CHAPTER XVII
ENTER--NURSE ROSEMARY
Nurse Rosemary Gray had arrived at Gleneesh.
When she and her "box" were deposited on the platform of the little
wayside railway station, she felt she had indeed dropped from the
clouds; leaving her own world, and her own identity, on some far-
distant planet.
A motor waited outside the station, and she had a momentary fear
lest she should receive deferential recognition from the chauffeur.
But he was as solid and stolid as any other portion of the car, and
paid no more attention to her than he did to her baggage. The one
was a nurse; the other, a box, both common nouns, and merely
articles to be conveyed to Gleneesh according to orders. So he
looked straight before him, presenting a sphinx-like profile beneath
the peak of his leather cap, while a slow and solemn porter helped
Jane and her luggage into the motor. When she had rewarded the
porter with threepence, conscientiously endeavouring to live down to
her box, the chauffeur moved foot and hand with the silent precision
of a machine, they swung round into the open, and took the road for
the hills.
Up into the fragrant heather and grey rocks; miles of moor and sky
and solitude. More than ever Jane felt as if she had dropped into
another world, and so small an incident as the omission of the usual
respectful salute of a servant, gave her a delightful sense of
success and security in her new role.
She had often heard of Garth's old castle up in the North, an
inheritance from his mother's family, but was hardly prepared for so
much picturesque beauty or such stateliness of archway and entrance.
As they wound up the hillside and the grey turrets came into view,
with pine woods behind and above, she seemed to hear Garth's boyish
voice under the cedar at Overdene, with its ring of buoyant
enjoyment, saying: "I should like you to see Castle Gleneesh. You
would enjoy the view from the terrace; and the pine woods, and the
moor." And then he had laughingly declared his intention of getting
up a "best party" of his own, with the duchess as chaperon; and she
had promised to make one of it. And now he, the owner of all this
loveliness, was blind and helpless; and she was entering the fair
portals of Gleneesh, unknown to him, unrecognised by any, as a
nurse-secretary sort of person. Jane had said at Overdene: "Yes, ask
us, and see what happens." And now this was happening. What would
happen next?
Garth's man, Simpson, received her at the door, and again a possible
danger was safely passed. He had entered Garth's service within the
last three years and evidently did not know her by sight.
Jane stood looking round the old hall, in the leisurely way of one
accustomed to arrive for the first time as guest at the country
homes of her friends; noting the quaint, large fireplace, and the
shadowy antlers high up on the walls. Then she became aware that
Simpson, already half-way up the wide oak staircase, was expecting
the nurse to hurry after him. This she did, and was received at the
top of the staircase by old Margery. It did not require the lawn
kerchief, the black satin apron, and the lavender ribbons, for Jane
to recognise Garth's old Scotch nurse, housekeeper, and friend. One
glance at the grave, kindly face, wrinkled and rosy,--a beautiful
combination of perfect health and advancing years,--was enough. The
shrewd, keen eyes, seeing quickly beneath the surface, were
unmistakable. She conducted Jane to her room, talking all the time
in a kindly effort to set her at her ease, and to express a warm
welcome with gentle dignity, not forgetting the cloud of sadness
which hung over the house and rendered her presence necessary. She
called her "Nurse Gray" at the conclusion of every sentence, with an
upward inflection and pretty rolling of the r's, which charmed Jane.
She longed to say: "You old dear! How I shall enjoy being in the
house with you!" but remembered in time that a remark which would
have been gratifying condescension on the part of the Honourable
Jane Champion, would be little short of impertinent familiarity from
Nurse Rosemary Gray. So she followed meekly into the pretty room
prepared for her; admired the chintz; answered questions about her
night journey; admitted that she would be very glad of breakfast,
but still more of a bath if convenient.
And now bath and breakfast were both over, and Jane was standing
beside the window in her room, looking down at the wonderful view,
and waiting until the local doctor should arrive and summon her to
Garth's room.
She had put on the freshest-looking and most business-like of her
uniforms, a blue print gown, linen collar and cuffs, and a white
apron with shoulder straps and large pockets. She also wore the
becoming cap belonging to one of the institutions to which she had
once been for training. She did not intend wearing this later on,
but just this morning she omitted no detail which could impress Dr.
Mackenzie with her extremely professional appearance. She was
painfully conscious that the severe simplicity of her dress tended
rather to add to her height, notwithstanding her low-heeled ward
shoes with their noiseless rubber soles. She could but hope Deryck
would prove right as to the view Dr. Mackenzie would take.
And then far away in the distance, along the white ribbon of road,
winding up from the valley, she saw a high gig, trotting swiftly;
one man in it, and a small groom seated behind. Her hour had come.
Jane fell upon her knees, at the window, and prayed for strength,
wisdom, and courage. She could realise absolutely nothing. She had
thought so much and so continuously, that all mental vision was out
of focus and had become a blur. Even his dear face had faded and was
hidden from her when she frantically strove to recall it to her
mental view. Only the actual fact remained clear, that in a few
short minutes she would be taken to the room where he lay. She would
see the face she had not seen since they stood together at the
chancel step--the face from which the glad confidence slowly faded,
a horror of chill disillusion taking its place.
"Anoint and cheer our soiled face
With the abundance of Thy grace."
She would see that dear face, and he, sightless, would not see hers,
but would be easily deluded into believing her to be some one else.
The gig had turned the last bend of the road, and passed out of
sight on its way to the front of the house.
Jane rose and stood waiting. Suddenly she remembered two sentences
of her conversation with Deryck. She had said: "Shall I ever have
the courage to carry it through?" And Deryck had answered,
earnestly: "If you value your own eventual happiness and his, you
will."
A tap came at her door. Jane walked across the room, and opened it.
Simpson stood on the threshold.
"Dr. Mackenzie is in the library, nurse," he said, "and wishes to
see you there."
"Then, will you kindly take me to the library, Mr. Simpson," said
Nurse Rosemary Gray.
