her head, and an arm that was like a steel spring encircled her. Someone lifted her burden gently from her, and a faint murmur reached her, such as a child makes in its sleep.
Then the arm that supported her gradually raised her up till she was on her feet. Mechanically she tried to walk, but was instantly overcome by a sick sense of powerlessness.
"I can't!" she gasped. "I can't!"
Nick's voice answered her in a quick, confident whisper. "Yes, you can, dear. It's all right. Hang on to me. I won't let you go."
She obeyed him blindly. There was nothing else to do. And so, half-led, half-carried, she tottered from the room.
A glare of sunlight smote upon her from a passage-window with a brilliance that almost hurt her. She stood still, clinging to Nick's shoulder.
"Oh, Nick," she faltered weakly, "why don't they--pull down the blinds?"
Nick turned aside, still closely holding her, into the room in which she had rested for the earlier part of the night.
"Because, thank God," he said, "there is no need. Olga is going to live."
He helped her down into an easy-chair, and would have left her; but she clung to him still, weakly but persistently.
"Oh, Nick, don't laugh! Tell me the truth for once! Please, Nick, please!"
He yielded to her so abruptly that she was half-startled, dropping suddenly down upon his knees beside her, the morning light full upon his face.
"I am telling you the truth," he said. "I believe you have saved her life. She has been sleeping ever since sunrise."
Muriel gazed at him speechlessly; but she no longer suspected him of trying to deceive her. If he had never told her the truth before that moment he was telling it to her then.
She gave a little gasping cry of relief unspeakable, and hid her face. The next moment Nick was on his feet. She heard his quick, light step as he crossed the threshold, and realised thankfully that he had left her alone.
A little later, a servant brought her a breakfast-tray with a message from the master of the house to the effect that he hoped she would go to bed and take a long rest.
It was excellent advice, and she acted upon it; for since the worst strain was over, sleep had become an urgent necessity to her. She wondered as she lay down if Nick were following the same course. She hoped he was, for she had a curiously vivid memory of the lines that sleeplessness had drawn about his eyes.
It was late afternoon when she awoke, and sat swiftly up with a confused sense of being watched.
"Don't jump like that!" a gruff voice said. "Lie down again at once. You are not to get up till to-morrow morning."
She turned with a shaky laugh of welcome to find Dr. Jim seated frowning by her side. He laid a compelling hand upon her shoulder.
"Lie down again, do you hear? There's nothing for you to do. Olga is much better, and doesn't want you."
"And Nick?" said Muriel.
They were the first words that occurred to her. She said them hurriedly, with heightened colour.
Jim Ratcliffe frowned more than ever. He was feeling her pulse. "A nice couple of idiots you are!" he grimly remarked. "You needn't worry about Nick. He has gone for a ride. As soon as he comes back, he will dine and go to bed."
"Can't I get up to dinner?" Muriel suggested.
She could scarcely have said why she made the proposal, and she was certainly surprised when Jim Ratcliffe fell in with it. He looked at his watch. "Well, you may if you like. You will probably sleep the better for it. But I'll have no nonsense, mind, Muriel. You're to do as you're told."
Muriel smiled acquiescence. She felt that everything was right now that Dr. Jim had returned to take the direction of affairs into his own hands. He had come back alone, and he intended to finish his holiday under Nick's roof. So much he told her before, with an abrupt smile, he thanked her for her care of his little girl and took himself off.
She almost regretted her decision when she came to get up, for the strain was telling upon her more than she had realised. Not since Simla days had she felt so utterly worn out. She was glad of the cup of tea which Dr. Jim sent in to her before she left her room.
Sitting on the cushioned window-seat to drink it, she heard the tread of a horse's feet along the drive, and with a start she saw Nick come into view round a bend.
Her first impulse was to draw back out of sight, but the next moment she changed her mind and remained motionless. Her heart was suddenly beating very fast.
He was riding very carelessly, the bridle lying on the horse's neck. The evening sun was shining full in his face, but he did not seem to mind. His head was thrown back. He rode like a returning conqueror, wearied it might be, but triumphant.
Passing into the shadow of the house, he saw her instantly, and the smile that flashed into his face was one of sheer exultation. He dropped the bridle altogether to wave to her.
"Up already? Have you seen old Jim?"
She nodded. It was impossible at the moment not to reflect his smile. "I am coming down soon," she told him.
"Come now," said Nick persuasively.
She hesitated. He was slipping from his horse. A groom came up and took the animal from him.
Nick paused below her window, and once more lifted his grinning, confident face.
"I say, Muriel!"
She leaned down a little. "Well?"
"Don't come if you don't want to, you know."
She laughed half-reluctantly, conscious of a queer desire to please him. Olga's words were running in her brain. He had fed on dust and ashes.
Yet still she hesitated. "Will you wait for me?"
"Till doomsday," said Nick obligingly.
And drawn by a power that would not be withstood, she went down, still smiling, and joined him in the garden. _